Going Deep, #2

by Mia Ford

  I gave a sharp nod, but Richie wasn’t finished.

  “Hannah is a Silvestri. I don’t give a fuck how much you want in her pants or even if she wants into yours.” He pressed his face so close to mine I smelled the peppermint on his breath as he enunciated each word. “It’s never going to happen.”

  “Shouldn’t that be up to Hannah?” Sometimes I couldn’t stop myself. Words just fell out of my mouth when personal shit flew.

  Richie laughed, the kind of laugh that would make anyone hearing it want to crawl into a hole, anyone but me.

  “Hannah’s future is mapped out, and you, I’m sorry to say, are not anywhere on that map.”

  Me, I never know when to quit. I needed to push this cocksucker. I needed him to push me. All in all, this evening was working out to my advantage. Hannah seemed to be my way in because, now that I’d shown a bit of interest in his sister, Richie would make sure that never happened.

  I rocked back on my heels. “Does Hannah know about this map you’ve drawn out for her? Maybe I should tell her that her future is already pre-ordained.” I shook my head and murmured, “She probably isn’t going to be happy.”

  “Shut up,” Butch growled.

  Then it hit me. I wasn’t getting a reward, but someone thought he’d be handed one eventually. If Hannah had any idea what these two planned, she’d puke out her guts and her lungs and any other organ she could heave out.

  “I see,” I said quietly.

  “You don’t see shit,” Butch said, pushing himself away from the building. He took a step toward me, and Richie put his arm out, stopping him in his path.

  “What exactly do you see, Mr. O’Shea?” Richie asked curiously.

  “For starters, I see a big baboon who waits for any scrap you’ll hurl in his direction.”

  Butch lunged, but once again, Richie held him back with ease. A mere touch of this man’s hand could bring Butch to heel.

  “I also see a man with power...who might have made promises. Is that true, Butch? Did he make you promises?” When Richie just stared at me, I decided no one was going to join in, so I just kept going. “Easy to keep a dog on a leash, doing your bidding, when you have a big juicy bone waiting at the end of the day. You’re waiting, aren’t you, Butch? Waiting for that day when a pretty little bartender just falls into your lap and becomes yours?”

  “I am going to cut off your cock,” Butch said.

  I shrugged. “I think Hannah might have something to say about that. She doesn’t seem the kind of woman who just takes orders about who gets to dip his wick into her honey. I think Hannah has...standards.”

  “You’re a dead man,” Butch said.

  “He’s definitely an interesting one,” Richie said. That anger still simmered beneath the surface—probably always did—but I’d caught Richie’s attention now. I was more than just an out-of-work drifter trying to get to the next town. “I think you and I should have a sit-down, O’Shea. Maybe you have too much talent to be stuck in Hannah’s little day camp.”

  The way he said made me want to hang a fist right into his gut and just pound away until his guts poured out of his ass. But that wouldn’t get me into the inner circle, which is exactly where I needed to be.

  “Am I right?” Richie asked. “Are you so bored you have to worry about a couple of stray grabs here and there? So tightly wound you feel the need to pound the face of my most stalwart soldier against my bar?”

  I shrugged.

  “I like your style, O’Shea. I’m not happy with your choice of punching bags, but we’ll let that slide for the time being.”

  “Like hell we will,” Butch growled.

  “I said,” Richie ground out, “we’ll let that slide for the time being.”

  I had him right where I wanted him, but my time had run out.

  Richie drew in a breath and huffed it out. “I have business to attend to.”

  I followed his gaze to a couple of low-life scum coming around the corner. I recognized them. I’d studied this section of town and all its denizens for weeks before I hooked up with Archie Dee. These two were dealers who handled distribution a few neighborhoods over, not nickel and dime crap, but higher volumes. I doubted Richie had drugs on the premises, but deals were definitely going down. I needed on this shift.

  The dealers pushed open the door to the club and vanished, leaving behind a wave of pulsing rhythm.

  “So, Richie, about my shift.” I’d opened the door. All he had to do was walk through.

  “Finish up tomorrow on days. Next week, show up at eight. Steve will get you set up and show you the ropes.”

