Glitter and Greed (Brooklyn Brothers #4)

by Melanie Munton

  But I was alone.

  No dark creature from my nightmares. No monster under this unfamiliar bed.

  These nightmares had been breeding insomnia in me for months, though I’d never really been a heavy sleeper before they’d started. In the small village I came from, it paid to be a light sleeper. Especially when the cost of not waking up at the right moment could be your very life. But after the nightmares became a regular occurrence, the insomnia had gotten so much worse. I was lucky to get even a few hours of peaceful sleep on any given night.

  I found myself downstairs in Luka’s gym half an hour later. My internal alarm clock, coupled with my ever-present restless energy, had prevented me from falling back asleep.

  “Uh, hello?”

  I jerked around at the feminine voice, my heart in my throat. I’d been so lost in memories of the past I’d rather forget that I hadn’t heard the front door open. A curvy woman wearing spandex pants and an oversized hoodie with her blond dreadlocks piled on top of her head stood just inside the weight room, staring at me in confusion.

  My hand flew to my chest, my heart still racing. “Oh, hola. Sorry, you scared me.”

  Her eyes darted around the room, as if angling for a weapon to use. “Did you sleep in here last night? How did you get in? If you leave right now, I won’t call the cops.”

  The threat of police involvement sparked fear in me. “No, um, I’m not homeless.” Almost but not quite.

  She frowned. “Did Luka hire you and forget to tell me?”

  I removed the plastic gloves I was wearing and straightened my clothing. Without a shower, though, there wasn’t much to be done for my appearance. “No, I’m not an employee. He just offered to let me stay in the upstairs apartment until I can find a new place. I’m Cat.”

  She looked a little dazed as we shook hands. “Huh.”

  “What?”

  Her expression turned pensive. “I’ve worked here for three years, and I’ve never seen a woman stay upstairs. They’ve all been Luka’s bros who just need a temporary place to crash.”

  Part of me was relieved this wasn’t some sort of game he ran on vulnerable women in order to get laid. Not that Luka gave off those kinds of vibes because he didn’t. And I was positive that he never had to play games in order to get female attention. They probably camped outside his house, waiting in line, like the night before the new iPhone release.

  “Yeah, he kind of helped me out last night,” I explained. “My apartment was broken into and the lock was destroyed. He said I could stay upstairs while I search for a new apartment.”

  Then he told me he wanted to shove his ten-inch cock inside me.

  Whew, ten inches. Just imagine.

  Oh, I did. Last night after he left, I imagined all kinds of erotic scenarios featuring his ten-incher that resulted in my hand being buried inside my panties.

  The woman’s face completely changed. Suspicion was replaced with sympathy and the next thing I knew, I was wrapped up in a bear hug. “Oh, my God, you poor thing! Sorry for grilling you, doll. I was just checking you weren’t here to knock Luka off or something.” She pulled back with a brilliant smile. “I’m Deja. I work the reception desk.”

  My shoulders relaxed. Maybe the stereotype about New Yorkers being rude and unfriendly didn’t apply to all of them. “Mucho gusto.”

  Her attention caught on my plastic gloves and the cleaning supplies I’d found in one of the storage closets. “Looks like I should be thanking you. You’re kind of doing my job right now.”

  I chuckled, feeling sheepish. “Yeah, well, I figured I needed to make myself useful while Luka’s letting me stay here. I assumed the machines probably need to be cleaned daily.”

  She grabbed a second pair of gloves. “They do, but doll, that’s what he pays me for. I usually get through the whole place before I open up.” She glanced around the room. “But hell, you’ve already gotten most of it done. What time did you wake up? Makin’ me feel lazy here.”

  “I’m a morning person. And I don’t mind. I like the busy work.”

  “If you say so,” she said, smacking her gum. “But the boss can’t know I’m not doing my job.”

  I grinned. “He won’t hear it from me.”

  A couple of minutes passed in silence as we both dove into our respective cleaning tasks. I wiped down the large set of mirrors that ran the entire length of one wall while Deja went to work sanitizing the row of elliptical machines.

