Dark Secrets (Dark #2)

by Jessica Gadziala

  She would soon find that she had never been more wrong about something before.

  TWO

  Faith

  It was actually irritating how good he was at his job.

  Faith stood back against the back bar, eyes small, watching him walk around like he was raised behind a bar. It wasn't just the fact that he knew how to mix everything from a Bloody Mary to an Old Fashioned or that he could mix and pour candy-flavored and colored shots with all the flourish of a tenured gay bar mixer, much to the delight of a couple of the mob wives who happened in to check out the fresh meat.

  It was the ease with which he did it all. He didn't get tense or short with her when they were in the weeds for an hour, the bar three people deep and everyone used to getting served within minutes. He sliced fruit in his spare time and she didn't need to ask him to fill the cranberry or orange juices when she used the last of it mixing some drinks for a couple of pretty tourists she was keeping an eye on in the corner of the bar. Not because she was worried they'd skip on their tab, seeing as she had their card in the system, but because out of town girls were prime choices for any predators looking for easy prey. They didn't know their way around and they didn't know how shady a lot of men in the City were.

  Sad, but true. And Faith tried to look out for her fellow sisters whenever she could. She couldn't change what might happen if they walked out the doors and got picked up by one of the guys in the bar, but she could at least make sure no one harassed them while they were just trying to have a good time.

  "He's not going to drag them out of here caveman style," Danny said, coming up beside her and watching them too.

  "You never know."

  "If you think he's anything other than a cocky ex-highschool letterman wearer, then you're a poor judge of character."

  "Some monsters wear letterman jackets," she said with a shrug.

  "The redhead isn't into guys and she looks like she's ready to put a boot in his ass if he touches the friend she's obviously in love with one more time."

  Faith's head tilted, looking at the women with his version of the story and more than mildly annoyed when she saw things to indicate he was right.

  "Damn," she said when the redhead stood up and moved between her friend and the guy, crossing her arms, and raising her voice until the guy backed off.

  "So, what?" Danny asked. "You're some guard dog to all the girls in here?"

  "Shouldn't that be part of our jobs? To make sure nothing gets out of hand here?"

  "Should, but usually isn't," he said,

  She remembered then how livid she had been at the bartender lacing the drinks. "How'd you know the redhead was into the blonde?"

  "Please," he snorted, shaking his head. "Anytime the blonde looked away, she looked at her like she fucking hung the moon."

  "That's, ah, kind of sappy there, Danny-boy," she said, trying to lighten the mood because she maybe liked it too much that he was able to notice such a thing in a woman's eyes.

  "Not a fuckuva lot of good in the world, sweetheart," he said easily, shrugging. "Be a real shame to not see the bits and pieces of it like that."

  With that, he moved off toward the kitchen to get more rocks glasses out of the washing station.

  "Oh, Faith, honey," Eleanor, one of Vin's associate's wives, a tall, leggy, fake-breasted brunette with too heavy eye makeup for a Wednesday night started, "how do you stand it?"

  "Stand it?" she repeated, moving to pour her another vodka martini, knowing she wasn't the type to stop until she had a good buzz going.

  "Working side by side that man candy," she explained, fanning her face with the drink menu. "I would melt. Have to wring out my panties on my break."

  Faith snorted. "El, he's not that good looking."

  "Oh, honey... yes, he is. And even if he wasn't, that attitude. And those pet names. If I didn't love Bennie like I do..." she trailed off, wiggling her brows.

  She didn't so much love Bennie as she loved his bank account. And while Faith generally didn't like the idea of leaning on a man for, well, anything at all, she figured there was some begrudging respect she had to give a woman who saw what she wanted and fucked a man she truly found disgusting to get that.

  "He's cocky."

  "The best men are," she said with a smile as Faith saw Danny make his way back behind the bar, hip-checking her so he could slip the juices back into the speed rack. "Danny," she went on, giving him a cougar smile, the kind that said she was predator and he was prey and she was famished.

