Chapter Sixty-Nine: Sloppy Seconds
The knock on Hela's door was sharp. Insistent.
She pulled her robe tighter around her waist and padded across the apartment, her bare feet silent on the hardwood floor.
When she opened the door, Jack stood in the hallway.
His jaw was tight. His eyes were red-rimmed, like he'd been drinking or crying or both.
In his hand was a black duffle bag.
"Jack," Hela said, surprised. "What are you—"
Jack tossed the duffle bag into the apartment.
It landed with a heavy thud on the floor, the zipper partially open, revealing stacks of cash inside.
Hela stared at it. Then back at Jack.
"What's this?"
"The money Bella owes you," Jack said flatly. "All of it."
Hela's eyes narrowed. "I wanted Bella to pay me back."
"Too bad." Jack's voice was cold. "It was my debt in the first place. She only made that deal to save me."
Hela crossed her arms, leaning against the doorframe. Her robe slipped slightly, revealing the curve of her breast.
Jack didn't look.
"Are you busy?" he asked.
Hela opened her mouth to answer, but before she could, a man emerged from her bedroom.
He was shirtless, wearing only his underwear. His hair was disheveled, his chest glistening with sweat.
He looked between Jack and Hela, confused.
"Babe?" the man said. "Who's this?"
Hela sighed. "Nobody."
Jack reached into his jacket and pulled out a bag of weed and a bottle of expensive liquor—something amber and aged, the label written in French.
He held them up.
"We can share," Jack said, his tone flat. "If you kick him out."
Hela didn't hesitate.
She turned to the man and jerked her thumb toward the door. "Get out."
The man's face twisted. "Are you serious?"
"Dead serious."
"But we were—"
"Out," Hela said, her voice sharp.
The man grabbed his shirt from the floor and pulled it on, muttering under his breath. He shoved past Jack and disappeared down the hallway.
Hela stepped aside, gesturing for Jack to enter.
Jack walked in without a word.
***
The porch was small—barely big enough for two chairs and a rickety table.
But the view was stunning.
The city stretched out below them, a sea of lights flickering in the darkness. The skyline glittered like broken glass, sharp and beautiful.
Jack sat in one of the chairs, the bottle of liquor balanced on his knee. He pulled out rolling papers and the bag of weed, his movements slow and deliberate.
Hela sat beside him, her robe still loose, her legs crossed.
"This probably isn't as luxurious as your view from the penthouse," she said, her tone teasing.
Jack didn't respond.
He finished rolling the blunt and brought it to his lips. The lighter flared, casting his face in orange light.
He took a long drag, the smoke curling upward into the night.
Hela watched him.
His shoulders were tense. His jaw tight.
He looked... sad.
"What happened?" she asked quietly.
Jack exhaled slowly, the smoke drifting away on the breeze.
"Bella moved out."
Hela's mouth opened slightly.
The pieces clicked into place.
"One of my men saw her," Hela said slowly. "Saw her and Daniel kissing. He took a photo. Threatened her with it."
Jack nodded.
"That's why she paid the money back so suddenly," Hela continued. "She was afraid we'd hurt him."
"I know," Jack said.
Hela leaned forward, her elbows resting on her knees. "So what are you going to do about it?"
Jack took another puff of the blunt. "Nothing."
Hela blinked. "Nothing?"
"I've tried for months to get her back," Jack said, his voice hollow. "I've slowed down on the crime business. Limited my own participation. But nothing worked."
Hela laughed—a short, bitter sound.
"The great King," she said, shaking her head. "Felled by his own woman."
Jack's jaw tightened.
"Why don't you just threaten Daniel?" Hela asked. "Tell him to leave her alone."
"Bella's not that stupid," Jack said. "If I touched him in any way, she'd never forgive me."
Hela studied him. "So what, you're just going to give up?"
Jack went to take another puff, but Hela snatched the blunt from his hand.
"The Jack I know doesn't give up," she said, bringing it to her lips.
Jack watched her smoke, his expression unreadable.
"Do you have any bright ideas?" he asked.
Hela paused.
She thought about it.
And then she realized she had nothing.
"No," she admitted.
She passed the blunt back to Jack and leaned back in her chair.
"Do you want to have sex?" she asked.
Jack picked up the bottle of liquor and twisted the cap off.
"No thanks," he said, taking a drink straight from the bottle. "I'm not a big fan of cleaning up other men's sloppy seconds."
