Mine to Keep

by Rhenna Morgan

  The scrape of metal chair legs against the black-and-white industrial tile shot through the diner.

  Evie paused at the end of the counter and turned toward the sound.

  Backing away from the popular round booth in the back corner was a slightly balding fortyish-looking man with a short-sleeve checked button-down barely covering his paunch. His black pants were a tad too short in the length, but they were clean and well-pressed. He clenched some papers in his hand and executed a semi-bow that could have been interpreted as fear or extreme respect. Maybe a little of both.

  One glance at who was sitting in the booth and the tense gesture made sense.

  Sergei Petrovyh.

  She’d missed seeing him on the way in. Which said a lot about how distracted the new twist in her life had left her because just thinking his name made her flush. Actually looking at him made her and three-quarters of the female population too tongue-tied to talk. The other quarter mostly threw themselves at him and prayed to any god who would listen for a chance to hear that deep Russian accent of his up close and personal. Preferably in a situation where no clothes were involved.

  Rather than butt into Dorothy’s rant with the chef in the kitchen, Evie waited near the register and straightened a stack of menus.

  The balding man said something to Sergei, took two more steps backward, then turned and quick-stepped it toward the front door.

  Her gaze drifted back to Sergei, though she covered her leisurely perusal by thumbing through an order pad near the register. Dark wavy hair to his shoulders, sharp facial features, one of those sexy-as-hell tightly cropped beards and a deliciously tall and fit body to go with it.

  But it wasn’t just his looks that left women wanting. It was his power. A charisma burning behind his dark blue eyes and a graceful yet predatory edge behind every movement. In short, Sergei Petrovyh was the kind of man who could make any female forget her problems for at least a few precious moments with a single look.

  Actually, if she was honest, Sergei could eradicate her problems completely. It was what he’d done for a long list of people in her neighborhood since he’d moved to New Orleans a little over a year ago—traded fixing untenable situations in exchange for obligations owed.

  More to the point...he was a mobster.

  A damned good-looking one, for sure, but a seriously dangerous man all the same.

  Footsteps and muffled grumbling registered a few seconds before Dorothy’s droll voice cut through Evie’s ogling. “Girl, I’ve seen star-struck groupies act less obvious than you right now.”

  Evie crushed the urge to flinch like a guilty schoolgirl and gave Sergei another thorough once-over just to prove to both of them she could. Seriously, the man was like a Greek god. Maybe it was all that olive skin. Or the fact that he moved like a panther. The custom-tailored suits he wore definitely made the fashion lover in her want to stretch out and purr.

  So, yeah. She was old enough to ogle all she wanted and wasn’t about to apologize to anyone for doing it. Especially not after the day she’d had. “Nothing wrong with looking.” She faced her momma’s lifelong friend, leaned a hip onto the counter and braced one hand on the other. “And lookin’ at him is a damn sight better than tryin’ to figure out how I’m gonna pull off a major miracle between now and Monday.”

  Dorothy tucked her order pad inside the pocket of her white apron. Her daddy had named her after Dorothy Dandridge purely because he’d had a crush on the actress when Dorothy had been born, but she’d grown into a woman as beautiful as her namesake. At sixty-eight years old, her skin was wrinkled and her hair a soft gray, but her near-black eyes were still sharp as ever. She eyeballed Evie the way only a mother could. “What kind of miracle are we talking about?”

  “The kind where I find a job.”

  “I thought you were goin’ for a supervisor position with the cleaning gig. What happened?”

  Evie threw up her hands, then crossed her arms across her chest. “Damned if I know. Something about a security breach and my badge being used to access an attorney’s office after hours last weekend. Which is complete crap. Aside from me and Emerson going to the Farmers Market and the church potluck last Saturday, me and my badge were home all weekend. It had to be a mix-up.”

  “You tell ’em that?”

  “’Course I did. But they weren’t listening. Said they didn’t have a choice but to let me go with their security policy.”