  “So, Cat…what’s your story?”

  I smiled to myself, knowing it was coming eventually. “Don’t know. It’s still being written.”

  The less people around here know about me, the better.

  Deja tipped her head back and laughed. “All right, all right. Not an open book. Fair enough. How about where you work? Is that a safe enough question? Or do you go to school?”

  “Right now, I work part-time at Habanero, the Mexican restaurant a few blocks away.”

  “Oh, yeah, I love that place. They’ve got the best guac.”

  I hesitated for a moment and then said screw it. If she wanted to judge me, so be it. “And I work nights at Rumors.”

  I saw her nod in the mirror’s reflection. “Bartender or dancer?”

  “Dancer.”

  She didn’t look up from her cleaning task, didn’t even pause her movements. “Gotcha. I might have to hit you up for some lessons, then.” She met my gaze in the mirror and winked. “My girlfriend would be very appreciative.”

  When laughter burst out of me, I didn’t even try to contain it.

  It was one of the most refreshing feelings I’d had in a long time.

  I wasn’t proud of working at Rumors, but I refused to let other people make me feel inferior because of it. The fact of the matter was, I had my own reasons for dancing there, and no one needed to know about them. Not to mention, the money was good. I couldn’t afford to turn away that kind of money out of pride. Although pride was the one thing keeping me from stripping onstage in front of dozens of people. It was stupid to feel like I had the tiniest bit more privacy by confining my nudity to those small back rooms, where only one person at a time would see it. And since the owner liked being able to pay me under the table, he was fine with my “no stage” rule.

  “Hey, yo, Deja! Fresh bagels and schmear up here!”

  I peered around one of the machines to see a tall, very fit black woman wearing head-to-toe workout gear walking past reception with a brown paper bag in her hands.

  “We’re back here, Sharice!” Deja yelled, shooting me a sly glance. “Come meet Cat here. She’s staying upstairs in Luka’s old apartment.”

  Sharice poked her head around the corner of the weight room. “It’s a she?”

  I awkwardly waved from across the room. “Last time I checked.”

  Sharice immediately checked me over, making some noise of approval. “And here I thought today was going to be just another boring Thursday.”

  Deja waggled her eyebrows as she swiped up one of the to-go coffee cups. “And he’s not even letting her pay rent.”

  My gaze darted to hers. “How did you know that?”

  She smirked, glancing down at the bottle of Windex in my hands. “You wouldn’t feel as obligated to clean his gym in exchange for a place to stay if you were paying him, doll.”

  Mierda. Shit.

  Hiding things from these women might be harder than I thought. Maybe staying upstairs was a big mistake.

  Sharice rubbed her hands together. “Oh, yeah. This is going to be fun.”

  I looked back at her warily. “What will be?”

  She smiled mischievously. “Playing with the boss.”

  An hour later, I was beginning to understand what Sharice meant by that cryptic statement.

  Luka ambled through The Ring’s front door, having to slightly duck his six-and-a-half-foot tall body underneath the door frame. Dios, the man was huge. He said he used to be a boxer. He must have been a very successful one because I couldn’t imag
ine anyone being able to take him in a fight. And after having seen his skills worked on my unsuspecting neighbors the night before, I wondered why he wasn’t still fighting.

  He stopped on a dime when he spotted me standing near reception, chatting with Deja while Sharice finished up with her first client of the day at the free weights. He wore thin joggers that sat low on his hips, a gray t-shirt, the same unzipped black hoodie from the night before, and Nike trainers that looked to be around size twenty-seven.

  “What are you doing down here?”

  I straightened.

  Had I heard him wrong the night before? Was I not allowed to be here? The inhospitable nature of his body language indicated that someone had definitely woken up on the wrong side of the gigantic bed.

  “I’m just doing some laundry,” I answered slowly. “You did say I could use the machines, didn’t you?”

  I felt Deja watching our exchange with avid interest. And if I was reading her correctly…glee.

  Luka scrubbed his hand down his face, shaking himself. “Yeah. I just figured you’d be tired after last night. It’s not even seven o’clock yet.”

