1
When A Man Can’t Afford Honor
Standing twenty yards away, I rest my hand on my hip and keep my eyes trained on the man that makes my blood run hot. Deep in shadow, I press my back to the dirty exhaust and oil slicked brick wall.
I watch her move toward me.
I watch him stalk her from close behind.
Silver-gray trench coat – her, not him. Long blonde hair that sways in the light evening breeze. Longer cream legs. Heels that cost more than my month’s rent – perhaps even a year.
She walks the dark underworld like she belongs here.
Her eyes hold arrogance, like she thinks she belongs. She’s clearly a princess inherworld. Of the upper class. The kind of girl whose daddy never said no.
But the purse slung carelessly over her shoulder – so accessible, even a thief straight out of his mother’s womb could take it – proves her naïveté.
Stupid, stupid fucking woman doesn’t belong here.
Rage courses through my veins at her ignorance. Ten feet from where I stand hidden in shadow, her heels click-click-click, echoing in the muffled silence; the only other sound, the music she hums under her breath.
So fucking casual.
He prowls ten feet behind her, hunting her like the killer he is. The silver glint of a knife catches the light, reflecting off the metal emergency stairs that stretch above my head.
The lights from the club leave her with a sense of safety. Foolish, since almost everyone in that club is waiting for this exact moment, for womenjust like herto walk in.
She’s careless.
She thinks music and a crowd equals safety.
Not atInfernos.
Security cameras monitor this entire club, but none of them feed the cop shop. They simply relay into Abel Hayes’ office.
He watches over his dancers.
His fighters.
His muscle.
Me.
But he’s not the kinda guy you could count on to report nefarious shit to the cops; nefarious, like a leggy blonde getting fucked and scalped in the dirty alleyway out back.
Every step she comes closer, every tap of her shoes on the concrete, echoes inside my chest.
Why the fuck is she here? Why tonight? Of all men, why must my control be tested in front of Lance?
My job is to stay invisible. To stand by and wait for the handover.
Abel pays me to make his life easier.
Safer.
But now a woman comes out pretending she’s twenty-five, but probably isn’t a day over eighteen, walks my alleyway, and makes me choose between her life and mine.
I don’t know her.