by Bonnie Dee
“Nice ambiance,” I said. “I think we could promote this as urban chic.”
Dale stood, hands on skinny hips, looking around. “This’ll do.”
“You’re nuts. What are you thinking?”
He turned and looked at me. His nearly chinless, weasel face tended to make people think he wasn’t bright. They’d be dead wrong. The wheels in Croft’s head never stopped turning.
“Not for the fights, idiot. I got something else in the works, and I’m going to need your help with it.”
“What?” I asked uneasily. Anything that might go down in a place like this couldn’t be good.
“I know a guy,” Dale began.
In my experience, nothing that starts with those words ever ends well. In my life, I’d known lots of guys and gotten involved in lots of shit, stuff that made those cage matches seem tame. I wasn’t eager to swing back in that direction. Everything about my business was legal—more or less—and I wanted to keep it that way, keep my life uncomplicated for a change.
“This’ll be the easiest gig. No expenditure, and the returns will be phenomenal. You could invest in a chain of bars with it, sit back, and watch more money roll in.”
I’ll admit I’m a greedy bastard, and a large part of me wanted to hear more. Since Dale was going to make me listen anyhow, I nodded. “Go on.”
“All we have to do is be a gateway. Help unload the incoming shipments and hold them here until it’s time to move them out.”
“What sort of shipments? Drugs, guns, foreign sex slaves?”
Dale shook his head and swiped a hand across the bald patch in the midst of the long hair he grew to make up for the lack on top. “We’re being paid not to ask that question.”
I blew out a long breath and started to count to ten. I only made it to four before I burst out, “Are you crazy? You want me to, what, go in with you on buying this…this property and use it for smuggling?”
Dale held up his palms. “That’s the best part. We don’t have to buy anything. Last thing I want is my name on a lease again if something happens. I’ve found the perfect location. The guy who actually owns this building is gone, as in he’s never going to come back yet he hasn’t been officially declared dead. The taxes continue to be paid regularly as part of his business holdings, for now, at least.”
How did Dale find out stuff like that? He had more information streams than a hydra had heads. I crossed my arms and toed at a syringe on the cement floor—a fucking syringe. “So, who’s the…client we’d be working for? And if this place is abandoned, why couldn’t he simply use it without a middle man?”
“Well, that’s the tricky part. I’ve suggested the location belongs to me and said I was eager to go into business with… I don’t want to name the individual.”
“Will it summon him?” I asked dryly. “Go on. You’ve dragged me in this far.”
Dale lowered his voice as if there were secret spies hiding in the shadows. “Kaspar Abakumov.”
I blinked. The name meant nothing to me. I wasn’t exactly familiar with the Chicago underworld. But I knew a Slavic-sounding name when I heard one. “Are you fucking kidding me right now?” I exploded. “You want to get involved with Russians? Why not just chop your hands off and mail them to yourself right now and get it over with?”
“Relax. You’ve seen too many movies. These guys aren’t that violent. Besides, we’re not going to do anything to piss them off. They’ll let me know the time of the shipment. We’ll be here to help unload, sit on it a few days and then send it off again. Simple. Easy. Lucrative. We do it a few times and then we’re out.
“Asshole! Once you’re in with people like this, they’ll never let you out again. No way, no how. You’re not sucking me into this with you.”
Dale squinched his face in a frown. “Well, that’s kind of a problem. I already mentioned your name to my guy. I sold us as partners, told him you were on board.”
I kicked the syringe across the room, where it hit the wall with a ping, then I lunged at Dale, grabbed the front of his shirt and shook him. “Why? Why would you do that?”
“’Cause I need your help. I can’t do this alone. And you owe me.” He glared into my eyes through thick lenses. “I did time for you.”
“You did fucking community service scrubbing graffiti. And I paid the bribes, so I think we’re even on that bust.”
I recognized the stubborn look in his eyes. Dale tended to take hold of a thing and shake it like a pit bull. Sometimes that was an advantage, but not right now. I had to convince him.
I let go of the wad of his shirt I’d grabbed on to and smoothed it over his chest. “We’re small time, Dale. Trust me, we don’t want to dive into deep water like this. It won’t end well. Do what you have to, say whatever, but get us out of it before it’s too late. Please.”
His jaw clenched, and he moved away from my touch.
“Please,” I repeated. “You want to try some other scheme I’ll listen to your proposal. But you’ve got to let go of this one.”
Dale waved a hand. “Fine. Whatever. I’ll handle it.”
Which wasn’t the same as saying he’d drop it, but I’d take the win.
I turned to leave. “Buy you a drink?”
He shrugged. “Naw. I got people to talk to.”
“Catch you later, then.”
I left the creepy warehouse in the foul neighborhood, grateful to find my car still had tires on it. I drove back to The Raptor’s Roost and my apartment above the bar, replaying the weird evening—the pathetic demented old lady and my equally nuts business partner and the gorgeous girl who’d clung to me and kissed me with an intensity that knocked me off-center.
Gina Torrio was something special. Definitely worth another look-see.
And then I realized I’d neglected to get her phone number. Again.
