That’s one person I have not seen since the night of “the incident.” And even though he’s smoking hot and interesting in a way I can’t quite describe even to myself, I am glad he’s been absent during my shifts. I don’t know what I’d say to him even if I did see him again. “Hey, how’s it going? Murder anyone today?”
I’m chuckling at my own demented joke as I walk up to my apartment, keys in hand. It’s a crappy ass apartment, but I’m not in a bad part of town. Still, I need to be careful. This is the city.
With a long sigh, I push the key in, shove the door open, and then stop dead in my tracks, my eyes doubling in size as I take in the sight in front of me.
At first, I’m petrified, afraid that my apartment has been broken into by some kind of a serial killer and I’m about to end up like the guy in the rug, but then I realize the large, sweaty man on the floor looking over his shoulder at me isn’t some stranger who had to break the door to get inside.
He just used the key.
“Mr. Koobak?” I ask, stepping into the living room as he hauls his ass up off of the floor. “What are you doing in here?”
The landlord has one of the floorboards pulled up, and it’s clear he’s been looking around down there. Once he’s up, he comes at me, and I can smell the sweat pouring out of his hairy pits, visible from his oversized wife-beater.
“Now, you listen here, you little whore, I can come into your goddamn apartment anytime I want to!” He grabs me by both arms and shakes me. “You gotta be an escort to be making that kind of cash!”
I pull away from him, pissed at the accusation. “You better not have touched a fucking penny of my money!” I shout at him.
Terrified to stay there, I run back out the door, not sure where I think I’m going, but I can’t stay there, not with this crazy man standing in my apartment making accusations against me.
Jumping in my car, I head to the only place where I know I’ll feel safe. I head home.
To Club Limelight.
CHAPTER7
HUNTER
Imade it through another night.
Standing at the bar, watching Carter make drinks as Leah and I discuss business, I’m having trouble concentrating because all I can think about is how another night is over, and I’ve gotten through it without approaching Meghan. I’m so fucking proud of myself, I’m considering fixing myself a drink. But I never take a sip of alcohol while I’m on the clock, and technically, I’ve got a couple more hours before we shut down and I can officially say I’m off.
Leah is talking about day-to-day financials for the club, something she does a great job of handling for me, along with legal shit, and I am nodding, pretending to listen to her, but my mind is elsewhere. I’ve got a lot going on. Besides Jonathan’s demise and the sale of Silver Towers. I’ve had a few clients come in with gold keys recently, and we’ve been dealing with that.
It’s a lot, but they don’t call me The Fixer because my job is easy.
As Leah is speaking, I catch a glimpse of auburn hair through the window in the door behind her, and a wave of confusion washes over me. I think that has to be Meghan. In fact, there seems to be something deep inside of my body that immediately lights on fire just because she’s nearby, but I have no idea why she’d be here.
“Carter,” I say, interrupting Leah. She glares at me, but she doesn’t call me on being a jerk. I’ll apologize later. “Isn’t Meghan’s shift over?” I ask.
“Yeah, about an hour ago. Why?” he asks, topping off a fruity-looking pink drink with a cherry before he puts it on a tray.
“I swear she just walked in,” I tell him, and excusing myself from Leah, I head down the hall and through the door to the back.
Allie and some of the other girls had stuck around to chat like they sometimes do, and I walk into the locker area to see Allie hugging Meghan as she cries. Allie’s stroking her hair and whispering something to her, but it seems clear to me that something awful has happened, and my gut instinct is to run to Meghan and protect her, to fix anything that’s wrong. After all, it’s my job to fix things, and I see someone I care about, to some degree, anyway, obviously in a lot of pain.
“Meg?” I say as I approach, trying to keep from charging across the room and pulling her against my chest. “What happened?”
She looks up, her beautiful face lined with streaks from tears, her green eyes puffy and raw. “Oh, hi, Mr. Stone,” she says, sniffling. I can tell she’s surprised to see me and maybe a bit embarrassed. “It’s nothing.” She waves her hand at me like she doesn’t want to talk.
“Clearly, it’s something,” I insist. I rest my hand on her shoulder gently and ask, “Did someone hurt you?”
She shakes her head and tries to come up with an answer that I will believe without telling me the truth, but as she peers into my eyes, I realize that she wants to tell me what happened. I give her a reassuring smile and tell her she’s okay now.
“It’s just…uh…I went home, and when I opened my apartment door…” She’s sniffling, and Allie steps away to grab her a tissue from next to the sink in the lounge. Meg thanks her and dabs at her eyes. “When I went inside my apartment, my landlord, Mr. Koobak, was in my apartment. It scared the shit out of me.” She laughs a little, and I increase the wattage on my grin that’s meant to make her feel better, but inside, I am already mobilizing to kick this fucker’s ass.
“What happened?” I ask. “Why was he in your home?”
She swallows hard. “I’m not sure. He was on the ground, digging around under a floorboard. He started calling me a whore…accused me of being an escort. I didn’t even stop to see if he took any of my money.” She wipes at her eyes again before saying, “I have about a grand in there I haven’t gotten a chance to take to the bank yet. Anyway, I just turned around and ran, and…I didn’t have anywhere else to go.”