Cut So Deep: A dark second chance romance (Dark and Deep Book 1)

by Jax Colt

  I creep closer to the door. An argument is happening. It’s two men. I can’t hear the words, but I can tell one of them is trying to defend himself. I slip inside and find myself crouching in the wash section of Caliber’s bar. The bar itself must be fifty feet long, and the voices are coming from the far end. No one is any wiser to my presence. This is not what I expected to find at all.

  The stench of years of spilled liquor and old lemons permeates my brain, and the soles of my shoes stick to the floor as I make my way down. I need to hear what’s being said. It may not be connected to April, but why else would Jessup be here ripping someone a new asshole on a Monday morning?

  I finally make it to the end of the bar, and squat in the circle where the flair bartenders toss bottles to show off to the ladies. Racks of bottles are stored right in front of my face, but that’s not what’s on my mind as one of the men gives the other a mighty kick, and I hear him start to retch.

  “Well, where the fuck are they?” The guy he’s talking to is close to sniveling, and obviously on the floor as he begs and swears he doesn’t know.

  I ask myself if I should do something. Shit, I didn’t even radio in my location. This was supposed to be a quiet visit, and nobody knows I’m here. Even Carrie thinks I’m on my way to 43rd Street with April’s phone. If I do say something to help this poor fucking guy, then my whole case could be jeopardized. Unauthorized entry into Caliber, for starters. But, I figure if the guy on the floor still knows something, then he’s got to be relatively safe from extinction. Then he receives another kick, and I hear the crunch of a boot into soft skin.

  Even if I do nothing, I need to find out who’s taking the beating, so I start to slowly unfold my legs. Inch by inch, I rise up past the bins of ice and condiment holders until my line of sight is just level with the top of the bar’s lacquered surface. From here, I can see into the lounge section of Caliber where a man in a suit with his back to me is standing over a prone figure on the floor.

  The tray of glasses is lying near his unmoving figure, and the man in the suit—even from behind I can see it’s Jessup Lee—has his phone out. He’s got his foot on the neck of his victim, and he’s in the midst of dialing a number in the semi-darkness. Fucking asshole. The light from his cell screen illuminates the glass that’s scattered around the man on the floor, and as I hear Jessup order a cleanup from whoever’s on the other end of the phone, I know it’s too late for the guy on the floor. The thought makes me sick, but nausea is the last fucking thing I need to worry about now.

  Shit! The steel speed rack of quick pour bottles in front of me comes away from its hinge, and nine full bottles of liquor go crashing to the floor at my feet. Two pairs of eyes – including the ones of the almost unconscious guy on the floor – look over at me, and suddenly I wonder whether barging into Lee’s club was a smart idea after all.

  This story continues in Fall so Deep, Book 2 of the Dark and Deep Series.

  Thank you for reading!

  Coming in November and December 2019 in the Dark and Deep Series

  Fall So Deep (Part 2)

  Down in Deep (Part 3)

  Hurt so Deep (Part 4)

  In Too Deep (Part 5, the conclusion)

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