  "Yeah, sweetheart?" he asked, the endearment obviously a knee-jerk one.

  "We were just talking about you."

  "Oh yeah?" he asked, angling his head to look at faith from his half-bent position, cocky smile in place. "And what was the lovely Faith saying about me?"

  "That you're cocky," Eleanor said easily. "And that you're not that good looking. To which I obviously disagreed."

  "Not that good looking, huh?" he asked, picking up on the fact that she had obviously agreed that he was at least somewhat good looking. "I'll take that. So, Eleanor," he said, surprising Faith with his name-recalling skills on his first night, "what do you think of Faith here?"

  Eleanor pressed her lips together. "I think she needs a man in her life," she said, making Faith's heckles rise.

  She didn't and had never needed a man in her life. Enjoyed one? Welcomed one? Sure. But she never needed a man for anything. She took care of her damn self and it bothered her to even imagine that anyone would disagree with her. Nothing about her implied that she couldn't take care of herself financially, physically, or emotionally. Hell, even sexually. She had battery-operated devices that could do the job in a dry spell.

  "Need might be a strong word," Danny surprised her by saying.

  "She's wound like a clock," Eleanor insisted.

  Danny straightened, looking Faith up and down. "Maybe you mistake strong for sexually frustrated. I think Faith here can get all the sex she wants if she wants it. Though," he said, leaning on the bar toward Eleanor, "between me and you, maybe she might do herself a favor by wanting it soon."

  "Oh, you bastard," Faith said, lifting her chin, immediately forgetting that he had defended her at all.

  But it was just that moment that Anthony decided to step up to the side of the bar near the opening.

  "I think not," she called, turning her head ever-so slightly to raise her brow at him.

  Anthony D'Onofrio had the good looks of his father, minus twenty years, but unfortunately, not an ounce of his charm or morality. He and Faith had been oil and water from her first day.

  "Think you forget who owns this place, Faith," Anthony hissed as he moved to step into the back.

  "Your father," she said, moving to try to block his way, "owns this bar. And, incidentally, he doesn't want you back here."

  "If you'd quit filling his head with your bullshit fucking exaggerated stories about what I do back here," he said, reaching to put his hand on her shoulder.

  "Would think twice about that if I were you, man," Danny said, surprising her, his voice coming from right behind her shoulder.

  She had an almost overwhelming urge to angle her head up and look at him, but her training taught her to keep her eyes on potential threats, not to the people who might try to step in and help.

  "Don't know who the fuck you are, man, but mind your own goddamn business."

  "Some drunk trying to put a hand on a woman in the bar I work at is my goddamn business and I really suggest you don't test me right now."

  "Please," Anthony said with an eye roll, reaching to pull his suit jacket open, showing the gun tucked into his waistband.

  Guns didn't have any effect on Faith. First, because she knew enough about guns to not be afraid of them. Second, because every damn man in the family came in carrying. That was just how it was. It wasn't exactly unheard of for them to flash them around if there seemed to be any trouble either.

  Danny, though, didn't seem phased either, surprising her
.

  He pressed into the small space, slightly moving her behind him, an action she found completely unnecessary, but admirable and sweet.

  "Is that supposed to scare me off?" Danny asked, angling his head to the side, not a tense muscle in his body.

  It happened fast and Faith was not in the position to make a move to stop it, being angled half-behind Danny.

  Anthony reached for the gun, cocked, and raised it.

  But then it happened, just as quickly, so quickly that if she didn't know the move intimately, she might have missed it.

  Danny's right hand went across his body, grabbing the barrel of the gun and shoved it to the side and down as his left hand rose and grabbed Anthony around the Adam's apple, fingers digging in until Anthony let out a choking noise.

  Sometime between when the gun was produced and Anthony starting to gasp, a couple screams erupted from the women who were obviously not regulars, some sighs came from the ones who were, like Eleanor, and Vin's chair made a scraping sound as he moved to stand, buttoning his jacket like the gentleman he liked to present himself to be.

