Jess looked around the empty café. It wasn’t busy. Was it ever busy when the Angels weren’t around? She had been so naïve when she was younger, believing that somehow the two or three customers they had all day was enough to keep her mother’s business afloat. Now she knew differently. It wasn’t the burgers that kept the café going.

 

She pushed her hair behind her ear and continued filling the sugar dispensers. She had a bowl of rice beside her that she plucked grains from to place in the shakers as she worked. It was a banal task, but then she was locked in a life of banal tasks, probably indefinitely. And whose fault was that?

 

“Thanks for the coffee.” The one customer she had all morning waved at her as he left, setting the bell ringing as he walked outside. An ancient old man who lived somewhere in the neighborhood had come in and counted his coins out on the counter with his shaking hands. He barely had enough for toast, but Jess had set him up with a full breakfast and coffee. She smiled. He was the only regular, stopping in once or twice a week. It was sad, but kind of sweet, that he actually believed the three dollars he had given her was enough to cover the whole meal. Her mother would never miss it, and the food would spoil if it weren’t cooked, so what was the harm?

 

Now that the old man had left, she abandoned her sugar duties and went to pick up the dirty dishes, happy to have something else to do with her day. It was hard for her to think of anything else but Scott since that night, and spending her days in a dead little café in the middle of nowhere didn’t help much. At the most inopportune moments she would remember the taste of him so clearly that it was as if he was still kissing her. She could feel him grinding against her and see the twist of his mouth. More than once she had to stop herself from racing out into the street to hunt him down, wanting to tell him everything and see if he stayed. Anything to stop the circle of obsession she was caught in. Scott, with the too pretty face and long fingers. Scott, the one she wasn’t allowed to have. Scott, with the history of doing bad things. But how bad? Could it be any worse than hers?

 

She took the egg-smeared plate into the kitchen to wash it. That was at least the next few minutes taken care of. Maybe now, focusing on the plate, she could have a break from rehearsing her speech to him should she ever see him again. Sighing, she started the water and was about to rinse the plate when she heard the jangling bell on the door again. She wiped her wet hands on her apron.

 

“Wow. Two customers in an hour,” she mumbled.

 

Maybe a big rush would hit out of nowhere and really give her some distraction. She swung open the door into the dining room and her heart stopped. Scott stood in the center of the room. Her Scott. More electric than she remembered, he filled up her mother’s café more than a lunch rush ever could. Her first instinct was to rush at him and throw herself at him, straddle him in one of the booths and scream her secrets into his mouth. Her second was to fix her hair. Awkwardly she pulled her hair up and twisted it to form a messy bun, trying to still her shaking hands.

 

“I’ll get you a coffee.” It was all she could think to say. If she kept moving then maybe he wouldn’t notice the effect he had on her. She fumbled with the porcelain cup and saucer, the too loud clink filling the empty restaurant.

 

“You’re Val Ingersson’s niece,” he said.

 

She froze, her hand still reaching for the coffee pot. This was it then. She searched her head for her well planned and rehearsed speech, but came up blank. “I told you I was connected,” she said finally. She poured his coffee as she tried to start breathing again, and brought it to him. It sat on the counter between them, untouched, a black circle in a stained white mug.

 

“What did you do Jessica… Jess? I’m sorry, but you need to tell me. What kind of trouble did you get into?”

 

She was shocked to hear the emotion in his voice as he stood there, his eyes searching hers.

 

“Did that… that Luke, did he hurt you?”

 

Jess took a deep breath. Scott’s question knocked a hole open in her and she was going to fill it. When she spoke, she was strangely calm. In her dreams she had screamed it, howled it into the sky. Actually saying the words, however, saying them so someone else could hear them, was entirely different. How could she explain it? The adrenaline, the pain, the fact that she did it and her only punishment was having to keep it a secret. She snorted. One of the benefits of being a part of the Grim Angels.

 

“I killed him,” she said. He said nothing. What did she expect him to say anyway? Good for you? You horrible bitch? You despicable murderer?

 

Instead, Scott eased himself onto a counter stool and pulled the cup of coffee toward him. Carefully and methodically he poured sugar into it.

 

Jess coughed nervously. She raised her hand to her mouth but put it down again when she saw how badly she shook. “I went to his house and I killed him.”

 

“Got any cream?” he asked.

 

Numbly, Jess passed him a bowl of creamers and watched as he dumped one, then a second, into his coffee, the cream spreading out in the black. He took a spoon and stirred, then sipped. “Why?"

 

“I knew he was cheating on me. Not that I cared. He wasn’t good to me but everyone expected me to… Never mind. It was like dating a celebrity. I tried to tell people about him, but no one believed me. Luke… ” Jess hadn’t said his name in a year and it caught in her throat, making her feel like choking. “I didn’t know about the prostitutes, but I should’ve. All I knew was he was…” She paused, trying to find a word for it. “Seeing other girls. Girls I knew wanted to be a part of the Angels. Girls who would do anything. Things I wouldn’t do.” She saw Scott stiffen.

