For the Love of the Law

Chapter Twenty One | When It Comes To Underwear, I'm Ambidextrous

Marley's POV

The minute I walked into the cafe, I knew something was different.

Not off, as such, just...different. Like the room was more energized, excited. I wasn't entirely too sure what to think about it because my stomach was kind of leading my train of thoughts as I walked up to the counter, my eyes scanning the black chalkboard above the counter that had written on it the menu.

When my eyes landed on the word 'BLT', I almost drooled. 

As I waited in line though, I could feel the distinct prickling of hairs on my neck, tell tale signs someone was watching me. A lot of people watched me these days though, so nothing was new. 

Normally, I didn't even notice anymore, but that stare...

I didn't turn when the waiter met my eyes and sent me a half smile. I tried one back, ordering a BLT to go, but the whole time that prickly sensation never left. 

So once my BLT was safe in its plastic bag, I paid, thanked the waiter, then turned to track down the set of eyes that were causing my neck hairs to stand up. 

Green eyes, like the sea, were staring straight back at me.

And I just froze.

Eyes locked, my grey to her green, neither of us moving, and all I could think was 'my BLT was getting cold'. 

Fuck me, she was really attractive. Especially now I could see her in bright light instead of a shady hospital room. 

And then I noticed the fiery blush on her cheeks, and the narrowing of her eyes as she broke eye contact and looked over at the other woman beside her. She had deep red hair and seriously good skin, but the girl from the hospital was the one who had my attention.

It wasn't until someone cleared their throat that I realised I was standing in the way of the line, so I quickly stepped away and turned towards the door, but not before flicking my eyes back to her again.

She was staring at me from beneath her lashes, her coffee cup between her lips, and where her eyes were trained wasn't exactly my face.

And didn't that make a guy feel good. 

I stepped out of the cafe with a smile on my face, and for the first time since forever, I realised it was genuine one.

None of that faking shit. I was smiling. 

But that smile was gone the minute I rounded the streets corner and looked up. 

Samson was standing beside one of the dry cleaning shops, talking in a hushed, agitated voice with a guy I hadn't met before. I could tell he was wound up, Samson always had this constipated look on his face when he wasn't getting his way, and the guy looked like he hadn't had a shit in days.

But then I spotted the leather jacket that the other guy was wearing, and looked upwards to take in his face.

And my blood surged faster. 

Samson was arguing with a gang member. 

And okay, I was being a bit of a hypocrite here. Jag was still involved in that gang, but I knew his back story so I knew he was solid. 

This little picture I was staring at? It seemed dodgier than Harlow's little cars power steering. 

What the hell was he doing, talking to a gang member? I had always known he was a shithead, but getting involved with dangerous guys probably wasn't the best thing to do because of his stellar reputation.