Gracie looks up as I approach. Her face turns from scared and angry to just plain terrified, and I loom over the denim-clad asshole with my arms over my chest and stare at him. His friend notices me first and nudges the guy. “Mikey, bro, you should, uh, let her go.”
“Let her go? I was just about to tell her what I’d do on our wedding night. It’ll be fun, darling, listen, so I’ll get you a massive case of beer—”
“If you don’t let my waitress go before I finish this sentence, I’m going to break your wrist and shove a glass of whiskey so far up your ass you’ll puke it back up, do you understand?”
The guy drops Gracie’s wrist and turns, something sharp on his lips, anger in his eyes—and the moment he spots me, all that evaporates as he pales and looks down at his hands.
“Shit, uh, sorry, uh, sir. I didn’t mean—”
I lean closer and smell the gin on his breath. “Get the fuck out.”
The guy leaps up. “Sorry, we’re going.” He darts past Gracie, high-tailing it to the door with his friend right behind him. They hurry past Oscar, who looks over with a startled frown, and I give him a look like, I’m doing your job for you, asshole, and he has the good sense to seem a bit sheepish, the lazy bastard.
“Thanks,” Gracie says, staring with me with those big innocent eyes. How the fuck did a girl that looks like she belongs in a church choir end up working at a place like this?
How did she end up drugging my brother?
“Just doing my job.” I turn to walk away, but she speaks over the music.
“You don’t have to stare at me all night, you know. I’m not going to run away.”
I turn and, against my better judgment, I advance on her with a mixture of anger and pure dripping lust in my heart. “If I want to stare at you, little thief, I’m going to eye-fuck you until you’re dripping wet and pleading with me to finish you off. Do you understand?”
“Asshole,” she hisses, taking a stumbling step backwards and looking around like someone might help, but this is my club, my rules, and I get to do whatever I want in my house.
“I’m glad you get me. Have you made up your mind about my offer?”
“Not yet. Asshole.” She glares heated death and it makes my cock twitch. That rage is sexy as hell, giving her good-girl vibe a sharp, wicked, twisted edge.
“Then keep thinking, do your job, and stay fucking quiet.”
I turn and storm off, returning to my spot at the bar. Juniper stands nearby taking an order, but all the while she’s staring at Gracie like she wants to walk over and scalp the poor girl, and I can smell a problem brewing but fuck both of them.
Diego returns after a few minutes and I’m busily drinking the hell out of my whiskey while staring at my phone like I might crack the screen with my gaze.
“You good, Cal?”
“I’m good.” I turn to him, my jaw locked in anger. “I need you to find everything you can on Grace.”
He blinks in surprise. “You want me to do a deep dive?”
“Where she grew up. Her family. Everything. And I want it all by tomorrow morning.”
“Jesus, Cal, that’s not enough time. I’ll be up all fucking night.” He looks at his watch, shaking his head. “It’s already eight.”
“Get me as much as you can and do it. I’ll pay triple.”
“It’s not about the money,” he says with a dramatic sigh. “I have a social life, you know.”
“Forget your social life.”
“Yes, as always.” He gives me a mocking salute. “Whatever you want, boss, but I can’t promise I’ll be thorough.”
I sigh and finish my whiskey. “You know I appreciate your work.”
“And I know you’re a miserable little ball of stress and rage just waiting to explode on the first asshole that steps out of line. I assure you, it won’t be me.” He grins, bumps my elbow with his, and stalks off into the night.
I really do need to get better at managing my people.
Chapter 5
Grace
I’m exhausted after work and I keep seeing the vicious, rage-fueled glare on Calvino’s face as he told the handsy customer to leave me alone. He’s never done that before—normally, it’s up to whatever bouncer’s on duty to come over and help, which is hit or miss since half the time they’re too busy watching the dancers to notice anything—and the fact that he came over at all has to mean something.
Maybe he sees me as a good investment and nothing more, like another one of his clubs—or maybe it’s something more.
Exactly what that something more is, I have no clue, and I’m not sure I want to find out.