Red. (Den of Mercenaries #1)(17)

He didn’t have it in him for anything more than a short time in a bed.

He had nothing left to offer.

But as he stepped out into the night, turning his hood up, he could practically feel her eyes on him.

And worse…he was tempted to turn around and look back.





Chapter Ten





“Order up!”

After twenty-two years, Reagan knew what true pain was. She had spent the last sixteen hours on her feet, tirelessly working her tables, alternating between bringing and taking plates, along with cleaning tables as she went, all the while keeping a smile on her face though she thought only of strangling half the guys that had come in.

It hadn’t always been so busy at the diner where she worked, not until a popular food blogger had named it one of the top five dives in Hell’s Kitchen. After that, half the city decided to show up, and most of those were rich hipsters, who might have looked interesting, but mostly had bad attitudes.

She was thankful, despite the tiring work, because it increased her income enough that she was finally able to quit one of the two other jobs she’d had besides the diner, and was even able to start saving a little towards getting an apartment so she could move out of her parents’ place. The hours were more grueling however, leaving her with little time for anything else.

Delivering the order to her last table for the moment, she did a quick scan, making sure no one needed anything before heading back to the counter. It was another uneventful night, but she was glad that it wasn’t so busy. She’d worked a double the last two nights, so she was glad she could take a moment to get off her feet.

Despite how tiring the work could be, she was grateful for the diner and the hours that kept her away from home. It was practically an oasis, the only time where she didn’t feel the constant anxiety of living with a drunk for a father and a mother who was subservient to said drunk. Since she still lived with them, unlike her brother Jimmy who had moved out, and her other brothers who were just…gone, she was privy to many of her father’s drunken tirades. Before, she hadn’t minded living at home despite all of her friends having moved on to college or getting their own places and a jump on life, but that was back when her father still had a job at the gas plant.

When he’d first been laid off, he had been fine, making new plans, wanting to open up the pub that he had always talked about. ‘The family legacy,’ he had once said during one of his bouts of sobriety. There were plenty of places for food in New York City, but not enough people that were willing to hand out a loan for a ‘legacy.’ He had taken that hard, drowning his sorrows in whiskey. Soon, he was drinking through their savings, and because Reagan’s mother had never worked a day in her life, it was up to Reagan to become the new breadwinner for the household.

She loved helping her family, but she hated the sheer amount of responsibility at the same time.

Sometimes she wondered what it would be like to be carefree for a change and not have to worry about whether or not their lights were going to be cut off.

Maybe one day that wouldn’t be a worry anymore.

“And I told him, what kind of girl do you take me for? I mean, I like a good threesome as much as the next girl, but only—and here’s the lesson in this—I get to pick the other girl.”

Reagan smiled as she caught the tail end of what Shan was saying, recounting her weekend with on-again-off-again boyfriend, Joey. They had attended the same Catholic girl’s school and had been best friends for as long as Reagan could remember.

Now, Shan was Irish-American through and through, but a good Catholic girl, she was not. The sexual escapades she and Joey got up to—at least the ones she shared at the diner—were definitely not supposed to be mentioned in polite conversation. But that was Shan, loud and brash, but loyal to a fault.

“I mean, if I had to pick a girl, it would be Reagan, you know what I mean? Just look at her. Her body is ten times better than mine. I’m jealous.”

Shan playfully swatted her butt as she said this, making Reagan laugh along with her, even as Reggie shook his head at the pair of them.

“So what did he say when you told him no?” Reagan asked as she joined in on the conversation, reaching for the salt and pepper shakers to fill since she was sitting there.

Shan shook her head, giving her a droll stare. “I never said I told him no.”

The sound of her laughter nearly drowned out the chiming bell as another customer came in. Reagan shook her head. “Of course you didn’t.”

Reagan couldn’t say she had ever felt someone’s presence before, not like right then. She hadn’t even looked behind her, yet the moment she heard the bell, she definitely knew it was him coming in.

“Oh, looks like your mystery guy is back.”

Reagan didn’t have to look to know who Shan was talking about. For the last few days, there was only one person that made it a point to come into the diner and sit in the same booth, a booth that was in her section. Since that first night, she had grown used to his presence. She was almost used to how good he looked.

Almost.

He was exactly the type of guy she should avoid, and she knew that all without having a conversation with him. It was like the danger bled from him while he breathed.

“Here,” Shan stage-whispered. “Let me fix your boobs before you go over there.”