by Nicole York
With that, she left with her dignity and pride. She left her insecurities, self-doubt, and self-loathing back in the salon where it belonged.
25
Marcus
Zak eyed Marcus with concern as he hoisted a box full of twelve bottles of vodka onto one of the higher shelves in Kadia’s storage room. His wound twinged with sharp pain that shot like lightning bolts down his right arm, but Marcus didn’t let on that he was experiencing any discomfort.
He’d had worse than this. That was for damn sure.
Still, Zak was concerned.
“I haven’t seen you in weeks, and when we finally end up working a shift together, I learn you got shot. And by one of our own boys at that.” Zak clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “You should be doing paperwork and handling shipping from your office. I can call Dean in here to help unpack.”
“I’m fine, Zak.” Marcus meant it. The last thing he wanted was any special treatment.
Zak remained unconvinced but didn’t say anything else on the subject. He and Marcus had been working together long enough for him to know when to leave something alone. This was one of those times. Marcus had told Zak what went down on Saturday night and warned him to keep his eyes peeled in the club just to make sure Adam Cooper didn’t decide to come around for round two. Marcus doubted Cooper would break the deal they’d made so quickly, but there was no harm in being prepared.
Marcus resisted the urge to mindlessly rub his wound as he pretended not to notice how closely Zak was still watching him.
“I’m fine,” he said again, more firmly this time.
Zak chuckled. “You have a strange—if not blatantly incorrect—definition of the word fine.”
“I didn’t know you knew what the word blatantly meant.”
“Get fucked, Marcus.”
Marcus laughed. It hurt. He laughed harder.
It felt good being back at Kadia after the shit show that was the weekend. His run-in with Cooper in the tunnels felt like it had happened weeks ago, if not months ago, and he was eager for the dust to settle.
Kate was gone. She and Jon had caught an early morning flight that morning back to New Orleans. He could picture them now, sitting cuddled up on their sofa in a living room that Marcus knew Kate would have painted white. She always loved white rooms with plenty of natural light. She used to tell him how badly she wanted a window seat one day.
He hoped she had one and that she sat there propped up against cushions with a cup of hot coffee while she pored over a book or watched the rain trickle down the window.
Fuck, she’s turned me soft too.
Marcus had replayed his conversation he had with Kate out on his balcony over and over again in his mind and it kept circling back to one thing—Keesha.
He wanted to see her. He wanted to tell her he was sorry for dragging her into this mess, and he wanted to explain who and what Kate was to him. He wanted to know why Keesha had run out. And why she’d stayed in the first place. And he wanted her.
He wanted Keesha.
The realization that Kate no longer made his body burn with lust had been a startling one. For a long time, he’d figured she would never lose her hold over him. But apparently, she had. For him, it was no secret why.
Someone else had taken her place.
Finally.
A knock on the doorframe made him look up. Dean swung around the frame and braced himself with one hand over his head. “There’s someone here to see you, boss.”
“Who is it?” Marcus asked.
“He wouldn’t give me a name. Broad-shouldered guy. Kinda mean looking.”
Marcus arched an eyebrow. “That sounds like eighty percent of the people I know.”
Dean pushed off the frame. “Come see for yourself. I don’t know what to tell you.”
Zak nodded for Marcus to go ahead, so he left his manager to finish unpacking the order and followed Dean down the hall to the main floor of the club. They came out beside the bar, and at the opposite end, Marcus spotted his visitor.
Dimitri Demarco sat on the furthermost barstool.
“Well shit,” Marcus breathed.
Dimitri turned, rose smoothly from the stool, and tugged at the sleeves of his black button-up shirt. He wore no tie or jacket. His jeans were dark and his boots were military style.
Dimitri strode toward Marcus and reached out a hand. They shook, and Dimitri nodded at Marcus’s chest. “How’s the wound?”
“Not bad,” Marcus said. “Didn’t expect you to come all the way down here.”
“I wanted to discuss things in person,” Dimitri said. “Can we speak privately somewhere?”
“I hope you don’t mind stairs.”
Marcus led Dimitri through the empty club. Hardly a soul was there, just Marcus, Zak, and Dean. Nobody else would show for at least another five or so hours. The cleanup crew had already swept the place early this morning to get it ready for the night, and as Dimitri climbed the first set of stairs, Marcus noticed him checking the place out.
They stopped at a standing table on the second floor.
“Here is fine,” Dimitri said.
He wasn’t saying it, but Marcus suspected his boss didn’t want to climb any more stairs because he didn’t want Marcus to strain himself. Marcus appreciated his concern, but it was misplaced. Marcus could handle himself.
“Tell me about what happened with Cooper in the tunnels,” Dimitri said.
Marcus gave Dimitri the play by play. He left no details out. He included Keesha and Cooper’s threat, and took accountability for being the one to make the call to let him leave the tunnels in one piece.
“I know it might not have been the course of action you’d take,” Marcus said, “but I wasn’t willing to risk it. Cooper is a man of his word. If things got ugly down there, who knows how quickly his pawns would have moved on our people? Who knows how many graves we would have to dig?”