  "Ease up," Faith said, though inwardly really enjoying seeing the scumbag in pain. "We can put our hands on him, but I think Vin draws the line at killing him.

  "Shame," Danny said, wrenching the gun from his hand as he released his throat so he could pull the bullets out, dropping them into his pocket before handing the gun back to a very red, very angry Anthony.

  "Those were some fast moves," Vin said, walking up, everything about him casual. "I like a man in my bar who can handle himself."

  "Worked in bars in Camden and Asbury Park. Have had to disarm more than a handful of drunk assholes," Danny said, again relaxed.

  There wasn't a hint of adrenaline or testosterone in his stance. He was calm, way too calm. Most people, even people who had had guns pointed at them many times, would be anxious after, worked up. There was none of that.

  She wasn't sure if she trusted that.

  "She won't say it either, but Faith likes the fast footwork. She didn't have to do it for herself for once."

  "I'm sure Faith can handle herself," he said, giving her a wink over his shoulder that she would normally find cheesy, but on him, found it almost charming. "But I always like to deescalate a situation whenever possible."

  "What's the verdict, Faith?" Vin asked, nodding toward Danny.

  "He's made it through the first night," she allowed, not wanting to let on that she found herself maybe a bit too impressed by him. "But they almost always do."

  Danny put a hand to his heart like he was wounded, but just smiled at her.

  "The fact that she hasn't screamed at you for incompetence yet says a lot," Vin said. "Anthony, nurse your wounds and ego somewhere else," he said, waving a careless hand at a son who was an obvious disappointment to him.

  "This isn't over," Anthony said under his breath as Vin walked away. "I'm gonna find you outside of here."

  "Let me help you out," Danny said, shrugging. "I will be out in that back alley around... three-thirty after we close up here. You want to have this out, we can do it then. If not, that's fine too. But let me tell you, I catch you putting a hand on Faith or any other woman in front of me again, you'll be eating through a tube for the rest of your life."

  Faith was pretty sure she heard Anthony say something about him being a 'dead man' on the way toward the back of the building where he punched the door to the kitchen open, no doubt to go spread his misery to the back of the house staff. The poor guys. Luckily, at least half didn't speak English. And Anthony didn't speak Spanish so he didn't know how they were making fun of him right to his face.

  "He put his hands on you a lot?" Danny asked as he nodded at a customer who ordered a Manhattan.

  "Not unless he wants to risk broken bones. Which, on occasion, he does."

  "Faith teaches Ju Jitsu," Eleanor offered, drawing Danny's attention.

  "Krav Maga," Faith corrected. "I teach Krav Maga, Eleanor."

  "Right. Sure. Whatever. They're all the same."

  They weren't. Not in the least. There was a huge difference between Brazilian Ju Jitsu and Israeli special forces training, something she knew Danny knew all about because that move he pulled with Anthony, yeah, that was straight out of the Krav Maga playbook. She couldn't help but wonder how and where he learned that.

  "That would be like saying ballroom dancing and club dancing are the same thing," he surprised her by saying.

  "Do you do martial arts, Danny?" Eleanor asked, leaning half over the bar so that her boobs spilled out of the top of her dress.

  "I've taken some classes," he shrugged it off.

  Faith's eyes got small as she looked at his profile. He moved way too quickly, way too confidently for someone who just took 'some classes'. Why he would play that down was beyond her.

  The man was an anomaly.

  And she hated not having someone's number.

  That was her thing- she was good at reading people.

  If he was going to be working there, then it was her new mission to make sure she figured him out.

  "I'm sorry, man, but you can't be driving," Danny's voice said, drawing her attention a few hours later. It wasn't what he said that made her stop stacking dirty glasses. It was the apologetic way he said it.