  I lifted my shoulder. “I usually don’t sleep much.”

  Our eyes held for several beats before Deja spoke up. “She also had half the place cleaned before I even got here.”

  His eyes flared, looking almost incensed. “Why?”

  I didn’t blink. “So that I’m not staying here for free.”

  His jaw hardened. “I told you—”

  “And I told you I’m not a charity. If you won’t let me pay you rent, then this is what you get.”

  He looked like he was about to say more, but Sharice walked up right then, fist bumping her client goodbye on his way out. “Morning, boss. We’ve been trying to get the scoop on your new tenant here.”

  When that mischievous glint from earlier reappeared in her eyes, anxiety rippled through me over what she had in mind.

  “Sharice,” Luka greeted the trainer. “How’d Jerome do last night?”

  She told me that her husband was an MMA fighter, an up-and-comer on the big circuit, and that Luka had helped train him early on in his career. Their friendship had led to Luka hiring on Sharice as a trainer.

  She smiled proudly. “Knockout in the fourth round. Still undefeated.”

  Luka shared that proud smile with a quick flash of teeth, the closest I’d ever seen him come to a real smile. “Glad to hear it. Tell him if he needs to spar a few rounds with some real competition to stay sharp, he can call me anytime.”

  Sharice lightly punched him on the shoulder. “I don’t know, boss. Been a few years now. You might be getting a little soft.”

  Luka scowled, even though she was obviously joking. The man was nothing but compact muscles and hard planes of definition. “Or you’re just afraid I’ll mess up his pretty face.”

  “Wouldn’t bother me none. I married him for his ass anyway.” She blew me a kiss before she walked off to greet her next client.

  I chuckled as my eyes tracked her into the next room and caught on all the gleaming, state-of-the-art machines. My body itched to take them all for a spin. Nothing could clear my head and center me like a brutal workout and a healthy dose of sweat. It was the most effective means of burning off my natural reservoir of excess energy. Back home in Mexico, my days had been full of the multiple jobs I’d worked to earn money and help provide for my family. There hadn’t been extra time or energy for leisurely exercise then. But ever since I’d followed the trail of my missing sister to the US, I’d been…jittery.

  The only thing that had been filling that void lately was my shift at Rumors.

  Truthfully, I wanted as many customers each night as I could get. Not just because of the money I so desperately needed, but because each paying customer meant one more opportunity to move. Those were the moments when I could let my body take over and do all the thinking for me. That was when things were simple. Uncomplicated. All I had to do was dance. So, I threw absolutely everything I had into each one.

  It was the only form of escape I had anymore.

  Dragging myself out of the reverie, I turned back to Deja, only to find Luka watching me with unabashed interest. But ay, there was a lot more than interest blazing in that smoldering gaze. There was a mixture of lust, intrigue, and something else that concerned and confused me all at the same time.

  Possessiveness.

  It was in his eyes every time he looked at me. And that concerned me because my experience with possessive men wasn’t all bright and shiny. That possessive gleam could start out as innocent—harmless even—but it could quickly become warped by other emotions. Imagined realities. Psychotic notions. That’s when it could turn…threatening.

  But Luka wasn’t him.

  Luka was a protector, not a perpetrator.

  I didn’t know him very well, but I at least knew that. For someone who had seen evil in its most depraved forms, I had learned to recognize it. And Luka didn’t have an evil bone in his body. He might have been prone to violence, but only when he or someone close to him was in danger. He was capable of destruction, but only in the defense of those weaker than himself.

  He wasn’t malicious

  He was a guardian.

  “So, Sharice and I were doing some thinking, boss,” Deja mused, cutting off my heated eye contact with Luka.

  He looked at his employee with obvious worry. “Do I want to hear this?”

  The orneriness in her eyes said not in the least.

  “We’ve been trying to get a better lineup of classes in here, right? Our spinning and pilates sessions have been really popular. But the most frequent request I’ve been getting lately has been for a pole dancing class.” She tipped her head at me, grinning. “What are the odds that you would stumble upon an expert?”