Dimitri had listened intently to the entire tale, all the while running an absent finger along his jaw. “We may never get an opportunity like that again.”
“I know.”
“If this stripper of yours hadn’t been down there, would things have gone differently?”
Marcus considered the question. He liked to believe that he would have made the same call either way, but there was no way to be sure. “I can’t say.”
Dimitri made an unimpressed sound in the back of his throat.
Marcus rubbed the back of his neck. “Cooper wants to isolate his business to California. He’s going to pull out of New York and Chicago.”
“And if he comes for us again?”
“I’ll kill him myself.”
Dimitri sighed. “I don’t like it. But I can’t deny that I might have made the same choice in your shoes. What about Cole?”
“What about him?”
“Do you trust him?”
“Yes,” Marcus said.
“Despite his choice to act against you?”
Marcus shrugged. “In my experience, working with men who think for themselves is better than working with those with the minds of sheep. We need followers. But we need men like him, too. He’s still fresh and bound to make mistakes. His judgment is still clouded by procedure and law. Give him time. He’ll come around. Hell, I’m sure he’ll be just as fucked up as the rest of us in no time.”
“Let’s hope so,” Dimitri said. “He’s yours to look out for. If he missteps again—”
“He won’t.”
Dimitri nodded slowly. “Thank you for putting Izzy and my family first, Marcus. I’m glad we have you on board. You make good decisions under pressure. Drake agrees.”
Marcus tried to hide his surprise. He wasn’t accustomed to recognition or praise, both of which made him uncomfortable.
Dimitri moved away from the table and headed for the stairs. “I have more business to see to while I’m in the city. I’ll stop by again before I leave and we’ll have a drink.”
“Sounds good, boss.”
Dimitri paused at the top of the stairs with his hand on the railing. “This stripper,” he said, his voice oddly curious. “Is she worth it?”
“Worth what?”
“Getting shot over?” Dimitri’s mouth twitched as he held back a smile.
“Yes.”
Dimitri nodded but didn’t say anything else. He descended the stairs, walked past the bar with a nod to Dean, and made for the front doors. Sunlight burst through them and lit up the first floor down below. Marcus moved to the railing and peered down at his club while he wondered what his future held. A man like Dimitri could open a lot of doors for him, and by the sounds of it, things were in the works.
Marcus knew he was right where he was supposed to be.
He was home.
Kadia’s front doors swung open again and a woman stalked in. Momentarily blinded by the bright flash of sunlight, Marcus couldn’t make out the silhouette that stalked into the room, stopped in the middle of the dance floor, and peered around with her fist planted on her hips.
He knew before he could make out her features that it was Keesha.
She looked up and spotted him leaning against the railing. She began marching toward the stairs.
Uh oh.
He went to meet her at the top of the stairs.
She beat him there, met him by the railing, looked him right in the eyes, and spat, “I quit.”
His heart tightened. What the fuck is this feeling?
She quit? Just like that? Was he that easy for her to walk away from?
He growled at his own vulnerability and cursed himself for caring. For wanting her to stay.
And for wanting her in the first place.
26
Keesha
“You heard me. I quit. I’m not doing this shit anymore.”
Marcus stared at her like she’d just slapped him.
It did not shake her resolve. She was done with Kadia. And she was done with all the fuckery that came with it.
Marcus pinched the bridge of his nose. “I thought you liked stripping? What was that bullshit about it making you feel powerful?”
“It does.” She shook her head sharply. “Or it did. That’s not the point. The point is that I have a daughter, Marcus. She deserves a mother with a career that doesn’t involve taking her clothes off in front of strangers and profiting off their willingness to objectify a woman. Soon, she’ll be old enough to ask questions. I want to be able to answer them without feeling like a hypocrite.”
Marcus stared at her and she stared back.
Wasn’t he going to say something? Anything? Did he have questions?
Or a fucking apology at the very least?
She fumed. This was already not going how she thought it would. Keesha figured he’d fight to make her stay—or at least try. She thought he would do something. But this? This certainly wasn’t what she’d expected or wanted from him.
“Well,” she said, biting her bottom lip. “I’ll stay until you replace me with another dancer and then I’m out.”
She turned toward the stairs. If he didn’t want her, so be it.
Had she imagined the lust between them? The chemistry? The passion? The love?
Apparently.
Marcus caught her wrist and spun her back to face him. “You think you can walk away from me just like that?”
She tried to pull her hand free but he wouldn’t release her.
Here it was. The fight.
She relished it.
Keesha glared up at him. “Fuck you, Marcus. I thought I was going to die this weekend! Did you know that? And then I thought you were going to die and I honestly don’t know which one terrified me more. I thought I would never see my little girl again. I thought I had failed her!”
Marcus’s grip loosened, but he didn’t let go.
