ALEXANDER
The man walked out of the bar, almost quickening his footsteps.
She was behind him. He felt her gaze pinned on his back, those soft brown eyes of hers that reminded him of honey, staring at the back of his head like she wanted to see his skull.
The last hour had been filled with him bobbing his foot in anxiety, repeatedly texting his friend, and trying his darnest best not to look at her.
He didn't know what he would do if he looked at her. Without a bout, he would have done something that would land him in the police station.
Fuck. He needed to get out here quickly before he did something stupid!
His steps hurried to the door.
"Hey! Excuse me!" She called out. "Slow down! I need to talk to you!"
Hell no!
He rushed out of the bar, quickly ducking out of sight. From his position in the corner, he was able to see her.
Eva Wilson.
In the flesh. So close. After all these years. His heart exploded, racing, like it wanted to jump out of his chest.
Alexander exhaled, trying to calm his thoughts to no avail.
The last thing he'd expected was seeing her here, so far from home. Did something happen? She wasn't someone that drank alcohol regularly, and she'd never come to this bar before.
"Where did he go?" He heard her huff, and slowly peaked out to get a look at her. She stood at the front door, her eyes scanning the empty space as if she was searching for him.
Was she? That was impossible.
He couldn't be sure. Sure back inside, she had looked at him. Even waved at him, with that gentle smile that made him feel weird. That smile that made his brain forget how to function.
It had been five years. There's no way she remembered him. She was a nurse, she saw dozens of people everyday. If she was asked to recall everyone she had treated, that would be impossible.
Even now, Alexander couldn't tear his eyes away from her.
"What am I even doing?" She sighed, her voice small and exhausted.
Alexander frowned. Was she okay? He truly wanted to ask her what was wrong. But a stranger springing out on her might raise alarm bells rather than help.
She looked around again, muttered something under her breath, before disappearing inside the bar.
Only then did Alexander exhale.
As much as he wanted to walk back inside and talk to her, he had to hold himself back. Even this encounter was too much. Too soon.
She was off limits.
A direct descendant of Hashimoto. Eva was dangerously off limits.
Not like that stopped him from wanting her. Alexander had always been a man who took what he wanted without care if they broke or not.
But Eva Wilson? He didn't want her to break too soon.
About to step out from hiding, the door to the bar opened and Eva stormed out. He quickly hid again, stepping back before she noticed him.
She spoke on the phone in an agitated tone to someone, the device pinned between her shoulder and ear while her free hand rummaged into her purse. "I said I'm not sleeping in that bed! I'll rather sleep under the bridge than crawl back into that maggot infested bed. Why don't you ask darling Sarah to stay with you?!"
Eva was always sweet and mild tempered, hearing her angry was something he didn't expect. Was it Ethan? Did that bastard do something to hurt her?
She walked briskly to the street, yelling at whoever was on the other end of the phone, while hailing a cab with her free hand.
Alexander almost stepped forward.
His left foot moved before he could stop himself. But he did. His fists clenched at his sides and his teeth ground against each other.
He waited till she got a cab and left, before he came out and headed to his car. Barely two seconds after he settled in, the bartender arrived and knocked on the window.
"Sir, she was very satisfied with the drink. Should we add it to our menu?"
"No." he replied curtly.
That recipe was for her and her alone. No one else would ever taste it.
The bartender looked terrified. He cleared his throat, red color bleeding into his cheeks. "A-alright! Have a good night, sir." Without waiting for a reply from the stoic man, he hurried back to work.
Alexander's phone rang. He didn't need to glance at the screen to know it was Pariston calling. Only one person had his personal phone number.
"So, how did it go? Did you finally talk to her?" Pariston's sunny voice flooded his ear, making him pull the phone back a few inches.
"No."
"What?! Come on, you blew my phone up with so many texts just five minutes ago! 'She's here' and 'she waved at me' and 'do you think I'm overdressed?' And you didn't speak to her even once?"
"It wasn't the right time."
Pariston sighed in exasperation. Alexander could see him, shoulders slumped, his brows slanted like two forward slashes. "It's been five years man. When will it be right? At this point you're like a stalker. Is that what you want to be forever? Eva Wilson's dark stalker?"
He didn't know. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe never.
His hand came up, touching the bandaid strapped on his cheek. He had hoped she'd notice it, maybe it would spark a memory for her.