 

He wouldn’t look at her. “Things like what?”

 

“Things that hurt.” The words fell between them, as real and as solid as that cup of coffee.

 

Scott nodded.

 

She could tell he was working hard to maintain a neutral expression. She could see it in the way his mouth twitched between sips of coffee. “I…” Jess stopped. Suddenly far from calm, she felt as if her stomach were going to crawl its way up into her throat to stop her talking, to strangle her where she stood. “I followed him to one of the girl’s houses. She was younger than me. I didn’t even know her name.” Her voice cracked. “I stood outside, getting madder and madder that he was fucking some other chick. I finally decided to catch them and confront him. The door wasn’t locked. By the time I got there, it was too late. I found her in the bedroom. He’d…torn her apart. Really, torn her apart.”

 

She felt tears start to slip down her cheeks but she didn’t brush them away. She didn’t look at Scott, she didn’t move, she had to finish the story. She had to drag all those gruesome images into the light. She had to remember how good that knife had felt in her hand when she had finally got ahold of it. She laid her hand, the same one she had used to kill him, on the counter to steady herself and was surprised when he reached out and laid his hand on top.

 

“How did you do it?”

 

She looked up and found him staring at her, clear eyed. Obviously he’d had conversations like this before. Why was she shocked? Of course he had. “He came back in the room. He was nude and still covered in her blood. I think he was fucking her as he killed her. He still had the knife with him. I tried to run, but he cut me when I tried to get past him. I didn’t even feel it. I didn’t feel anything. He was going to kill me and I was trying to get away. I managed to push him off me when he slipped on… slipped in her blood. He dropped the knife when he fell. I grabbed it and I killed him. I killed him, Scott! I don’t know how many times I stabbed him, but when I left the house I just ran.” The tears were streaming now, her chest hitching.

 

Scott let go of her hand and pushed the coffee out of the way before he crawled up on her mother’s precious counter and over to where she stood. He wrapped her in his arms, enfolding her in creaking leather and the sweet smell of his skin. Tears streaming down her face, she gripped him like a lifeline, shoulders shaking as she was racked with sobs. She had never told anyone what had happened. Oh, they knew, but they had to piece it together, but getting it out in the open was like a great weight was lifted from her shoulders.

 

He held her, letting her cry as she clung to him. No one should have to witness something like that. He was amazed at the strength in her slender body that she could carry that weight. No wonder she had nearly flipped out when the girl flicked blood onto her, and he suddenly felt more charitable toward Angela. He tipped her head back just enough that he could kiss the top of her head, breathing her in deep, like a tonic, holding her until her sobs began to quiet.

 

“Was it hard?” he asked. “Was it hard to do?”

 

She shook her head against him, sniffling. It hadn’t been hard. In fact, it had been easy. Too easy.

 

“When they deserve it, it never is,” he murmured, resting his cheek on her head. He had been working with the Grim Angels for years. They had become his family, his friends, his entire life. But now, with this woman in his arms, he was suddenly willing to throw it all away. Ten years of loyalty for three days with Jess. Was he insane? He didn’t love her, but she spoke to him in a way no other woman ever had. Possibly like no other ever will.

 

She pulled back, her face puffy with emotion. “They don’t want me to be with you. They don’t want me to have anything to do with the Angels. They know what I did. Uncle Val covered it up for me, but they’ll kill you if they know you were here.”

 

Scott smiled and kissed her, her lips salty from her tears. “People have been trying to do that for years. Hasn’t worked so far.”

 

“You know them, Scott. You know what they can do.”

 

“Yeah, and I’ve done most of it for them. I’m going to be the right hand of the fucking king, Jess. I can make this work.”

 

Every single inch of her wanted to believe it was true, but every inch of her also knew how the world worked. He didn’t know Uncle Val like she did. He had no idea what he was capable of.

 

“Can we get out of here?” he asked, looking around at the empty booths and tables.

 

Kat hadn’t been home in a couple days. She was probably off on a tear, hooked up with some swinging dick that caught her fancy. She had been doing that quite a bit lately, a true sign she had gone on another one of her binges, drinking away the life she had, sort of, created for herself and her daughter after her divorce from Ron.

 

She didn’t care anymore. This ruse of a café could burn to the ground for all she cared. If she shut the place down for a few hours, what difference would that make? She could take him upstairs and they could talk. However, feeling those arms still around her made talking the absolute last thing on her mind.

 

She pulled back with a sniff, wiping at her eyes. “Let me lock up. We live upstairs. We can go there.”