  “Sure you’re up for it?” Butch asked, narrowing his eyes.

  “I took your ass down for the count, didn’t I?”

  He didn’t move, but his fists clenched. So score one for me.

  “The pissing contest ends here,” Richie said. “Need I say more?”

  “Nope. Got it,” I said.

  “Butch?” Richie kept his eyes on me.

  “Got it.”

  “Get out of my face, O’Shea. Don’t make me regret this.”

  I turned and headed to my car.

  Chapter Four: Richie

  “You know the rule. No money, no product.” I flung open my desk drawer, pulled out the ledger, and flipped through the pages. “You’re still on the books for thirty-two-grand.” I snapped the book closed and stared at Dickie and Carlos. “So, where is it?”

  Carlos shot a glance at Dickie. Dickie got real interested in the snot residue on his finger.

  “Horace said next week, boss,” Carlos said. “Ran into some trouble and had to bail out a couple of runners.”

  “How is that my problem?” I asked. “Does he want me to wipe his ass too? I don’t deal on consignment. I want my goddamn money.”

  “We’ll get it,” Carlos said and swallowed hard. “Next week.”

  I leaned back in my chair. “And you want me to front you the coke before I get the money for the last batch. Is that it?”

  Dickie nodded, but Carlos seemed to get the picture a bit clearer. He took a couple of steps away from the desk. Wise man because, before Dickie could move a muscle, I grabbed the Glock from my drawer, lunged across the desk, and whipped it across Dickie’s cheek.

  A scream exploded as Dickie stumbled back and a stream of blood splattered across my desk. Carlos drew in a horrified gasp and stared as Dickie lost his balance and fell on his scrawny ass. Tears broke and streamed down Dickie’s face as he cupped his split cheek with his hand and more blood seeped through his fingers.

  “Carlos, you have one minute to get him out of this fucking office,” I said. “When I’m done counting, if you’re still here, I’m coming after you too.”

  Carlos dropped to his knees and gathered Dickie against him. He shifted clumsily to his feet and half dragged a sniffling Dickie toward the door. Butch opened it.

  “Carlos.”

  Carlos turned slowly to look at me. “Boss?”

  “You have until Tuesday. After Tuesday, that split cheek is going to look like a love tap.” Carlos nodded. “Fifty-six, fifty-seven...”

  Carlos bolted out the door, dragging Dickie by the throat. Butch closed the door.

  “What the fuck is wrong with these people? Do I look like a loan officer?”

  Butch chuckled.

  “Get a rag and get this mess cleaned up. God knows what kind of diseases that worthless shit has.”

  Butch got a rag and spray bottle from the closet and cleaned up the blood splatter.

  I poured myself drink and decided to pour one for Butch. He settled in the seat opposite me and downed it in one swallow.

  “You do know that’s Macallan?” I asked.

  Butch looked at his empty glass. “Whatever it is, it’s good.” He held out the empty glass.

  I threw my head back against the chair. Why did I even try? I poured him another one. “Savor it, Butch. It’s three hundred dollars a bottle.”

  Butch stared at the am
ber in the glass then swished it around. “It all tastes the same to me.”

  Fuck it. I tossed the contents of my glass in a gulp and poured myself another one too. “So what’s going on between Hannah and O’Shea?”

  Wrong question. Butch’s nostrils flared, and his eyes blazed, the red rims making them appear demonic.

  “How the fuck would I know? I’m running all over this town doing your business.” He leapt to his feet and started pacing erratically around the room, throwing his arms up, his voice rising with each word. “I can’t keep my eyes on her every damn minute of every damn day. For all I know he’s banging her behind the bar the entire time I’m gone. Maybe she’s giving him blowjobs in the back room. Maybe they’re fucking in the back alley. Maybe he’s reading her goddamn sonnets and massaging her in baby oil. Jesus, Richie, I don’t know. It’s driving me insane, and there’s not a goddamn thing I can do about because”—he slammed his hands on my desk and leaned forward—“I’m your fucking errand boy.”

  I took a sip of my drink. “Are you finished?”