Keesha searched his eyes for compassion. “And when everything was finally okay and I knew we were going to survive, some bitch with come-fuck-me eyes walks in and it was like I just disappeared. Like I hadn’t even been there in the first place! I’ve never been so scared and angry in my life.”
And hurt.
Marcus grimaced. “She’s someone from my past.”
“So am I.”
“It’s more complicated than that.”
“It always is with you, Marcus. You can never just say how something is. You can never be straight. You’re always holding on to something just for yourself so you can have the illusion of control. Well, guess what? I’m not fucking falling for it! I’m done with your games and your bravado and your bullshit. Let. Me. Go.”
His stare had darkened. “You watch how you speak to me, woman.”
“What are you going to do?” she spat. “Spank me? Call me a bad girl? You’re full of shit.”
Dean coughed down below and Keesha knew it was his way of telling them he could hear every word they said.
She didn’t give a damn.
Neither did Marcus.
He got in her face. “You knew who I was when you accepted the job here. I’ve never kept that a secret from you. You know my life is dangerous and you know I’ve always tried to keep you out of it. I didn’t force you into this, Keesha. You walked in of your own volition.”
She gritted her teeth. “You’re right. And that’s how I’m walking out.”
“Like a bitch?”
She wrenched her wrist free and would have shoved him if he hadn’t been shot forty-eight hours ago. “Like a woman who knows she deserves better, you coward.”
“Coward?” he seethed.
“You heard me.”
Marcus’s chest swelled with anger.
She knew she was playing with fire, and she knew she was lashing out at him, but fuck, he deserved it. He deserved all of it.
“You’re the same as you always were,” Keesha said. “Selfish, violent, cruel, and—”
“Enough.”
“Wicked,” she added.
“I said enough!”
“All you’ve ever cared about was power and money and how afraid of you everyone was! Well guess what, asshole? I’m not afraid of you! I never have been!”
He grabbed hold of her by the back of her neck. She went rigid in his grip but knew he wouldn’t hurt her. He wouldn’t dare. “Then what are you scared of?” he asked, nostrils flaring like a wild animal.
“Feeling like this all the time,” she whispered.
His eyes flicked back and forth between hers.
Keesha hated how the tears came for her again. She hated the way her throat tightened and her chest ached. “Let me go.”
Marcus released her.
She wiped shaking hands under her eyes to try to rid herself of the tears but they continued to fall. “You don’t know how scared I was,” she whispered. “And you were so preoccupied with Kate that you didn’t even notice I left. How long did it take, Marcus? Why didn’t you call me yesterday to check in? Didn’t you care if I was okay?”
“Of course, I cared.”
She shook her head. “You have a shitty way of showing it. It’s a good thing I don’t need you anymore.”
Keesha spun on her heel and marched down the stairs to the first floor down below. Dean, who had obviously been listening to every word while he wiped the same spot on the bar dozens of times over, pretended to look busy by throwing his rag over his shoulder and rearranging some glasses on the shelves down below. They locked eyes when her boot hit the first floor and he offered her what might have been an apologetic and understanding smile.
She tried to smile back but failed. The tears continued to fall instead.
She heard Marcus coming down the stairs after her.
“Better walk faster,” Dean muttered under his breath.
Keesha picked up her pace, but she wasn’t quick enough to escape Marcus’s long strides. He caught up with her at the end of the bar. “Keesha.”
The sound of her name on his lips hurt her soul.
She didn’t turn back to him. What was the poi
nt of this? Of any of this? All they were going to do was scream at each other until they were both blue in the face. Marcus would never change his ways. Hell, she didn’t want him to.
This is so fucking confusing, she thought.
She would never ask Marcus to change for her—just like he would never ask her to change. All she needed from him was a bit more compassion and understanding after everything they’d gone through. She’d thought she was going to die for fuck sakes!
Dean moved down to the opposite end of the bar. “I think there’s some glassware in the kitchen that needs cleaning… erm, yeah… good luck, kids.” His discomfort was obvious but Keesha didn’t feel the least bit guilty as he slipped away into the kitchen, the saloon-style doors swinging in his wake.
Marcus kept his distance this time. He tried to find the right words. “I don’t know what to say that will make it better.”
“I’m not asking you to make it better.”
He licked his lips.
Fuck, she was piling so much on him. He was probably up to his eyeballs in the fallout of what happened with Cooper. Did he really need an emotional soon-to-be ex-stripper giving him more grief?
Guilt crawled around inside her belly. “I should just go.”
“Stay.”
“Why?”
“Do you really need to ask me that?”
He sounded so vulnerable. And tired. So very tired.
“I do,” she breathed. “I don’t know what goes on in that head of yours. I don’t know what you think about late at night when you’re alone. I feel like I don’t even know you anymore. We used to be friends, Marcus. We used to tell each other everything. And I used to trust you. Now I don’t know why I tried so hard to get you to let me back in when all you ever saw me as was a piece of ass that could work a pole and—”
“Keesha.” His sharp tone shut her up. He moved toward her, running a palm along the bar as he came. He stopped a foot away. “I never wanted you to get hurt.”