Hela's eyes flashed.
She punched him in the shoulder—hard—right on his blind side.
Jack grunted, nearly dropping the bottle.
"I'm no one's sloppy seconds," Hela said, her voice sharp.
Jack smirked faintly, but it didn't reach his eyes.
Silence settled between them.
They sat there, looking out at the city. Jack drank from the bottle. Hela took another puff of the blunt.
In the distance, Jack could see the cliff.
The same cliff he took Bella after Leena had broken his heart.
The place where he'd planned to propose to Bella.
He thought about that night. About the ring in his pocket. About the way she'd looked at him—like he was something more than what he'd become.
And then he thought about the way she looked at him now.
Repulsed.
Afraid.
I've changed, he thought. I've become something she can't love.
"Do you think I'm a bad person?" Jack asked quietly.
Hela turned to look at him, caught off guard.
"Why are you asking me that?"
Jack took another drink. "Because you're the only person that represents something close to a friend to me. Even Bones stopped being my friend after I punished him for trying to flirt with Bella."
Hela was silent for a moment.
Then she passed Jack the blunt and took the bottle from his hand.
"You're a horrible human being," she said.
Jack's jaw tightened.
"Especially when you first started," Hela continued. "I was scared of you. I found you sexy, but scary. I was afraid you'd be a second Kain. That you'd try to take Marcus's territory."
She took a drink, her eyes distant.
"But then..." She paused. "You turned into a commendable man. Still a horrible person. And perhaps you took things too far sometimes, but you have a code. A code that many men in your position don't have."
Jack stared at her.
"If I'm such a horrible person," he said slowly, "why do you hang out with me?"
Hela scoffed.
"Because I'm a horrible person too," she said. "I grew up around horrible people. My siblings. My stepfather. Rider."
She looked at him, and something in her expression softened.
She realized her answer wasn't what he wanted to hear.
Hela took another drink and sighed.
"You should let her go," she said quietly. "You live in two different worlds now."
Jack stared out at the city.
At the lights.
At the cliff in the distance.
He thought about Bella. About Daniel. About the life she was trying to build without him.
And then he sighed.
"Maybe I will be taking sloppy seconds after all," he said.
***
Rider sat at his desk, staring at the screen.
The bid for Crestfall Health was incomplete.
Jack's money—the money he'd promised—wasn't there.
Rider's jaw tightened.
He picked up his phone and dialed Jack's number.
It rang.
And rang.
And rang.
No answer.
Rider's grip on the phone tightened.
He dialed again.
This time, Jack answered.
"What?" Jack's voice was rough, distracted.
Rider could hear something in the background—breathing, squeaking. Movement.
"Why haven't you put the money in?" Rider demanded.
There was a pause.
And then Jack said, "I changed my mind."
Rider's vision blurred.
"What?"
"The deal's off," Jack said.
"We had a deal," Rider snarled. "I let you fuck Leena. You pledged your money."
"Leena didn't satisfy me," Jack said. "So the deal's off."
Rider's hand clenched into a fist.
And then he heard it.
A voice in the background.
Feminine. Familiar.
"Who are you talking to?" the voice asked.
"Rider," Jack said.
The woman laughed.
Rider's blood ran cold.
Rider hung up.
He stared at the phone for a moment, his chest heaving.
And then he threw it.
It hit the computer screen, shattering the glass.
Rider stood, his chair scraping back.
He grabbed the lamp from his desk and hurled it across the room. It smashed against the wall, the bulb exploding in a shower of sparks.
He swept everything off his desk—papers, pens, files—sending them scattering across the floor.
The door opened.
Leena stood in the doorway, her eyes wide.
"Rider?" she said. "Is everything alright?"
"No," Rider said, his voice shaking. "Everything is not alright."
He stared at her.
And then he remembered.
Marcus's offer.
The one he'd refused in king's paradise.
Let me have Leena for one week.
Rider's jaw tightened.
"Get out," he said.
Leena blinked. "What?"
"Get out," Rider repeated.
Leena hesitated, then turned and left, closing the door behind her.
Rider picked up his phone from the floor. The screen was cracked, but it still worked.
He dialed Marcus's number.
It rang twice before Marcus answered.
"Rider," Marcus said, his voice smooth. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
Rider's grip on the phone tightened.
"Does your deal still stand?" he asked.
There was a pause.
And then Marcus laughed.
"Of course," he said. "I'm a man of my word."