  “Yeah.” He slumped back into the chair and heaved a sigh. “Motherfucker.”

  “So, basically, you don’t like him. Is that it?”

  Butch’s eyes bugged out of his head. “Is that all you got from that?” He ran a hand over his bald head. “Jesus.”

  He was so easy to toy with. Such fun.

  “What do you really think is happening?”

  “Probably nothing,” Butch muttered. “Yet.”

  “Do you think she’s interested in him?”

  Butch nodded miserably.

  I straightened up in my chair and slapped my hands on the desk. “Well, we can’t have that. Doesn’t work for any of my plans.” I’d been feeling Hannah slipping from my grasp lately. Something wasn’t adding up. She usually just did her job, had her dinner, and went upstairs to...

  I had no real idea what she did up there. She’d always had an attitude and got too mouthy for her own good, but lately it had seemed more than that. I saw a spark she’d never had before.

  She’d actually brought her little ass down into my domain, after hours, just last week. I couldn’t have her snooping around my real business. The club was supposed to keep her occupied, give her some spending money and possibly a bit of self-worth. I let her boss around a couple of employees and treat her customers like pets and she was supposed to be grateful. Something had changed, though I couldn’t put my finger on it.

  I couldn’t let her think she could find that self-worth anywhere but through my generosity. I certainly wasn’t going to let her cozy up to some drifter who might be more than that. I hadn’t decided yet how far to trust O’Shea, but I’d put him to the test soon enough.

  “Has Hannah ever punched you before when you touched her?”

  Butch cut a glance toward the wall.

  “Jesus, Butch, don’t deny you’ve touched her. I know how you feel about her. Has she ever slapped you before when you touched her?”

  “No, she usually just brushes me away and finds something else to do.”

  “And today she hit you like a prize fighter. You don’t think that’s odd?”

  Butch furrowed his brow. “Yeah, I guess so.

  “She’s changing, Butch. Right under my nose. Maybe I’ve been too busy, maybe I’ve let too much out on the reins, maybe she thinks she actually has some freedom. Not sure, but she needs an attitude adjustment.”

  “Like how?” Butch said.

  “I’m not sure yet because I don’t know the reason for her sudden defiance or her late-night excursions.”

  Butch gave me a puzzled look.

  “The night you saw her in the hallway.”

  That dense look just got more puzzled.

  I scrubbed my hands over my face. “In her bathrobe.”

  “Oh right. Yeah. That was strange.”

  “Strange enough,” I said, “to warrant investigation. I want you to get Archie to check out her apartment. See if he finds anything unusual.”

  “Like what?”

  “If I knew that,” I snapped, “I wouldn’t want him to check it out. Tell him to look for letters, papers, check her computer, look through her books, check her calendars, ransack her drawers and cupboards. I don’t know. Something has changed her lately.”

  “She has new locks, boss. She changes them like every month.”

  “Huh. See what I mean?”

  Butch nodded, but he didn’t have a clue what I was talking about.

  “I can handle that. You get up on the fire escape tonight and break that AC unit.” Butch opened his mouth. “Don’t ask me how. Do I look like a fucking HVAC tech? You figure it out, but do it quietly.” I pulled a pad from my desk drawer. “I’ll leave a work order here, and tomorrow you have Carmen go fix it when Hannah complains.”

  Butch opened his mouth, but I put up my hand.

  “Believe me, she’ll complain. When he comes back down, tell him to give you the keys. You book down to the hardware store and make a set.”

  “Carmen won’t like that.”

  “Carmen can’t support five kids from El Salvador. You tell him they’re my orders, and he’ll do what he’s told. Call Archie tonight and set things up. Now get out of here. I need to think.”

  Butch rose from his chair.

  “Have him look everywhere in that fucking room. I mean everywhere. But he needs to put things back the way he found them. I can’t have her knowing we’ve been there. She’s my goddamn sister, and she thinks she has privacy.”

  “Sure, boss.”

  “And get some ice on that nose. You look like crayons melted all over your face.”

  When the door closed behind him, I thought about Danny O’Shea. Once I knew what Hannah might be hiding, and I had her back in control, I’d figure out what O’Shea meant to my life.

