Forget the lottery. Who needed all that cash? I’d be happy with a safe roof over my head and a job that didn’t make my skin crawl. Non-creepy jobs were in short supply when your formerly wealthy, asshole addict of a father blew your life to smithereens, and you had to leave in the middle of the night without so much as a high school diploma.
My ratty sneakers squeaked on the stained tile at 10thstreet station, and I was careful not to touch the railing. I’d made that mistake once before, and trust me when I said there wasn’t enough hand sanitizer in the world to rectify that mistake.
I had nothing to offer. The only thing people seemed to want from me was my looks. It had taken seven years of working dead-end jobs, waitressing, retail, and all sorts of life-sucking positions before I realized I was swimming upstream and damn tired of it. When I got the job at The Blue Rabbit, it was a reprieve. Yes, it was a gentlemen’s club, and yes, it was hell on Earth, but the tips were good, and I only worked the bar—for now. I did it because I had to look after my mother. Henry, the all-time worst dad of the year award-winner, had stopped pretending to be concerned if her bills got paid.
I’d brought us to New York, an expensive city, and I was the reason we stayed, so I was partly to blame. Because of that simple fact, I sucked back my pride and revulsion and went out to work day in, day out, rain or shine. I couldn’t leave the city. I wasn’t ready yet. I couldn’t let go of the one dream remaining in my tattered, abused heart. The only thing I had left to hold on to when everything else was stripped away.
There was a man somewhere in this city.
A man who knew me better than I knew myself. One day, I’d find that man. It was my dream. I didn’t know what happened after that. I had no expectations, no hopes, or plans. Plans weren’t for people like me. Fate had laughed at my plans too often.
But I still had my dream. No one could take it from me.
* * *
Another night,another shift at The Blue Rabbit.
If a table of rival businessmen came in, I could score tips-wise. No one spent more than sleazy Wall Street types trying to one-up each other. The ticking time bomb of my mother’s care home bills was always counting down in my head. I was running out of time to pay the increased amount. I bit my nails down into the quick, a horrible habit I’d never been able to shake.
I was an hour into work when the mood shifted. When they arrived, the whole place paused as if it was holding its breath.Men with tattoos and hip suits, looking around with the kind of deadly grace you didn’t want to fuck with. I knew The Blue Rabbit attracted all types, some of which were lords of the underworld. But until tonight, I couldn’t say I’d ever seen a truly dangerous-looking man in here.
Most of the regulars were bankers or spoiled, entitled trust funders. There was a smattering of politicians, tycoons, and high-up officials. They all reeked of the privilege and wealth that reminded me of my father and turned my stomach. They weren’t physically dangerous, at least not in the way these men were. These men didn’t dress like bankers or politicians. Every eye gravitated toward them as many a fat regular sat up straighter and sucked in their paunch so they didn’t look inferior.
A man joined them. Suddenly, I couldn’t look away. Taller and broader than the rest, he wore a long black overcoat with wide lapels pulled up against the cold. He held himself like someone important, reminding me of the one time I’d glimpsed a celebrity in line for coffee.
But I wasn’t sure which movie stars traveled with an entourage that looked like they had escaped from Ryker’s Island. The group moved through the main floor. It was subtle, but I had the impression that his friends were clearing a path for him through the crowd, despite him being bigger and broader than any of them. His hair was dark waves, so familiar it hurt. That was Kirill’s hair, wasn’t it? It curled over his collar, and he flicked it back from his forehead as he strode past me and headed directly for the VIP area. I turned and watched, speechless and rapt.
“Hot damn, there’s an eye candy show I’d pay for.” Theo whistled, watching the group of hardmen pass us. “Step on me, daddy,” he growled, making Federica laugh. “Who is that?”
Their quiet conversation fell away as I found myself rounding the bar.
“Hey, Lori, where are you going?” Theo asked.
I drifted away from the serving station.My heart was pounding so hard in my chest that I felt dizzy, and the throbbing in my temples made my knees weak. The group had settled in a large booth at the back of the VIP area, scattering other tables aside as they went. I didn’t know if they were asked to move, but the surrounding tables cleared out quickly.
The leader sat in the middle, stretching his long arms over the back of the booth while his men settled on either side of him. He straightened his endless legs under the table. Another man with a scar across one eye sat beside him, talking animatedly, his hands gesturing through the air with sharp punctuating movements. The man with Kirill’s hair was staring at him, emotionless but rapt.
I found my feet moving forward before I could question the wisdom of it. I strode toward the table, everything else in the place falling away.
“What do you want?”
A body collided with mine, and I bounced off it and nearly fell. I’d been so intent on getting to the stranger with Kirill’s eyes that I hadn’t realized two of his friends had blocked me from going any further.
“I need to speak to that man,” I said lamely.
“Which man?” one of the guards asked.
“Him,” I said, holding my breath, “The boss.” How else could I describe him? He was clearly in charge here. The power rolled off him like steam.
The men looked at each other. Fuck, these guys were tough-looking. I would run the other way if I met them at night in my neighborhood.
One had a teardrop tattoo falling from his eye. He turned and arched an eyebrow behind his shoulder.He turned back after a moment. “You have the wrong person. Sorry.” He sounded anything but.
“I-I can’t have. I mean, let me see for myself. It’ll take a second,” I said, trying to push past them.
“Look, lady, just do your job. We’re here to have fun. Don’t make a scene,” the other man said, his voice thick with an eastern European accent.
As he reached for me, his jacket flapped open, and I saw the shiny black grip of a handgun on his hip. My throat went dry. Plenty of people packed in New York, and many of the clients at The Blue Rabbit, too, but I’d never get used to seeing a gun out in the open.