  Dorothy frowned and ambled behind Evie to the back countertop and the tub of clean silverware waiting to be rolled into napkins. She laid out the first napkin and got to work. “Not sure how that constitutes an emergency. I know you, Evie. You’re always bracin’ for a storm. Don’t tell me you don’t have savings.”

  “All of that’s going to Emerson’s tuition.”

  “I thought he was on a wait list. No point in scrimping now if you need it and have time to build it back.”

  “He’s not on a wait list anymore.” Evie moved in beside her. She’d been rolling napkins at Dorothy’s place for as long as she could remember and had worked through countless crises with the simple task. “The dean called this week and said one of the kids is moving. I can apply for a scholarship, but I have to pony up the tuition to hold the spot while they process it.”

  “How much is it?”

  “$900.”

  Dorothy’s head snapped her direction and her voice rose enough a good amount of the diner’s chatter ceased. “$900? Are you insane?”

  “Dorothy!” she whisper-scolded with a pointed look in Emerson’s direction. “Emerson needs this. All his teachers say he needs this place. Say he’s bored to tears in public schools and that a Montessori school is perfect for a kid like him.”

  “Pshht.” Dorothy shook her head. “That much money just to hold a spot, that school better pave him a gold path to heaven and wipe his ass, too.” She paused long enough to let a comfortable silence stretch between them, then aimed a sideways look at Evie. “So? What you gonna do?”

  “Well, I was hopin’ maybe you could let me work for you a little while I look for something else.”

  Dorothy sighed. A genuine one that said she didn’t like sharing the words that came next any more than Evie wanted to hear them. “Can’t do that, baby girl. These ladies I got now are quality and if I scrimp on their schedules, they’ll go find someplace else to work. Best I can do is give you a call if one of ’em calls in sick, but that ain’t gonna happen. They need the money too bad.”

  Well, shoot.

  So much for Plan B.

  She placed a perfectly rolled set on top of Dorothy’s growing pile, turned, leaned her butt against the counter and crossed her arms on her chest. “This is such absolute crap.” Fear tried to push its way up from her chest, fueled by a healthy dose of long-ignored desperation and frustration. “I can’t blow this chance for Emerson. He needs it. He needs...” To smile. To play. To be able to be a kid and just enjoy himself a little while. “He needs something. If this school is gonna give it to him, then I’ll take up workin’ the streets if I have to.”

  “Not gonna come to that,” Dorothy said with all the quiet confidence of a woman who’d already forged her way through raising her own kids. “Lord’s gonna give you what you need when you need it. He always does.”

  “Hmmph.” Evie chewed on the inside of her lip to keep from saying what she really wanted to. Namely, that if the Lord was gonna give her what she needed, it’d sure be nice if he’d tell her how he planned to do that sooner rather than later.

  Like a magnet, her gaze shifted back to Sergei. The two men she often saw him with at the diner and around town now sat flanked on either end of the round booth. Kir Vasilek was big and intimidating like Sergei, but had beautiful blue eyes and blond hair. He used both to his advantage and had created a heck of a reputation in Mid-City as a supreme playboy. Roman Kozlov, on the other hand, rarely
interacted with anyone. Probably because his big, imposing body, menacing features and hard facial structure made people think he was the devil incarnate.

  Sergei could eradicate her problems completely.

  The thought was a little subtler this time. A murmur uttered with the silken voice of temptation. “What about him?” she said to Dorothy under her breath.

  Dorothy twisted and studied Evie’s face, then followed her gaze to Sergei. After years keeping a diner open in a rough part of town through every kind of hard time imaginable, not much drew her old friend up short, but in that second, Dorothy showed genuine concern. She covered it almost as quickly as it had come up and went back to her silverware. “Don’t think you need protection, doll. I think you need a job.”

  “Well, maybe he knows someone. Could give me a lead or a reference. One look at those clothes he wears and that slick BMW outside, you know he’s loaded. That means he’s gotta know other rich people.”

  “He might know ’em. Might even give you a leg up with ’em, but in case you missed it—a man like him does you a favor, you’ll end up owing for what you get.”

