C11, PT. 2

“Sounds interesting. I may need to read the book,” Johan said as she dove into the back seat.

“What book?” Mo asked.

“The best book I’ve ever read,” she gushed as she leaned between the fronts seats to pat him on the shoulder. “Long time no see. What have you two been up to?”

He jerked his thumb over his shoulder as Johan slid into the seat beside him. “Training your second team.”

She turned to look through the back window as they pulled away from the curb. A black SUV pulled into traffic behind them. “Training them to do what? Twiddle their thumbs?”

“To enjoy the quiet while it lasts.”

She faced forward, buckled her seatbelt, and was grateful for the heated seats. “I’m not that bad.”

“No. You’re a dream client. Not demanding, compliant.” Dark eyes flicked up to the rearview mirror and crinkled in amusement when he spotted her offended look. “You would rather read than party at nightclubs until dawn, shop, or have affairs that could get us both killed.”

“You had a client like that?”

“Too many. Shadowing the spoiled wives or daughter’s of the rich and powerful is an exhausting, thankless, monotonous job.”

“I don’t know whether to be flattered or offended.”

“Be flattered,” Johan suggested.

“I’ll have you know I did manage to slip past my other security team,” she said with her nose in the air.

“Yes, we were briefed on that and told it can’t happen in the future.”

Slightly mollified, she asked, “Don’t you think the second team is overkill?”

Again, Mo’s gaze flicked up to her in the rearview mirror before he shook his head.

“Why?” she prompted when she realized he wasn’t going to elaborate.

Johan turned his head toward his partner. She wished she could see his expression, but the headrest was in the way. Mo was silent for a minute before he came to a stop at a traffic light. He seemed to be weighing his words before he spoke.

“Your husband’s a wealthy man,” he said.

“Yes,” she acknowledged.

“You’re a wealthy woman.”

Her eyes narrowed.

He gave a one shoulder shrug. “With wealth comes power, and with power comes enemies.”

“I don’t have any enemies.”

“The fact that you believe that is why you need security.”

She jerked forward so abruptly, her seatbelt locked. “What the hell are you talking about?”

He glanced to the right. “We’re here.”

“This talk isn’t over,” she said to Mo as Johan opened her door.

When she stepped onto the sidewalk, Johan tapped her arm to signal her to wait. She glanced back as two men slipped out of the black SUV and ambled toward a neighboring store. They didn’t look in their direction and weren’t dressed like Mo and Johan, who favored suits. Instead, these men were dressed in casual streetwear. She blew out a gust of white air and stomped her feet before she looked up at the sky. She hadn’t checked the forecast, but it looked like they may get their first snow of the season.

When Johan gestured to the café, she didn’t dally. She thanked the man who held the door open for her and stepped into Life & Coffee. The first thing she noticed was the suspended greenery over the coffee bar and the exposed brick walls. There was a worn leather couch in the corner and as many little tables as the space would allow. Sarai waved from a spot she managed to snag against the wall. She waved back and went up to the counter with Johan at her back.

“See anything you want?” she asked.

“Don’t worry about me.”

She glanced back and saw her extra bodyguards hadn’t entered the café and were hanging out on the sidewalk. “Should we get them coffee?”

“I’ll take care of them.”

She nodded and stepped up to the counter and ordered a maple latte and a pistachio croissant. It was an odd combination, but she had a strong craving for sweets she needed to assuage. She realized she wasn’t alone in her quest when she saw that Sarai had a plate of large, gooey cookies in front of her and a pumpkin chai latte.

“You made good time,” Sarai said and didn’t acknowledge Johan as he passed their table to check out the back half of the room, which was divided by a massive bookshelf.

“I’ve never seen anyone navigate traffic better than they do,” she said and closed her eyes to savor her first sip of her piping hot drink.

“That’s their expertise.”

Her eyes opened to find Sarai daintily nibbling on a gingerbread cookie. “It’s their expertise to navigate traffic?”

Sarai’s large brown eyes followed Johan as he backtracked, apparently satisfied that none of the hipsters or men in suits were assassins. “They’re tactical experts, proficient behind the wheel, and with a wide array of weapons. They’re skilled marksmen, have medical training, and highly decorated military careers…” Sarai waved her hand. “You know, the usual.”

She set down her cup. “No, I don’t know.”

“Don’t worry about the details. That’s their job. So.” Sarai propped her chin on her hands. “Tell me what you think about Ballad of Deception.”

If the book wasn’t so fresh in her mind, she wouldn’t have let Sarai get away with changing the subject. But her need to discuss the story trumped her curiosity about the range of talents that made Mo and Johan qualified to be her personal security. Instead, she launched into a spirited analysis of her latest obsession that kept her riveted for two days and left her with internal injuries.

“And now there’s a sequel!” She cringed when Sarai gave her a pointed look. “I know, I’m a hypocrite, but this isn’t about me, it’s about Johanna Ledger and her twisted mind keeping me up at night.” When Sarai continued to stare, she let out a disgusted sound and slouched in her seat with her arms crossed. “Leave me alone.”

“Speaking of, how’s your writing going?”

“I haven’t been writing, just reading,” she said testily as her boot bounced.

“That’s good. Books like Ballad of Deception will inspire your own work, right?”

She took refuge in a long sip of coffee and finished off her croissant. Sarai looked especially chic today in a black sweater vest belted at the waist with a white long sleeve and fitted black pants that fit snugly into ankle boots. She wasn’t one to confide in others, especially about her work, but if anyone could understand, it would be Roth’s personal assistant who was in the unique position of knowing the professional and personal sides of her life.

“I don’t think I can write Rex and Juliet,” she blurted.

Sarai’s eyes flared. “Why not?”

“This thing with Roth and I…” she began and stopped when she remembered she was talking to his employee, not her girlfriend.

“What about it? Everything seems perfect.” Sarai gestured to Jasmine’s original wedding ring on her right hand that she had yet to take off. “He leaves the office by seven most days and yesterday, six o’clock! No one can believe it. I assumed all was well.”

“It is.” Her cheeks felt a little hot. What the hell was she blushing like a teenager for? “We’re good.” She considered and relented, “Great.”

She couldn’t fucking believe how good they were. Roth said he would try to make it home for dinner, and kept that promise for a week. After dinner, he usually retired to his home office while she cozied up with a book. They spent more time together this week than they had in their first month of marriage.

**This is a raw draft of Bitter Confessions. Please do not share or distribute.

Copyright © 2024 Mia Knight. All Rights Reserved.