10
Sage
Vixenshadlivedupto every vile stereotype I expected. Would I ever get used to the stench of stale alcohol and cigar smoke, the morose faces of the almost-naked women grinding against poles, and the disrespectful assholes seated in booths? Every time a girl led a man to the seedy curtained-off rooms at the back of the club, a shiver of revulsion rippled through me.
Bright side? Being here gave me the perfect opportunity to search for the murdering bastard with the eagle tattoo.
Downside? Well, there were plenty of those. After waiting tables for a week, I had to admit I was…struggling. Studying during the day, then working late-night shifts was exhausting. And when I found time for sleep, it was interrupted by nightmares of the drive-by. Spending so much time around mobsters while constantly searching for the shooter had dragged those terrifying memories to the front of my mind. My dreams were more vivid than ever.
Lettie wondered why I insisted on working a job with such taxing hours. For her own safety, I couldn’t explain the disaster my life had become. I’d told her I was waitressing at a bar on the other side of town. Lying to her felt awful.
Thankfully, Brandon had accepted my demand to back off. After he’d returned my laptop, I hadn’t heard from him again. I wasn’t sure why that sent a pang of disappointment through me. After all, it was what I’d asked him to do.
I was at least thankful Dante hadn’t asked me to do anything outside my comfort zone. Yet. I counted myself lucky I’d been able to keep my clothes on, even if the waitress uniform barely covered the essentials. The black shorts were so tiny they displayed the ugly scar on my upper thigh. Hopefully, the mangled mess was a turnoff to anyone who looked.
I did whatever the bar manager, Angelo, needed. Made drinks, wiped tables, mopped the floor, all while keeping an eye out for the tattooed shooter. Inside the warm club, most removed their jackets and rolled up their sleeves. Although I’d spotted plenty of inked arms, none bore the attacking eagle.
This evening, Angelo asked me to take inventory of the alcohol. Using a notepad, I tallied bottles of spirits and cases of boutique beers in the musty storeroom.
Footsteps sounded behind me. I spun around, startled.
“My little assassin,” Dante purred as he approached with a smug grin.
His dark-gray suit and perfectly styled hair gave the illusion of an honorable man of class, but beneath the manicured exterior lurked a predator sizing up its prey. Backed up against a shelf stacked with bourbon and vodka, I had no escape.
It was on the tip of my tongue to mouth off that I wasn’t Dante’s little anything and never would be, but I had to be careful. I was in his territory now. Working in this club was like navigating a tank full of hungry sharks, with Dante the biggest of them all. Aside from the boss, Dante was the most powerful man in the building, possibly in all Philly. He could make my life a living hell or end it with the snap of his fingers.
Dante’s muscle-bound Russian bodyguard filled the doorframe and blocked the only way out of the cramped room. He was clad in dark jeans and a black thermal shirt stretched tight across his broad torso. Arms folded, he appraised me with a cold look of disinterest.
This last week, every time I’d seen Dante, Maxim had been close. And not always in a security capacity. They shared an office, ate together, entertained women together. It wouldn’t surprise me if they even screwed them together.
When I’d taken drinks to their office once, I’d seen Maxim use Dante’s personal cell phone and laptop. There was some serious trust between the pair. If they weren’t so obviouslynotrelated, I’d swear they were the oddest set of twins in history.
Dante’s eyes lingered a little too long on my cleavage and thighs. A chill ran through me that had nothing to do with the cool temperature of the storeroom. I stifled the urge to adjust my clothes and hair to better cover myself.
“You’re looking good, Sage. Maybe you’re ready for a promotion. Do you like to dance?” Dante hooked a finger under the spaghetti strap of my cami and slid it over my shoulder.
I flinched at his touch, and the bottles on the shelf rattled when I bumped into it. My heart pounded as if it were trying to break through my rib cage and flee the scene.
Stay cool. Don’t show fear.
“The lawnmower and vogueing are the only moves I’ve got.” I yanked the strap back in place. “Probably best if I keep waiting tables, or your customers will end up disappointed.”
Dante let out a mildly amused laugh. “Yeah, we’ll see about that.”
With him violating my personal space, his threat turned my mouth bone-dry. Dante stood a little taller than me, even in these uncomfortable heels, but I refused to be intimidated by him. I’d decided I wouldn’t let Dante Moretti ruin my life.
What would I do if he pushed my boundaries too far? Aside from all the ways I imagined killing him and making it look like an accident, I was fresh out of ideas. I had to find some way out of this deal. Until then, I’d put on a brave face.
“I’m busy.” I held up the notepad. “What do you want?”
His stare shifted from my tits to my face. “I need you to stay behind tonight. I have a…specialjob for you.”
Did I even want to know? Probably not. “But I finish at two, and I have class tomorrow.”
“That sounds like your issue, not mine.” Dante took a retreating step. “I’m out for the rest of the evening, but I’ll be back when your shift ends. If you’re not here”—his grin became sinister—“I’m really going to enjoy coming to find you.” He turned and headed for the hallway.
A shiver snaked up my spine. Maybe it was an idle threat and Dante was only trying to scare me. He got off on that. After all, he hadn’t saidWear skimpy hooker gearorBring your Glock and a shovel. Still, the not knowing ate me up inside.