  That perked me up. “You want me to teach a class?”

  “No. Hell no.”

  My head whipped around to Luka. “Why not? Tons of gyms are offering them now. It’s a great full body exercise.”

  “Yeah,” Deja chimed in, smacking her gum. The way she made those sounds was a language all its own. “It’s a great full body exercise. I think a lot of people would sign up. What d’ya say, boss? You want to try her out?”

  Luka shot her a glare before swinging his gaze back to me. Then he stepped closer and lowered his voice. “You don’t even dance on the pole.”

  My cheeks wanted to go up in flames at him referencing the fact that he’d already seen me dance partially naked, but I wouldn’t let them. After all, I hadn’t even taken off my top that night, so it hadn’t exactly been a striptease. Right?

  “Just because I choose not to dance onstage doesn’t mean I don’t know how to work a pole.” I flinched at my word choice. “I’m actually not bad.”

  “We can always schedule an audition, so you can see her for yourself,” Deja helpfully offered. She was having a little too much fun with this conversation.

  I wasn’t going to complain, though. The idea of teaching a class was massively appealing. And if the pay was decent enough, I’d be able to quit my job at Habanero. As weird as it might sound, I preferred my job at Rumors to delivering greasy food that left a smell on my clothes I could never seem to get out. Plus, it was just plain boring.

  “I’d be happy to,” I spoke up cheerily, bouncing on the balls of my feet with excitement. “I could even create routines for beginner, intermediate, and advanced classes to show you.”

  Luka breathed heavily through his nose, broad shoulders heaving. He didn’t look at all happy, and I wasn’t sure why. In fact, he acted like he wanted to use a few choice words but refused to with Deja in earshot. But what had I done? This wasn’t even my suggestion.

  “I’ll think about it,” was all he said.

  He held my gaze for a few drawn-out seconds before stomping off.

  My breath rushed out of me.

  Deja whistled. “Whooee, doll. You’ve got some kinda hold on him. I’ve never seen
him buggin’ like that. Gum?”

  My eyes snapped down to the strip of gum she held out. Before I could school my reaction, I scowled and inched away from it, like it was a poisonous snake. I’d already learned the particular flavor Deja favored, and it couldn’t have been more distasteful to me.

  “No, thanks.”

  Her expression filled with curiosity. “Don’t like gum?”

  “Not that kind.”

  “Big Red?” She chuckled. “What’s wrong with Big Red?”

  Just hearing those words left a bad taste in my mouth. “Someone I used to know chewed it all the time. An…ex.” I shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “I guess I just associate the smell with him.”

  In fact, almost any cinnamon fragrance reminded me of him. The monster of my shadowed past.

  My explanation seemed to make sense to her. “Noted. Only mint-flavored breath fresheners for Cat.”

  Needing an immediate subject change, I tipped my head in the direction Luka stalked off. “What’s his story anyway?”

  Her eyes widened. “What’s Luka Rossetti’s story? You’ve never heard of the Brooklyn Brothers?”

  I frowned. “Should I have?”

  “That’s right. You haven’t been in this city very long. You probably wouldn’t have heard much.”

  “I didn’t realize a local boxer would gain that much notoriety.”

  Nor would a gym owner, right?

  She chuckled. “Oh, that’s not all he’s infamous for. I assume you know about the five New York crime families?”

  Qué?

  “As in, la mafia?”

  I’d pegged Luka as the non-criminal type, even if he seemed to have a bit of a temper.

  What the hell was she about to tell me?

  She patted the empty chair next to her behind the reception desk once she saw my stunned expression. “Come sit down and let me tell you a little story.”

  The crack of gunfire filled the air.

  The smell of burnt gunpowder.

  The weight of the Beretta M9 pistol in my hands.

  For Rome, these sounds and smells were his medicine. Just like fighting cured all my ills, unloading clip after clip was the salve to Rome’s not-quite-healed wounds. As an ex-Ranger sniper, having a weapon in his hand was like an extension of his own body. He once told me that he felt unhinged without having that metal for his fingers to grip.