  An asset or danger?

  I hadn’t decided yet, but I could deal with either one.

  Both could be good for business.

  Chapter Five: Danny

  Hannah had been sending me glances all day, the kinds of glances that made a man think of things other than work, other than taking an actual breath.

  Surrounded by pussy all day long, willing pussy at that, and all I could think about was the dark-haired beauty behind the bar, so near, yet so far. She might as well have been Rapunzel in that tower, dark instead of blonde, a dusky princess waiting to start her life, waiting for her savior.

  That man could be me, but I couldn’t reach her unless she opened up that magical pass-through on the bar and let me inside.

  I’d gotten used to her watching me surreptitiously. Today, though, those stares were more overt, as though something brewed in that mysterious mind of hers and I had taken a prime spot in her thoughts. I didn’t mind it, but it did spark fantasies and make my cock think something might actually happen. We were both going to be so disappointed if those fantasies turned out to be a bust.

  Charity noticed the extra glances. At one point in the afternoon she made a point of snagging my attention and drawing me to one of the tables as she bussed it.

  “You need to stop what you’re doing,” Charity said, glancing toward the bar. “Whatever it is.”

  I shook my head. “There’s nothing going on.”

  “Sure,” Charity said, dropping several bottles into the tub. “You keep saying that, Danny, and maybe someone will believe it. Me, I see the looks, and I’m just saying if you want to stay healthy, you’ll leave it alone.”

  “You mean Hannah,” I said.

  “Yes, I mean Hannah,” she whispered furiously. “Richie decides who Hannah sees. He steers men in her direction, and she chooses.”

  “Does Hannah know that?”

  “I don’t know what Hannah knows. I just know Richie decides what he wants for his little sister, and he doesn’t want you.”

  “Hannah can make her own choices,” I pointed out.

  She narrowed her eyes. “That’s where you’re wrong, Danny, an
d if you keep this up, you’re going to find out just how wrong you are.” She put her hand on mine. “Come on, Danny, be smart. We don’t want to lose you around here.”

  “You’re not going to lose me.”

  “If you don’t stop looking at her like that, we will.” She grabbed her tub and vanished toward the kitchen.

  Richie had already warned me away from Hannah, but for some reason, now that Charity had made my survival her mission, that warning took on another proportion. I could have written off her concern to jealousy since I’d chosen Hannah over her, but I thought it was more than. She seemed to like Hannah, and she seemed to like me, and Charity was an okay girl.

  Carmen was okay too. He had come in and out of the bar a few times, showing Hannah paperwork, gathering keys. Carmen was a good guy, and obviously Hannah liked him. She spoke to him with kindness, and when she offered him a soft drink, he gratefully sank onto a stool and drank it slowly. Something about the guy seemed down today, though I guess when you’re a handyman trapped working for a guy like Richie, it gave you plenty to be down about. Still, seeing a sober man slumped over the bar with his head hanging like a doomed man’s cast a pall over the place, despite the cranked-up music and catcalls.

  Six o’clock rolled around, and Steve sauntered into the place to the dangerous rhythm of “Bad to the Bone,” the chain on his wallet swinging and his Mohawk swaying with each step. That song suited him to a T, and I almost laughed, but something about the comparison made me a bit queasy.

  Time for a mental switch. Easy, casual went out the window as I pulled my head away from its fantasies of an Italian princess spread on luxurious sheets, waiting for me to make her wildest dreams come true. I pulled out the tough bouncer, ready to ward off problems.

  Hannah spoke to Steve for a few minutes, which was their usual routine. Hannah usually made sure most of the regulars’ tabs were paid when she left, but inevitably there were a few holdovers, most often out-of-towners who’d just arrived and planned to stay for the nighttime vibe. So there was always a bit unfinished business to be discussed between shifts. She grabbed her purse and keys and stood there for a few minutes with her head down, her tits rising and falling as she seemingly trying to gather courage for something. Curious, I couldn’t take my eyes off her. She looked ambivalent, a look I’d never seen on Hannah before.