Smolder (Georgia Smoke #6)

• Thirty-Six •

“You aren’t the first girl to reject him. But you’re the first one to wreck him.”

Royal

Picking up the last of the dishes, I headed back to the kitchen at the all-night diner I was now working at. I couldn’t trust Dad to stay home with Grams, so I waited until she went to bed at night before coming in to work until thirty minutes before she woke up. There weren’t as many customers as there were during the day, but we did get truckers, and they were normally good about tipping. Tonight, I’d had three, and I there was almost a hundred dollars tucked away in my pocket.

I missed going to classes. I even missed writing all those papers. But seeing as the police had escorted me off the campus the day I returned, that was no longer an option. They’d been tipped off about me. I didn’t have to ask by who. I just couldn’t understand why Sebastian would still want to hurt me. He’d done a fantastic job of it already. The embarrassment and humiliation—not to mention the trauma of being handcuffed and escorted off the Howison campus—were things he could have skipped.

Rodney had said he couldn’t have me coming in and playing pool anymore. He’d been questioned by the cops about it. Seemed Sebastian had made sure to slice me every way he could. Rodney’s dad owned the All-Right All-Night Diner Dive just off the interstate, and he’d gotten me a job here.

“Been a good night so far,” Linda, the night cook and extra server when needed, said to me with a smile as I entered the kitchen with the dirty dishes.

There were no busboys on the night shifts, so it was a my job to clean the booths and tables when the customers left.

“Yep. Power-bill paying day for me,” I said, thankful I’d made enough tonight that I could finally get it paid.

The bell chimed, and Linda’s eyebrows shot up. “Another one, and it’s almost three. We are popular tonight.”

Yeah. Lucky us.

I headed back out to the dining area, but the dark hair and even darker eyes stopped me. A chill ran over my body, and while my mind was screaming, RUN , I was glued to the floor.

The only reason Thatcher Shephard would walk into a place like this was because he was looking for someone. That someone being me.

He surveyed the place. “Swanky,” he said sarcastically before turning his eyes back to me.

“What do you want?” I asked, trying to sound like I wasn’t terrified, but the fact that my voice was just above a whisper didn’t really sell that for me.

My reaction amused him, although he never really smiled. It was in his eyes.

“You’re gonna need to be nicer if you want good tips. I know making money on the right side of the law is new to you. But I hear there are more rules and etiquette involved.”

Was he making jokes? My hands clenched into fists, and I reminded myself this man wasn’t sane. Telling him to go to hell was a bad idea. I was pretty sure that was where he’d already escaped from. Satan needed to come retrieve his wayward son.

He held up both hands. “Too soon,” he said. “I get it.”

When he took a step toward me, I was finally able to move. I almost fell on my butt though, trying to get away from him.

“Easy there … what was it my brother called you? Oh, yes. Ace.”

I glared at him. I hated that name. I hated that memory. I hated that my heart felt like it was being ripped apart all over again at the reminder of what I’d never had.

“Please leave. I’ve not done anything to you. Or him. Neither has my dad. Just go away.”

Thatcher pulled out a stool and sat down on it. “We need to have a chat first,” he said.

I glanced back at the kitchen to see if Linda was heading this way. I didn’t want to be alone with him, but Linda had three grandkids and a bad hip she needed replaced. She didn’t need Thatcher doing anything to her.

“What is it?” I snapped.

There was almost a smirk on his lips, but it faded before it formed. He pulled out a cigarette from his pocket and stuck it between his lips.

“You can’t smoke in here,” I told him pointing at the sign on the door.

He quirked one eyebrow as he lit the cigarette. “What? Are they afraid it will sully their greasy plastic coated establishment?”

I glared at him saying nothing as he took a long pull. There was no reason to argue with him. He was going to smoke it no matter what the sign or I said.

“I have two questions,” he told me. “Answer them truthfully, and I’ll walk away. Lie to me and well, it’s often a poor choice. I don’t like liars.”

“I don’t like them either,” I agreed biting back what I wanted to shout at him. That it was his brother who was the liar. They all were. The whole entire mafia.

Thatcher studied me. His eyes were as frightening as I remembered. That cold, demented glint seemed to always be there.

He stood back up, and I immediately wondered if I could outrun him.

“Interesting,” he said.

I began to plan my escape route mentally while he stood there smoking.

“I just need one question answered now,” he told me. “What did Merce Dancastle say to you to get you into his car?”

He knew I had gotten in Merce’s car. How? Maeme and Capri had been asleep for hours when I snuck out.

“He told me that my Grams was in danger. My father had escaped your dungeon and that y’all would get my Grams next as punishment.”

Thatcher inhaled more smoke then replied, “I see.”

No, he didn’t see anything. None of them did, nor did they care.

“I doubt it.” The sarcasm dripping from my tone was a mistake. I hadn’t meant to speak my thoughts. It had just come out.