  “You did it.”

  It was a childish response. Something more appropriate for when she’d been sixteen and arguing with her mom and Dorothy about what a girl should and shouldn’t wear. Not when she was twenty-eight and figuring out how to pay her bills.

  But if Dorothy felt the slight, she didn’t show it. Just kept right on rolling. “Lesser of two evils, child. I had thugs taking over my diner. Sergei took care of that and in exchange I give him a place to do business. A small price to pay to keep my place safe, but don’t let that handsome face fool you. He’s got dark in him. A lot of it. And he’s not afraid to let it out.” She paused a moment, the look on her face that of a woman searching for the right words to share next. She finally paused and faced Evie, lowering her voice. “Right now, you’ve got money troubles. You bring him into your life, you’ll solve one problem, but might end up with an even bigger one.”

  “Out of the frying pan into the fryer, huh?”

  Her eyes softened, a whole wealth of wisdom Evie couldn’t begin to comprehend staring back at her. “Something like that.”

  Evette sighed and chewed the inside of her lip. The only other option she could think of would have made her momma roll over in her grave, but she threw it out there anyway. “I guess I could ask Uncle Carl for some cash. He was wavin’ a big wad of it around here the other day. He’s crazy as the day is long, but he’s always offering to help me and Emerson.”

  “No.” Dorothy’s retort was so hard and fast, Evette felt it like a jolt. While she softened her tone almost as quickly, her hands shook when she picked back up with the napkins. “Your momma had reasons why she kept her distance from Carl. It’s best you do the same.”

  It wasn’t the first time Dorothy had expressed her dislike for Carl. Why she and her mother didn’t like him had never been something they’d been willing to share, but considering Evette didn’t like being around him either, she’d never pushed it.

  Evette braced her hands on the counter behind her and stared at Sergei.

  Sergei turned and caught her gaze.

  Trapped it.

  Owned the connection so completely Evie would have sworn he’d overheard her entire conversation.

  Which was absolute bull-hockey. He couldn’t have. He was just an intimidating man with a good sense of intuition.

  But he could help her.

  Way faster than anyone else in this neighborhood.

  She shifted her attention to Emerson, now done with his dinner and staring out the window to the street beyond. “Any chance I can talk you into a hot fudge sundae for Emerson?”

  “Any chance I can talk you out of what you’re thinkin’ about doing?”

  “Not unless you can tell me how to get a job by Monday and where I can find another $500 in time to hold that spot for Emerson.”

  Dorothy kept her silence.

  “Come on, Dorothy. You said yourself he’s not a complete bad guy. Heck, I remember you actually mentioned you liked him once. You’ve never even said you liked Father Manny and everyone likes him.”

  “Yeah, but I love you. Same as I loved your mama. You mark my words, you tangle with Sergei Petrovyh, there’s no telling what you’ll be in for.”

  “Well, if it makes my boy smile for once, I’m thinking it’d be worth it.”

  Dorothy shook her head, picked the heavy tub up like it weighed nothing and slid it under the counter. She faced Evie, studied her for long seconds, then nodded and headed for the kitchen. “I’ll make two sundaes. Have a feelin’ that boy’s not the only one who’s gonna need a pick-me-up before this day is through.”

  Don’t miss His to Defend, available now from Carina Press

  www.CarinaPress.com

  Copyright © 2019 by Rhenna Morgan

  Don’t miss the rest of the NOLA Knights series by Rhenna Morgan!

  His to Defend (book one)

  Hers to Tame (book two)

  Mine to Keep (book three)

  Also by Rhenna Morgan:

  Men of Haven Series

  Rough & Tumble (book one)

  Wild & Sweet (book two)

  Claim & Protect (book three)

  Tempted & Taken (book four)

  Stand & Deliver (book five)

  Down & Dirty (book six)

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  ISBN-13: 9781488054174

  Mine to Keep

  Copyright © 2020 by Rhenna Morgan

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