House of Payne: Styx

by Stacy Gail

  Sydney knew the feeling. She was only halfway through her shift, and already she was wishing she could go home.

  No. Not home.

  She wished she could go to Styx.

  This was what it was to be addicted, she thought, checking her phone to see if he’d responded to the text she’d sent a mere ten seconds ago. Having spent every second with him for days on end would make any woman go nuts if she was suddenly forced to be alone. What she was experiencing was a kind of withdrawal, that was all.

  But, wow, was it ever powerful.

  Time away from him was good for her, Sydney decided, forcing herself to shift her focus from her phone to a man neck-deep in the flower arrangement section. She and Styx had made it past the hurdle of a pretend relationship and sailed right into a real one without so much as a hiccup, and that was awesome. But they were still trying to figure out how to live life as a couple, and it was early days yet. Added to that was the very real danger threading through her life. Danger had a way of jacking up the intensity level on everything that touched her, and that included Styx.

  Once things went back to normal, would things still be the same with Styx? Since she’d lusted after him long before she even knew his name, she couldn’t imagine her feelings changing for him just because the added spice of danger was no longer present.

  The question was, would Styx feel the same way?

  Once she didn’t need to be protected anymore, would he still want her to stay in his apartment? Or would he ask her to go back to her place across the street with the promise to call her at some point?

  Would he lose interest in her altogether?

  She didn’t know. She didn’t know, because she had no clue what he felt for her. All she knew was what she felt for him, and those feelings kept pushing her to believe in the dream of having a future with him.

  But was that just a dream, or could she allow herself to believe it could be her reality?

  Movement out of the corner of her eye had her glancing to the side, only to have her jaw drop.

  “Arthur?” It took all her strength not to look wildly about for an invading army of police, or worse, an attacker ready to throw more bricks at her. “What are you doing here?”

  “What? Just because I’m a guy, I can’t go grocery shopping?” All smiles, Styx’s father greeted her with his patented bearhug, and whispered, “Everything’s good, kid, so don’t look so worried. I’m just dropping in on Styx’s behalf.”

  “Styx.” A knot loosened in her chest, and she backed away enough to first glance at the phone she still held, then at him. “He sent you.”

  “Sorta. I was in the neighborhood.” He shrugged and kept pace with her when she decided the flower guy was harmless and moved on toward the magazines. “He’s been bugging Trey to come into the store to babysit you, but with all the police presence we’ve got outside, we don’t want to get the owners of the store too pissed off by flooding the interior of the store with uniforms as well. So, since I’m just an ordinary civilian, I volunteered to slip in here and make sure you were still breathing.”

  Oh, for crying out loud. “Why is Styx worried? I literally just texted him about a minute ago to ask if he likes chocolate.”

  “That’s like asking him if he likes to breathe air.”

  “That’s not my point, but I’ll take that as a yes.” Weirdly heartened by the fact that Styx was going as crazy as she was thanks to their separation, she pointed her basket toward the heart of the store. “Let’s go pick out something good enough to finish off a dinner of freshly caught bass. Though it must be said, I didn’t catch anything when Styx took me out on the lake,” she added, rounding to where the bakery was located at the store’s center. “I’d never gone fishing before. Come to find out, it’s a lot harder than it looks.”

  “Lots of new things in your life, lots of new people. Marco Polo Scorpeone, for instance.” Arthur raised a brow when she glanced up from her study of the bakery’s prepared cakes. “Seems like he’s a new edition to your life as well.”

  “So Polo did call you.” Torn between alarm and amusement, Sydney searched his expression for any signs of pissiness. “He said he was going to.”

  “What else did he say?”

  “Not much.” Then she smirked at his hard stare. “Man, I’ll bet you were hell on wheels in the interrogation room back in the day.”

  “What? I’m just making conversation.”

  “Uh-huh. And Picasso was just a dabbler.” Taking out her phone she took a pic of a standard chocolate cake with chocolate frosting, and a red velvet cake right beside it. “I met Polo at House Of Payne. I think he might know Russian, because he reacted pretty strongly when I cussed out some guy in that language.”