She hadn’t offered it and I hadn’t asked for it, and maybe it was better that way. Best not to get involved with a chick who challenged me and unsettled me more than I liked.
There was plenty of low-hanging fruit on the vine to choose from, plenty of women who drifted in and out of my bar and my bed. I’d settle for one of them and probably be a lot happier in the long run.
Chapter Five
Gina
A caregiving job like mine is demanding in many ways, but it doesn’t take a lot of thought to do it—which meant way too much of my brain was free to dwell on Micah Wyatt over the next few days. As I bathed Mrs. Heidelberg or coaxed her to take her meds or tried to calm her down when she grew anxious, a large portion of my mind replayed that evening with Micah.
He’d saved my ass by finding Sonia in the store and treated her with a courtliness that surprised and touched me, making me think maybe I’d judged him too harshly. Sure, he was a flirt and rarely serious, but perhaps he wasn’t so bad—illegal cage fights aside.
One thing I knew beyond a doubt, his kisses were unforgettable, and the memory of them made my panties wet. His hands gripping my ass, his bulge pressed firmly against my crotch, his hard muscles beneath my hands and his soft mouth teasing mine until I lost all sense were only the beginning. From there, my fantasies wandered off in all sorts of interesting directions.
I played out a scenario in which he’d taken me right there in the bathroom, bent over the sink and gripping the counter hard as my body shook. And I indulged in a darker one where I demanded he leave but he refused, forcing me to go down on him as he sat on Mrs. Heidelberg’s floral sofa. That dark and thrilling daydream dissolved into a much more romantic dream of cuddling and kissing, sweet words and gentle caresses that left me all soft and smooshy inside.
Such fantasies were great to while away the time but ultimately meant nothing. I wasn’t going to try to see Micah again, and he didn’t have my number, so he wouldn’t be trying to contact me either.
A couple of days later, I met with Leah for a coffee date during my off-hours. We hadn’t seen each other as often since I’d started my new situation and sh
e was busy at the radio station, but we still texted a lot and whenever we had a chance, we met up. Today it was at the usual shop around the corner from her apartment.
Leah’s wide blue eyes in that sweet heart-shaped face gazed through me into whatever shade of darkness she saw. We greeted each other with a hug and caught up as we waited in line to place our order.
“You still like your job?” I asked.
“I still love my job. The cataloguing and office work part gets dull, but the on-air hours are fantastic.”
“I’ve heard your show a couple of times, but I have to admit I’m usually asleep then.” Leah’s boss had given her a chance to prove herself as a DJ in the dead hours between three and five a.m. A short stint, but a chance for her to practice and, since she was an intern, free for the station.
She laughed. “Most people are. I’ve gotten some really odd calls mixed in with the requests. A couple made me feel like I’m running a help line.”
We placed our coffee orders and found a seat before she continued. “How about you? Getting along all right with your new client?”
“She’s a sweetheart. Serious dementia, so it’s not easy, but during her good spells, she’s amazing to talk to. A living history lesson.” I sipped my cinnamon latte and considered addressing what I really wanted to talk about, but I wasn’t quite willing to get into the subject of Micah. “How are things with J.D.?”
She didn’t answer at first, just smiled a wide, beautiful smile.
“That good, huh?”
Leah dipped her face as if to hide her joy. “Am I that obvious?”
“A little. I’m glad you two are so happy. You went through a lot to get there.”
She tapped her fingers against her coffee cup. “I took him to my cousin Grace’s wedding last weekend.”
“How did that go?”
“Things are still kind of strained with my parents, but we weren’t sitting at their table, so it was all right. He got to meet some of my cousins and aunts and uncles and didn’t seem too overwhelmed by them all.” She grimaced. “There are a lot of them, and J.D. isn’t used to big families.”
Or functional ones, I thought, recalling the Wyatt brothers’ story.
“Plus my cousin Drake and his girlfriend who we sat next to are really pretentious and annoying.”
“Every family has its quirks and crazy characters,” I agreed. “My Aunt Stasia used to live in a commune. She still dresses like 1965 and refuses to shave her legs and armpits or use deodorant.”
Leah smiled again. “That must be pleasant to be around. Overall the reception was fun. We danced a lot anyway. Sometimes I got tired of repeating to everyone that I’m doing okay with my sight loss, plus I think J.D. may have been a little uncomfortable at the extravagance.” She paused. “He really is from a different background.”
I nodded, remembered she couldn’t see me, and said, “But that’s not a deal breaker, right? You guys love each other.”
“Of course. I just don’t want him to ever feel like he’s not ‘good enough’ or something, and sometimes I can tell he does. Or at least I think so. I don’t know how to fix that.”
“His issue, not yours. He’ll get past it eventually,” I promised her.
Leah waved away the topic with a hand. “Enough about me. How’s your love life? Anyone new?”
It was on the tip of my tongue. I wanted to spill everything and get her input on my hookup with Micah. But I knew she’d warn me away from him. And there was no point anyhow, since I’d likely never see him again.
“Not really. I haven’t had time to date lately. When I’m not with Mrs. H, I go out with my friends in a group.”