It didn't. Instead she said "weird"
Weird? She gave it to him. Well not exactly the same one, but he had to hunt down the specific brand and buy a fuck ton of pink sparkly bandaids.
Pariston's sigh pulled him out of memory lane. "Just talk to her, how hard can it be? You handle high stake acquisitions without blinking an eye. Yet you can't even say hi to your crush."
"She's not my crush."
"Yeah, yeah," Pariston chuckled, clearly not impressed. "Anyway, we've had some trouble again. Mercer's raided the new building on Seventh Street, it's total mess. I'm at the site right now, and before you ask, yes I've—"
Alexander didn't wait to here the rest. 'Mercer' and 'raided' were enough words to turn all the endorphins he got from seeing Eva into a blinding rage.
He hung up and tossed his phone to the backseat. Without wasting time, he started the engine and drove out of the parking lot like hell had been let loose on him. His phone rang and rang, but went ignored.
***
"What are you doing here?" Alexander asked coldly as he stepped out of his car and spotted Pariston ahead.
Pariston peeled himself off the wall, his hands shoved into the pockets of his white pants. He was dressed in a casual tee and pants, looking like he just left a fine date.
"I knew you'd be on your way here. Since you know, you blew me off and ignored all my calls?"
"Move."
"You need to calm down. I told you I've handled it. There's no need to go in there with blazing guns."
Alexander pushed past him, making his way into the fancy house.
"You're welcome," Pariston said, walking up to his side, smiling like he'd found oil in his backyard. "I hacked into the security system and disabled all the alarms."
"You want a treat?"
"Fucks sake, you're so cold! The least you could say is thank you, Pariston, you did such a wonderful job!"
"Was anyone hurt?"
Pariston gave up trying to squeeze appreciation out of his friend. "Leo and his men were injured. I patched them up in time before it got worse."
Pariston was once a doctor. Now he was something else. Not someone who saved lives, not someone who took them either. Just someone who was always by Alexander's side
They made their way to the front door of the mansion. All the lights were on, and from the distance, Alexander could hear a man's laughter.
His blood boiled. Mercer that fool. He had the guts breaking into protected property.
It was easy to find him. The old fat fool was in his study, gorging on sweets and downing a bottle of whiskey. The moment he saw the men walk in, he jumped in shock. His slack face turned red and he got to his feet, wobbling as he did.
"The fuck?" He drawled, his eyes unfocused and bloodshot. "Reed?! Get the fuck out of my house!"
Alexander pulled a gun out, aimed it at Mercer's knees and fired. Twice. One for each knee.
Mercer screamed, his body jerking off the seat as he collapsed in a puddle of his blood. Alexander strode over to him and crouched down, ramming the butt of his gun into Mercer's face. The sound of bone crunching filled the air and Mercer howled, clutching his bloody nose.
"Next one goes into your brain. Keep your thugs off my property."
"F-fuck! It wasn't serious! Fucks sake, Reed! You'll kill me over a small squabble? After all we've been through?!"
"Yes." Alexander replied and got to his feet. Without another word, he turned and walked out. Pariston followed ten minutes later, after bandaging Mercer's wounds and calling an ambulance.
Once he was outside, Alexander had a peculiar thought. He wondered if that fool Mercer would be rushed to the hospital, and if the attending nurse would be Eva Wilson.
The mere thought of Mercer anywhere close to Eva was enough to make Alexander combust with anger.
"Pariston? Where can I shoot to deliver a non-fatal wound?"
"You're asking that after you've crippled the man?!" Pariston sighed, shaking blood off his hands. It took two seconds for him to understand what Alexander meant. "No way. Seriously. You won't talk to her, but you'll shoot yourself for her?!"
"Yes."
"Cut yourself instead. A bullet wound after tonight would be too suspicious."
Alexander touched his side. Hidden under the layers of his clothes was a scar. Long healed, but one that reminded him everyday how close he had come to death. If it weren't for her, he wouldn't be standing here. That night when she stitched him up, humming a children's song the entire time, before slapping a pink sparkly bandaid over a small cut on his cheek.
He shoved the memories away.
"I don't have a knife."
Pariston gasped, eyes wide with shock. "You're serious. Oh my goodness how did I end up with you?"
Alexander stared at the gun in his hands, the very same one that had almost taken his life five years ago.
He handed it to Pariston. "Shoot me. Now."