We walked up to the portly guard in blue. Lucas exchanged a few words with him and handed him a wad of cash to buy our way inside with a pistol. Lucas had refused to go out in public without it, and I didn’t blame him. We had no way of knowing when or how they would strike. Going out without protection would be foolish.
The man nodded, stepping back to let us inside without using the wand on Lucas. The security guard and I locked gazes for a split second, and what I saw there left a sour taste in my mouth. He looked . . . ashamed of himself and his association with the Sons of Steel Row. Much like Lucas had accused me of, earlier.
Is that what he thought he saw in my eyes when I looked at him? After I kissed him, or admitted I wanted him, like I had the other night? Of course not. He couldn’t see it if it didn’t exist . . .
Could he?
CHAPTER 11
LUCAS
Heidi leaned back in her chair and adjusted her knit cap, her face impassively placid, but her eyes . . . ah, her eyes told another story. In all the moments leading up to this, Heidi had whined, pouted, and even threatened to castrate me over this date. She’d told me she hated baseball and wouldn’t last ten minutes in the “stupid, idiot-packed stadium.”
Well, the game was almost over, and she was still alive.
Imagine that.
It was the bottom of the ninth, with a tied game, bases loaded, and Ortiz had stepped up to the plate, stretching and swinging his bat in circles. The Phillies’ Ken Giles lined himself up, eyeing Ortiz across the expanse of the field. Even from here, I could feel the tension between the two men. “Damn.”
Heidi bit down on her lip and leaned forward. “He’s good, right?”
“Giles or Ortiz?”
“Ortiz.” She waved a hand. “I can see Giles is good. I’ve been watching him off and on all night.”
I forced back a grin at her attitude. “Some say so, yeah.”
“And you?” She darted a quick glance at me before turning back to the game. “Do you say so?”
“Yeah.”
Ortiz swung and missed, making Heidi let out a string of curses. As they lined up for the second pitch, she pressed her lips against the rim of her beer, murmuring something under her breath. I thought I heard the words please and hit it, but I couldn’t be sure.
I chugged back the rest of my draft beer. “You know, for someone who doesn’t like baseball, you sure are—”
Ortiz made contact with the ball, and it flew out past the third baseman. The crowd went wild, and Heidi leapt to her feet, completely ignoring me to whoop loudly. It was a double, so two men made it home, putting the Red Sox officially in the lead.
She turned to me, a bright smile on her face. “That means we won, right?”
“Yep.” I pointed at her beer. “Finish that, and we can head out if you want. I’ll put you out of your misery.”
She glanced at the pitcher on the field. “But it’s not over yet. He’s still out there.”
“Yeah, but I know you don’t like baseball, and I wouldn’t want to torture you needlessly,” I teased, smirking. “Unless you want to stay.”
“You know I do,” she said, her voice curt. She chugged back the last of her beer and tossed her empty cup at me. “And I’d like a refill, please.”
I cocked a brow at her and raised my hand. A guy nodded and turned to get us another beer. “Damn, darlin’. You’re gonna drink me under the table tonight.”
“That’s because you’re drinking to blend in but still staying sober, so you can keep me safe.” She tossed a grin at me. “I’m drinking to get light-headed and a little bit stupid, because I’ve got you to keep me safe. I’m not used to having someone at my back. It’s a treat to let loose and forget for a little while.”
I gripped the arms of the chair. “Forget what?”
She stilled, then turned to me slowly. She shook her head, and her blond hair blew a little in the breeze. The sunset framed her face, shadowing it slightly, but not so much that I couldn’t see the raw honesty in her expression. Or miss out on how pretty the dim lighting of the dusk make her eyes look. “Being alone all the time.”
My chest tightened. I knew that feeling all too well. I didn’t have many people I trusted to have my back, either. I had Scotty and Chris—but now it looked like I only had Chris. And my childhood had been nothing like Heidi’s.
While she’d grown up and made something of herself, from having nothing, I’d wasted away all the love and care my mother had raised me with. I’d thrown it in her face and taken what she’d worked so hard to give us—a stable, safe environment—and turned it into something tarnished and ugly.
But that’s what I did.
I ruined things.
“You’re not alone anymore,” I said, locking gazes with her. “You have me.”
Her cheeks flushed. “For now.”
“Yeah.” I shifted in my seat and pulled out some cash and handed it off to the guy who brought her beer without bothering to glance at him. Then I gave her the beer, and she held on to it tightly with both hands. “For now.”
She stared out at the field, not glancing my way, and took a big swallow of beer. I couldn’t take my eyes off her. She’d been homeless—actually lived on the fucking streets—and had come out squeaky and clean in the end. She owned a bar and was seemingly happy.