  “Russian, huh? So I take it you met Max, as well?”

  She blinked. Now she was impressed. “You know all of Styx’s coworkers?”

  “Just the ones who’ve flirted with the law. Look out for Max, because he’s crazy. Look out for Loki, because he likes dangerous people and loves doing dangerous things. You’ve got enough danger in your life, which is why I wanted to talk to you about Polo Scorpeone.”

  “Talk away.” For fun, she took a picture of him before sending the images of his father and the cakes on to Styx with a quickly typed caption. “For what it’s worth, Polo seemed like a nice guy. Scary smile, but a nice guy.”

  “Trust the scary smile,” Syd,” came the surprisingly serious reply. “Marco Polo Scorpeone, or Scorpio, was the Russian mob’s deadliest torpedo we’d seen in generations. He’s a legend, and not in a good way.”

  “Torpedo?”

  “Hitman.”

  Holy freaking crap. “I…I see.”

  “I get that you just happened to meet him at House Of Payne, so I doubt you’ll ever have any reason to cross paths with him again. Just to be on the safe side, though, I wanted to give you a heads-up as to who your new friend really is.”

  “Got it.” She swallowed hard, trying not to freak out. But damn, that was a tall order. “I have to admit, I’m shocked, Arthur. Polo seemed so nice.”

  “Obviously he thought the same about you, since he wanted you to call him Polo. Usually he insists on going by the name Scorpio. When he does, he’s not so friendly.”

  Yikes. “I don’t even want to know what that means.”

  “On the upside,” Arthur went on, clearly trying to lighten the mood, “he was so impressed with you that he wanted me to know he’s keeping an ear to the ground when it comes to anything nasty headed your way. In all honesty, I told him I appreciated that. He’s also done something I didn’t expect.”

  She was afraid to ask. “What?”

  “He’s still got connections to Chicago’s underworld—the Medvedev clan in particular, and it just so happens they’re now the main family running the Russian mob. He told them to broadcast it far and wide that you’re a personal friend of his. He’s declared that you are under his special protection, and if you’re harmed in any way, he’ll take that as a declaration of war. Since every Hardwick is saying the same thing from the law enforcement end of it, you’re now probably the safest human being in all of Chicago.”

  Dear God, her life was so out of control. “How did this even happen?”

  “What, all of us declaring that you’re off-limits? People like you, Syd,” he said, shrugging as if they were talking about the weather and not how the entire police department and the Russian mob were now looking out for her. “They meet you, and they like you. That’s just how it is. No need to question it. Just go with the flow, and it’ll all work out in the end.”

  The words touched her so much she had to take a second to swallow the lump in her throat. “I hope it ends sooner rather than later, Arthur. This has got to be wearing everyone down.”

  “You kidding? This whole cops-and-robbers thing is our definition of fun.”

  “I’m glad someone’s having fun around here,” she muttered even as her text chime went off.

  �
��Let me guess.” Arthur grinned when she glanced at her phone. “It’s my son wanting two things—the chocolate cake, and an answer as to why I’m here. Tell him Trey sent me in to check on you, because Styx is acting like a damn Nervous Nellie.”

  She couldn’t help but shake her head as she typed. “It’s like you’re psychic. That’s almost verbatim what he said.”

  “What can I say, I know my kid. And I know that it seems like being under the gun is never going to end, but you’re wrong, hon,” he added, surprising her enough to glance back up at him. He smiled, and she could see where Styx inherited his killer charm. “We’ve got another lead we’re trying to track down, and it’s a good one, so keep the faith, yeah? There’s always a light at the end of the tunnel. Once we get you there, you can get back to your life.”

  That had been a life without Styx in it, she thought as she answered Styx’s text, then put the cake he’d chosen in the basket. Maybe she was crazy, but she’d rather live under the gun forever as long as she had Styx.

