Page 35 of True North

“Jesus Christ,” Archer dragged out, “You fucked that redhead, didn’t you?”

I was a second away from plowing my fist into his face for talking about her like that when the sound of a throat clearing had us both whipping around. Behind us stood a woman in a flowy skirt with a bright scarf wrapped around her head. Even if I hadn’t witnessed her being wheeled out on a stretcher, I would have recognized her. She and her daughter shared the same warm cinnamon-colored eyes.

Bewitching eyes. That was the best way to describe them.

Though, I was too busy trying to will the ground to swallow me whole to really appreciate how beautiful they were. My mouth opened, but no words would come.

“Hi,” she said cheerfully, her gaze bouncing between Archer and me. “We haven’t met formally.” She extended her hand my way. “I’m Cheryl Maxwell, but you already knew that, didn’t you?”

“Uh . . .” Archer, the clueless fuckwit, spoke then, making everything worse. “Am I missing something?”

Cheryl turned to look at my friend, and from her bright, open expression, I started to think she hadn’t overheard the fucker. “I’m sorry. I’m that redhead’s mom.” At least Archer had the good grace to blush at that. “Her name is Iris, by the way. And yes. The two of them did . . . well, to phrase it differently, sleep together.”

The son of a bitch beside me let out a choking sound as he struggled to keep from bursting into laughter. His eyes were bright as he turned to me with a shit-eating grin. “Is that right?”

“It is. Though, it didn’t quite work out the way either of them expected. You see, my Iris didn’t realize North here (she patted my chest affectionately) was three sheets to the wind when it happened, so it stung my girl’s pride a little when he didn’t remember any of it the next morning.”

Archer didn’t bother holding back at that. His head fell back on a loud burst of laughter that drew the attention of the people around us. “Really?” he managed to get out once the hilarity died down. He folded his arms over his chest and widened his stance, making himself comfortable as he said, “Please, lovely Cheryl, tell me more.”

I was going to fucking kill him. I was confident I could do it in a way I would never get caught. I tried my best to tune them out as Cheryl regaled Archer with details of my misery. It was easier than I expected, because the moment I looked away, I caught sight of Iris, and I couldn’t have pulled my gaze away if I tried.

Which I absolutely didn’t.

SEVENTEEN

NORTH

I gave up trying not to stalk the woman of my every fantasy (awake and asleep) with my eyes. Where she went, my gaze followed, unabashedly. Thanks to the memories coming back in Technicolor, she had a chokehold on me completely. I could smell her, feel her silky skin and soft hair. I could hear all her little noises that never failed to make me hard as a goddamn rock.

“Hmm. Interesting.”

I ripped my focus from Iris to look back at Cheryl. The good-natured expression on her face was still there, but I could feel her studying me beneath that. “What’s interesting?”

She wasn’t looking at me so much as around me. At what, I had no idea. “Ruby red,” she said quietly, almost like she was talking to herself.

“What?”

She blinked like she was coming out of some sort of trance, then shook her head. “Oh, nothing at all, dear. I just wanted to come talk to you, thank you for being there for Iris when I couldn’t be.”

“I wish I could have done more,” I replied honestly. I still remembered with perfect clarity how it felt to sit in that goddamn room, completely helpless.

The thought of her one door away, suffering while I couldn’t help her, fucking gutted me. I knew helplessness, probably better than most people, but what I felt during those six hours was different. So when the opportunity to hold her, to offer comfort in some way, arose, I had no choice but to take it.

“She’ll protect her heart,” Cheryl said, sadness weaving into her expression until it blended everything else out. “She has good reason for it, but sometimes she shields it so strongly she keeps everything out. Good and bad.”

“Mrs. Maxwell—” I started, but she held her hand up to stop me.

“Cheryl, please.” She reached up, patting my chest in that motherly way my own mom used to do. “You do what you will with that information. I just wanted to make you aware that, if you do manage to get behind that shield, the gifts my baby girl gives simply by existing will make any trial worth it.” With that, she gave me a smile, shot Archer a wink, and blended into the crowd.

And without a moment’s hesitation, I was back searching for Iris in the crowds. Unfortunately, what I saw when I finally found her set my teeth on edge.

Her head was thrown back, her entire face lit up with laughter as she held onto that biker’s arm with one hand, cracking up at whatever he said. It wasn’t bad enough she was touching him, or that he made her laugh, but the smile on his face as he watched her do it pissed me off to the point it was a wonder I didn’t crack a molar, I was grinding my teeth so hard.

“Jesus. You don’t only want to nail her do you, man?” Archer was watching me, his expression perplexed. “You’re gone for her.”

“I’m not gone for her,” I muttered. The lie tasted bitter on my tongue. Fuck me, I thought as I realized the truth of my friend’s words. I really was gone for Iris Maxwell. And that had the potential to fuck with everything I’d put into motion.

“Don’t do this, North.” Out of the two of us, Archer was the more laid back, always willing to go with the flow. There had only been one other time in the span of our friendship I’d ever seen him look so earnest. It was the night I told him about Cora. “This fucking suicide mission you’ve got planned. Just call it off now. Get your girl and live happily ever after, or whatever shit those fairytales spew.”