  "Who the fuck do you think you are, new guy?" Burt, a regular, a drunk, and a nasty one at that, demanded, slamming his beer glass down on the counter so loud she was going to toss it just in case it splintered somewhere.

  "This would be Danny and Danny gets to take your keys if you are shitfaced," she explained, reaching for the glass and tossing it.

  "Faith, I don't know how many..."

  "You've had eight beers, Burt. And don't think I don't know about the two shots either. You're not driving and if you give him any problems, you know what I am going to do with the keys..." she trailed off, making Burt stiffen.

  "You're a real bitch, you know that, Faith?"

  "Oh, I know it," she called to his retreating form.

  When she turned back to Danny, he was smirking, waving the keys in front of her face. "What'd you do to his keys to make him call you a bitch?"

  Faith smiled, taking the keys from him and tossing them into a bowl on the back bar where they always kept them. "I threw them down the storm drain out front."

  "You're serious?" he asked, sounding completely floored by the idea.

  "Yep. I don't like having assholes threaten me. That week, I was under strict orders to not put my hands on another customer. So you gotta do what you gotta do."

  "How many customers did you put your hands on to get that kind of warning?"

  "That week?" she asked, capping the bottles on the back bar. "There was a bachelor party. Eighteen drunk and disrespectful men. They were lucky only four ended up with something broken or bloody."

  "How the fuck do you keep this job?" he asked as he shouldered her out of the way so he could do the heavy lifting, bringing the three trays of dirty glasses into the kitchen.

  "Vin and I... we have an agreement," she said cryptically as she took off toward the office in the back to do the bar tally and order more booze.

  It wasn't exactly an agreement.

  Agreements are generally gotten to amicably.

  There wasn't much amicable about how she got and kept a job at Lam and held a small bit of control over a man as feared as Vin D'Onofrio.

  But that was none of his damn business.

  THREE

  Danny

  What kind of woman had an arrangement with a big time mob leader that gave her free reign to do whatever the hell she wanted in his bar?

  Vin was a lot of things, not the least of which being a smart business owner. Hell, even naming the place Lam, meaning 'on the lam', a clearcut middle finger in the face of the law enforcement that could never pin a damn thing on him, was smart. People liked it. It was different, it suggested a hint of danger without anyone actually having to involve themselves in any sc
ary situations.

  And since the day he opened the place, it had done nothing but exceed everyone's expectations.

  Why then would he put a woman behind the bar, the face of his bar, who cursed at, hit, threatened, and had a general disdain for most of his customers?

  Granted, what a fucking face she had.

  She was the kind of gorgeous that didn't hit you all at once. You noticed her right off- given that she didn't exactly cover her body and she had a great one- all hips and ass and tits. Then maybe the next thing you'd take in was the hair. There was a fuckuva lot of it, almost to her ass, shiny, dark dark brown, soft-looking, swinging around as an 'eff you' to health codes.

  But that was all the window dressing, catching your attention, and drawing it away from what was actually the sexiest part about her- her face.

  She was striking. That was the best way he could think to phrase it. If you actually focused on her features, it felt like a gut punch. She had a feminine face with high cheekbones, a sweet mouth, a strong forehead, a straight nose, and almond-shaped brown eyes. Somehow, the longer you looked, the more breathtaking she became.

  That being said, she might have had the face of a goddamn goddess, but she had the personality of the leader of an invading force. She was strong, confident, outspoken, no-holds-barred, and almost scarily observant.

  She didn't flirt with the men though that was a surefire way to increase your tips tenfold in the service industry. She didn't shy away from their compliments, but she didn't play into them either. Over the course of a grueling ten-hour shift, he had heard at least a dozen men who were obviously regulars call her every pet name in the book, compliment everything from her boots to the small heart-shaped birth mark on her neck. At least two of those men demanded to know when she would accept their marriage proposals.

  She informed one of the aforementioned men that she was waiting for his new invention to go big, then she would marry him, kill him on the honeymoon, and take every last penny.