  “I’ve never been a clock-watcher before, but these last fifteen minutes until the end of shift are taking forever.” Sydney glared at her phone, willing the numbers to magically turn to five o’clock before she grimaced at Jada. “It’s been so dead today. Do you think I can get away with leaving early?”

  “You can’t leave yet.” Looking woebegone, Jada pushed her cart alongside Sydney’s near the front of the store. “Not until you talk to Wesley to see if there’s going to be some kind of personnel shake-up.”

  “Jada, he’s avoiding me like I’ve got cooties, and with all the cops around here and overall census down in the store today, I’m not surprised. My problems have obviously become the store’s problems, and that’s bad for business.” Sydney glanced toward the offices where she knew Wesley had spent a good part of the day. That in itself was strange; usually he was a constant presence on the floor, from encouraging the checkers to be bright and cheerful, to making sure there was a plentiful supply of baskets, to simply taking the pulse of the average shopper to see how they could better serve Market Place’s customers.

  Whatever was eating at Wesley, though, had pushed him into hibernation mode.

  Not exactly the best time to talk about quitting her job, she thought wryly. But at the very least she could apologize for upending the rhythm of day-to-day life within the store. With that in mind, she nodded to Jada, parked her basket up at the front of the building and headed down the short hall to the manager’s office. The one-way mirrored window looking out at the bank of checkout registers gave a perfect view of whoever approached the office, but Sydney still knocked politely before ducking her head inside.

  “Wesley? Do you have a minute?”

  “Ah. Sydney. Hello there.” Seated at his desk, Wesley cleared his throat and shuffled a stack of files from one corner of the desk to the other. “I can always spare my best secret shopper a few minutes. What can I do for you?”

  “I just wanted to apologize.” She slipped inside, letting the door swing shut behind her even as she again checked the time on the phone she still held in her hand. If Styx could hear her apologizing now, he'd tell her to shut the hell up, but she couldn’t help it. This needed to be said. “We haven't had a lot of customers in today, and I can't help but think it's because our parking lot looks like we’re giving away free donuts to anyone with a badge.”

  A sharp bark of laughter escaped him, making her blink in surprise. “Free donuts. That's funny.”

  “What's not funny is how this seems to be affecting everyone around here,” she said after an awkward moment, looking at him curiously. Maybe Jada was right to be worried; Wesley never laughed. “You, for instance. You've hardly spoken to me all day, and you seem a bit, well… not like your usual self.”

  “Really?” The files that had been placed on the far side of his desk migrated back to their original spot, and he focused on lining up each one like his life depended on it. “What is my usual self like?”

  “Not overly obsessed with where stacks of files belong, for one thing. You're nervous,” she explained when he turned to stare blankly at her. “I don't blame you, of course. After a day like today, with only a few dozen people coming through the store, corporate is bound to wonder what happened.”

  “Tomorrow will be fun, trying to explain this store’s numbers, I'll give you that. But then, who knows? Who knows if any of us will even be alive tomorrow?”

  Ohh-kay. Chalk one up for Jada. She’d definitely hit a bull’s eye when she’d tagged Wesley with the label of freaky. “Personally I’ve got hope that I’ll be alive tomorrow.”

  “Of course you do. Everything’s all rainbows and sunshine for you, isn’t it? Unfortunately, not everyone leads your charmed life, Sydney, so you might want to take that into account before blathering on about goddamn hope.” With every word his voice rose until he was almost shouting. She stared at him, too stunned to speak, while the silence that fell after his outburst rang around them. Then he abruptly pushed away from his desk and stood ramrod straight, adjusting his monogrammed argyle sweater vest. “Well. Was there anything else you needed to discuss?”

  Wow. “No. I just… Look, even though you’re my manager, I can’t help but also look at you as a friend, Wesley. And as your friend, I want you to know you that I’m here for you if there’s anything you need. Friends help each other, so like the song says, lean on me. I’m here if you need me.”

