Page 23 of Chef
“Yeah, I got you.” His fingers fly over the screen and I’m so invested in what he’s typing that I ignore the group at the counter until someone clears their throat.
And there, right in front of me, is Nathaniel Mercy, the man I’m meant to marry.
Chapter Eight
Chef
Istare at the pasty fucker in front of me and all I see is pure evil. His blue eyes are cold, his fake smile empty as he stares down at Sage.
“Hello,Sage,” he doesn't so much say her name; he spits it like it's venomous.
I glance at Sage, ready to step in when she needs me. It’s fucking hard to stay stood where I am, when every instinct in me is screaming to protect her, to stand in front of her, blocking this fucker’s view of her beautiful face. Unfortunately, Sage wants to do this shit herself, so I plant my feet, lock my knees and clench my fists.
“Hello, what can I get for you today?” She smiles up at him politely as if he’s any other customer.
“I think you know what I want.” When she gives him a docile, puzzled look, he sneers down at her. “I want what was promised to me. Your hand.”
“My hand?” she asks, innocently.
“Aw now, that’s weird as shit. You one of those fetish types?” Damian drawls, leaning on the counter, eyeing Nathaniel.
Nathaniel leans on the counter, his knuckles white as he grips the edge. “Stop playing dumb, you little bitch.” His spittle flies on Sage’s face and my hands fists even tighter as I side eye her, waiting for a sign that I can step up and take this fucker out. “Iownyou. Have done since you were fucking born.”
“Well, that’s interesting right there. Because I don’t belong to anyone. Not even my fiancé,” she says, tipping her head toward me.
The fucker on the otherside of the counter leans further into Sage’s space, ignoring her words. “You’re mine and Iwillhave you. Do yourself a favour, cunt, make it easy on me. Otherwise you can say goodbye to all your little biker friends. I willannihilatethem. One,” he raises his fingers in a gun motion, cocking his wrist back after pointing them at Damian,” by one,” the same motion aimed at Sniper who has quietly taken Sage’s back, “by one.” He points his fingers at the center of my head, pulling his wrist back before flinching and making an inhuman noise.
“Threaten my people again and I will skin you alive,” Sage says through clenched teeth as she twists her knife. The knife that has pinned Nathaniel’s pasty hand to the top of the counter. “I don’t owe you a goddamn thing.”
She yanks her knife out of the countertop, freeing Nathaniel’s hand. She stares at him, dead in the eye as she wipes the blade of her knife on her jeans.
“We should leave, Nathaniel.” Some bland man who looks like the rest of them says, pulling the douche bag away.
“I’ll be back for you, Sage Landry. It’s God’s will.”
Sage doesn't say a thing, just stands there, shoulders back, looking like a motherfucking boss. She eyeballs them until they get into their fancypants SUVs and peel out of the parking lot.
“You OK babe?” I ask, hand at her lower back.
“I need to talk to my brother,” she murmurs, pulling her phone from her back pocket.
Her hand, as steady as it was wrapped around her knife, is now shaking badly as she tries to scroll through her phone.
“Here, let me,” I whisper, covering her hand with mine, holding it steady as I scroll, looking for Niko’s contact.
“No,” Sage says quietly. “I need Elio.”
Finding Elio’s contact I press the call button, then hand Sage her phone, watching her back as she walks away, speaking in a low voice. I’m certain I hear her asking about degloving something, but I push that from my mind.
“You good, cher?” Damian asks, looking at me like I’m a bug under a microscope.
“No, Damian. No, I’m not. I have the biggest urge to chase that fucker down and cut him from throat to asshole.”
“But, that’s not what Sage wants.”
“No, no it’s not.”
“It’s OK, brother,” Sniper growls. “We’ve got her back. And yours.”