Thatcher’s glare held me there. Frozen as the evil just beneath his surface swirled with the constant threat that he may snap at any moment.

“Sebastian waited for you,” he said taking the cigarette from his mouth. He looked down at the lit end. “He was fucking convinced you’d call, text, even show up. He swore that you’d explain why you left. He was so damn sure you had a reason for leaving him.” Thatcher’s emotionless gaze hardened. “You aren’t the first girl to reject him. But you’re the first one to wreck him.”

“Don’t!” I warned, no longer caring how dangerous this man was. I would not listen to this. Any of it. “DO not try and make me believe he cared. It wasn’t real for him!” I stopped to swallow and take a deep breath. Pain and rage were now battling for first place inside my chest.

“Whatever this is or whatever game you are now playing, just tell me what it is you want from me. Because I know I was a pawn in your plan. I know I was used. And Sebastian made sure I’d never have the faith to trust anyone ever again.”

Thatcher scowled, and it was effective at shutting me up. I took a step back.

“I’m not here to convince you that you’re wrong. Although you are. I came to find out if you were worthy of Sebastian.” He paused. “And honestly, I think he deserves better. You don’t seem to know him at all.”

Clenching my teeth, I stared back at him. “How could I know him! Everything he said to me was a lie.”

Thatcher tilted his head and narrowed his eyes. “Does that help you sleep at night? Believing he wronged you ?”

I wanted to scream at him to leave but I couldn’t be sure he wouldn’t kill me and Linda before he did.

“He was willing to face the boss of the Southern Mafia, and take whatever punishment he received, knowing death could be a possibility. All because he was afraid you were going to be taken from him. That, little girl, was never part of our plan. He ignored orders for you.” He pointed at his chest. “I was there when he saw the video feed of you getting into Merce’s car. I saw the look in his eyes.”

I sucked in a breath, wanting to close my ears and scream at him to stop. I couldn’t listen to this. I couldn’t survive any hope that the man I’d loved was real. That even a small portion of what we’d had in the cabin meant something to him.

“He broke my dad’s arms!” I shouted.

Thatcher gave me a disgusted look, as if my words made him ill. “Did you ever think to ask why? Or was the fact that he did it enough for you?” He shook his head. “You’re not worthy of him.”

I stood there, watching as Thatcher headed for the door. He was leaving.

“Why?” I called out. “Why did he do it?”

Thatcher stopped, not turning around to look at me, and for a moment, I thought he was going to leave without replying.

“When your dad called you a slut, Sebastian broke his nose. When your dad called you a liar about his handprints on your arms, Sebastian broke his arms. When your dad said you knew about the drugs and were involved because you were fucking Merce”—Thatcher looked back at me—“Sebastian wrapped his hands around his throat to shut him up. He could have killed him. But he didn’t.”

I sucked in a breath. “My dad gets drunk. He calls me names. He doesn’t mean it.”

“So, you’ll defend the man who was meant to protect and take care of you, but has never done that once in your life, but not the man who loved you so goddamn much that he was willing to do anything to keep you safe regardless of his own life.”

He shook his head, then walked out the door.

What Sebastian had done wasn’t right. I stood there, telling myself that his actions weren’t sane or normal.

But …

Thatcher had said Sebastian loved me.

I pressed a hand to my chest at the sharp pang, and my eyes swung back to the door before I broke out into a run. I heard Linda call my name, but I didn’t top to answer her. I sprinted outside into the almost-empty parking lot.

A black truck was backing up, but it stopped. I didn’t know if he saw me or not—the windows were tinted. I ran toward it. I needed to know.

The window rolled down, and the orange glow from the cigarette in his mouth was the only light.

There were so many questions racing through my head, but only one mattered.

“Does he really love me?” I blurted out.

“He did,” Thatcher said with his cigarette clenched in his teeth. “Reckon only you can find out if he still does.”

“How?”

He shrugged. “Go see him. Look him in the eyes. Tell him your side of the story and listen to his, like you should have done three weeks ago.”

“How do I know he will see me?” I threw up my arms in frustration. “He has gone out of his way to make sure that I’m barely scraping by to pay the bills.”

Thatcher took his cigarette out of his mouth. “There you go, assuming shit again. Blaming him for something when you have no goddamn proof. Was he the only one who could have rated your ass out? If you think Sebastian would have done that to you, then I’m right and you don’t fucking deserve him.”

He started to roll up the window.

“WAIT! Please. I need to see him to know. Where can I do that?”

Thatcher reached for something, then bent his head slightly before looking back at me and tossing a wadded-up piece of paper out the window. I missed it and turned to run go get it. Once I picked it up, I looked back to see the black truck pulling out and driving away.

Opening up the paper, I smoothed it out. An address, this Saturday’s date, and a time were scribbled on the page. Nothing more.