  “God, you’re sweet.” He said it without inflection, and he stared at her as if he’d never seen her before. “That’s why I had to put you out on the floor as a secret shopper. Sweet and tiny. That was exactly how I read you. That’s my greatest talent, you know—reading people. I’m almost never wrong. But I was wrong in every possible way when it came to you, wasn’t I? You call me a friend, and that’s accurate. We are friends, Sydney. I just didn’t think about what other kinds of friends you’ve managed to collect over the years.”

  “Kinds of friends?” Her eyes narrowed, and there was something in his tone that made her stomach slowly tighten into painful, greasy knots. “Are you referring to the cops outside?”

  “Of course. Who else?”

  Who else, indeed. “This is just a temporary wrinkle, Wesley. I know it’s horribly inconvenient and that it’s affecting the store, but as one of those cops reminded me earlier, nothing lasts forever.”

  “Yes. Including life itself.” His morose tone did nothing to help ease the knots in her stomach before he ran a fidgety hand over his head, smoothing what few wiry hairs he had. “Don’t mind me, Sydney. I’m just having what you might call a bad week. I’m sure everything will turn out just fine in the end. Just fine.”

  “Good.” But all the while her stomach refused to unknot itself. “If you wouldn’t mind, could you let Jada know you’re all right? She thought you might have something bothering you, so she was worried.”

  “Was she?” His expression remained strangely unmoved. “How nice of her to worry. What would I do without the great Jada Johnston and Sydney Ksenia-Koroskova Bishop to look out for me?”

  A block of ice dropped into her stomach.

  Ksenia-Koroskova.

  Had she ever mentioned her middle name to Wesley?

  No. No, she would have remembered that, mainly because most people had such profound reactions to her middle name.

  Maybe her memory was wrong when it came to how she’d filled out her employment application. Maybe that was how he knew her full name. He’d read it in her file.

  But…

  No, again.

  She distinctly remembered leaving it blank, as there simply wasn’t any room for it.

  So, how…?

  The word’s going out from me personally that Sydney Ksenia-Koroskova Bishop is not to be touched.

  Polo Scorpeone. A Russian mob torpedo. He’d put the word out to every criminal in Chicago that she was under his personal protection. Thanks to him, all the bad guys knew her full name.

  All the ba
d guys…and Wesley.

  But how could that be? Wesley wasn’t one of the bad guys.

  Unless…

  Unless he was.

  Remember these words—be smart, keep a cool head, and whatever you do, don’t show your enemies any weakness.

  Great advice.

  Now all she had to do was pull it off.

  “I know it’s probably irritating, having people worry about you,” she said after only a heartbeat of silence. Keep a cool head, keep a cool head… “The thing is, if we didn’t like you so much, Wesley, we wouldn’t worry. That’s what friends are for—to drive you crazy.”

  Another bark of too-loud laughter jettisoned from him. “Lucky me.”

  “Yes, lucky you.” She manufactured a bright smile before making a show of looking at her phone. “Well, looks like I’ve got about five minutes until I punch out. Guess I’d better take one last sweep of the store before heading home. See you tomorrow?”

  “Of course.” He gave her a smile that looked as false as hers felt. “Take care, Sydney.”

  “You, too.” With a wave, she wasted no time in ducking out of the office, her heart thudding so hard against her ribs it bordered on painful.

  Sydney Ksenia-Koroskova Bishop.

  Oh, God.

  Wesley, a criminal. Just the thought made her mind reel. Or if he wasn’t an actual criminal, he was at least close enough to the criminal world to hear that Polo, an infamous Russian hitman, had put the word out that she wasn’t supposed to be touched. And the conversation Jada had overheard could fit in with that, as well. Whoever had confronted him in his office—at this point Sydney doubted they were the delivery men they’d claimed to be—they may have heard Polo Scorpeone was pissed off she’d been targeted.

  Coupled with the unbelievable police pressure the Hardwick clan was producing on her behalf, it was no wonder Wesley sounded like he believed he was a dead man walking.