Leah’s already wide eyes opened wider. “You should let me introduce you to my cousin Paul! He’s recently single again. He’s a really nice guy and one of my favorite relatives. He just finished his residency and recently bought a condo in the South Loop.”
“Yeah? I don’t know…” I was much more comfortable around blue-collar types than wealthy professionals. What would I have in common with rich Cousin Paul?
“Come on. I’ll text him and tell him about you. Maybe we can set up a double date so it’s not so weird for you both.” Leah was excited and on a mission. I stopped trying to argue. Besides, it might not be so bad to go out with a guy who was established for a change.
“All right. You sound him out, and if he’s interested, I’ll give it a try.”
Leah handed me her phone. “Snap a selfie for me to send along. Sorry I don’t have any photos of Paul in there from the wedding to show. Taking pictures doesn’t mean a lot to me anymore. I’m sure you can find him online if you want to know what he looks like.”
I pointed the phone at myself and snapped, feeling like something on a menu. I wasn’t a big fan of blind dates or online dating, anything where people didn’t bump into each other naturally. But maybe that was why I’d had such incredibly horrible luck with men. I didn’t hang out in the right sorts of places. Maybe a date with up-and-coming Dr. Paul was exactly what I needed.
Leah and I chatted awhile longer and worked our way through the coffee and several biscotti each.
“Can I ask you a favor?” she said as we were winding down. “It’s not a big deal if you can’t do it. I can take a cab if need be.”
“You need a ride? Sure. I can drop you wherever you need to go.”
“I want to surprise J.D. at work. I have a present for him.”
“You want to go to The Raptor’s Roost?” It was Micah’s bar where J.D. tended. If we went there, I might run into the object of my far too explicit fantasies. Dismay and excitement wrestled in my gut. I wasn’t sure which had the upper hand.
“Only if you have time. It’s out of your way, I know, so if you don’t want to…”
“No. That’s fine. I don’t have to be back at Mrs. H’s for a few more hours. I’ll take you there,” I blurted.
Decision made. I couldn’t renege on my promise. I was helping out a friend. That was all. This had absolutely nothing to do with any hope that I might happen to see Micah while we were there.
And the fact that I excused myself to go to the restroom and primp had nothing to do with it either. I leaned close to the mirror and squinted at my eyebrows, which needed a good shaping. I finger-combed my long black hair so it appeared artfully tousled as if I hadn’t spent any time on it at all. I added mascara to my already long black lashes, and freshened my lipstick, pursing my lips at my reflection.
I glanced at my T-shirt, which was nothing special, and wished I had on a more cleavage-baring tank. Then I mentally spanked myself for caring. I didn’t need to make some sort of impression on Micah—if we even happened to see each other. I was doing a favor for a friend. That was it.
After spritzing on a little perfume, I walked out of the restroom and met Leah again.
“Mm, you smell nice,” she said. “What fragrance is that?”
“Just some lotion they had in the john.” It was such a stupid thing to lie about. I could wear perfume without it being a sign I was trolling for a hot auburn-haired bar owner with amazing blue eyes.
On the way to my car, Leah talked about the business course she was taking—the one I’d sat in on with her for part of the semester when I was her aide. “I wish you were still there with me. It’s hard without you. But I’m doing okay. I should get a passing grade at least.”
“I don’t miss that class,” I said. “Not my thing at all.”
“Mine either.”
We chatted a little longer about college and jobs and hopes and dreams for the future. I nudged my way into stop-and-go traffic and managed to miss most of the jay-walking pedestrians as I drove the several miles to the Roost. It was late afternoon, rush-hour traffic, the worst time to drive in the Chicago area if you don’t have to.
But we made it there and even found a pretty decent parking spot. I stooped to check out my face in the side mirror once more before walking Leah to the bar.
My hear
t beat fast as we left the bright blue day behind and pushed into the dim cave-like tavern. The tables were mostly empty, but the stools at the bar were completely filled by blue-jean-clad asses, and work boots rested on the supports beneath, probably factory workers finished with their shifts and kicking back for a cold one before heading home.
Behind the bar, J.D. leaned on the counter, talking to a customer. He glanced up to see who had entered, and his handsome face lit up at the sight of Leah. My heart did a little clench and roll thing in my chest at the expression of pure love on his face. What would it be like to have some guy, some really nice guy, love you like that?
“There are customers sitting at the bar. J.D.’s behind it, and he just spotted us,” I described the scene for Leah. “You are one lucky woman. That man is blazing hot, but he only has eyes for you. He’s looking at you like Christmas just walked in the door. Come on.”
I guided her across the room to one of the tables since there wasn’t an empty stool at the bar. J.D. met us there, clasping Leah in his arms and kissing her long and deep enough to start a wave of hoots and clapping from the other patrons. I hated myself for it, but I was kinda jealous of how adorable they were together.
“This is a nice surprise,” he said after he’d broken off the kiss and set Leah back on her feet.
“I just wanted to be with you for a few minutes,” she explained. “I missed you too much.”
Wow. They’d been parted since, like, breakfast. I sat in my chair and looked at a beer menu to give them a little privacy. Their voices lowered as they murmured together, and I concentrated on choosing between a pale ale or a plain old name-brand light beer. Quality or low calories?
