by Monica James
Tiger witnessed the entire scene and grins. She clearly likes my crazy when she cups her mouth discreetly, and says, “You’re my crazy bitch.”
She doesn’t know the half of it.
Only when she disappears off the stage do I turn my back and walk toward the bar. Lotus is busy serving thirsty patrons, and the line is so long that Tawny is helping her. I’m about to lend a hand when someone enters through the door and stops me dead in my tracks.
Stevie.
He is smoking his usual cigar, and when he sees me, he blows out a circle of smoke. This isn’t a casual visit.
Putting my game face on, I walk over, thankful one of my eyes has swollen over so he can’t see the mismatched color. To him, I’m Tommy, working here to help him steal the club from Lotus.
“’Sup, boss,” I tease, extending my hand. I’m suddenly thankful Lotus is busy.
“Hey. Thought I’d come by and check out my investment.” His hungry eyes scan the packed room, and he whistles. “Looks like your plan worked.”
“Looks that way.” I play along.
“How’re you feeling?”
“Fine,” I counter, folding my arms across my chest.
“Good to hear because you’re coming to dinner.”
“Dinner?” I arch a brow, confused.
“Yes. All we do is work. I hardly know a thing about you.” And that’s how he usually likes it. But now, things have changed.
“Fine. I’ll let you know when I’m free.”
Of course, this isn’t optional.
“Tomorrow night suit you?”
Inhaling slowly, I nod. “Sure, tomorrow night it is.”
When Stevie glances over my shoulder, I already know who he’s seen. “Bring your friend.”
I don’t bother with pretenses. I won’t waste either of our time.
He confidently strolls over to the bar and takes a seat like he already owns the place. But I suppose he does.
The jig is up, so I turn around and find Tiger. Our eyes lock from across the room. Her gaze darts toward Stevie before nervously returning to me. All I can do is nod that it’ll be okay, but for the first time in my life, I can’t guarantee that it will be.
Bull
“Are you listening to me?”
“No,” I reply, patting myself down because I can’t find my keys.
Paul chuckles in response. “I said I got you something.”
Pausing, I arch a suspicious brow. “I don’t want anything.”
“Too bad,” he replies, jumping up from the bed and digging into his pocket. When he produces a brass bull key chain, I continue looking at him like he’s lost his mind. “Here, I got you this.”
“Why?”
Paul rolls his eyes, ignoring my social ineptness. “To say thanks for—”
But I cut him off. “You don’t need to say thanks for anything. You’re doing me a solid, so—”
It’s now his turn to interrupt with a laugh. “Just fucking say thank you and stop making it more awkward.”
Seeing as this isn’t optional, I accept the key chain and look at the bull. I can see a resemblance. The thing looks fucking pissed off.
“It’s supposed to bring good luck,” Paul explains with a shrug. “Something about feng shui or some shit.”
“Cool,” I reply, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. I’ve never received a “just because” gift before. I don’t know how to act, so I offer him my fist.
We fist bump, and I’m thankful Paul doesn’t make a fuss.
I go back to hunting for my keys.
The mystery is solved when Paul gestures toward the sofa with his head. “Your keys are there. Lucky you now have a key chain to put them on. See, I’m a fucking lifesaver.”
I snicker in response, but he’s right. I hate to admit it, but I’m kind of getting used to him being around. Maybe it’s because I see a lot of myself in him. I can only hope his life turns out differently than mine did.
Grabbing my keys, I shove them and the key chain into my pocket. I know most people would appear thankful for such a gift and use the key chain, but I am still getting used to all this social shit.
“What’s up with you? You’re acting crazier than usual,” Paul asks, opening a bag of Cheetos.
“I have to drop this off before dinner.”
“And?” he prompts.
“And I’m running fucking late,” I reply. Being late tonight isn’t an option.
“Let me do it,” he offers with a casual shrug. “I know what to do.”
“Yes, but I won’t be there.” Paul has come with me before, but him going on his own? I don’t like it.
“Yeah and?” he asks, his mouth stuffed full of Cheetos. “I don’t need you to hold my hand. I’ll look both ways before I cross the road.”
Looking at the clock on the bedside table, I sigh.
“In and out. Got it?” I say to Paul, handing over the envelope of cash for Kong’s family.
“Yes. I got it,” he sarcastically replies, snatching the envelope from my hand. This kid is such a smart-ass, which is the reason he’s still here.
After Stevie showed up at work last night, I can’t be too careful. As far as he knows, I took care of his “problem.” If he sees Paul, it won’t end well for either of us.
“So you’ve finally gotten over your girl phobia?” he says while I look at him like he’s lost his fucking mind because he clearly has.
“I don’t have a girl phobia,” I reply. “Whatever the fuck that is.”
Paul nods, but from the grin on his face, he’s clearly just humoring me.
“I don’t blame you. There is something special about her.”
Pausing from placing my Glock into my holster, I arch a brow while he quickly backtracks.
“I just meant, she looks like a nice person.”
“Uh-huh,” I counter, enjoying watching him squirm. “Enough with the touchy-feely crap. Come right back here when you’re done.”
Paul nods, sliding the envelope into his back pocket. “Are you sure you don’t need backup tonight?”
“I’m sure,” I reply firmly. He needs to understand how serious I am about this. “Do what you’re told, kid.”
“Yes, Dad.” He mock salutes.
His comment has me curling my lip. God help any poor kid if I was their dad.
Once I have everything I need, I reach for my jacket. Dinner is at Stevie’s house. He has home turf advantage, but I hope I get a chance to meet the infamous Bianca.
“Okay, I’ll catch you later.”
Paul nods, slumping back onto my bed like he owns the place. I only tolerate him because he’s good company for Fluffball, I reason. But deep down, I know the kid is growing on me.
He switches the TV on and waves goodbye.
As I walk to my truck, I dig into my pocket for my keys. Once inside, I pull out the key chain ’cause the bull is digging into my ass. I toss it into the middle console and head over to Tiger’s house. I wish she didn’t have to come, but I know that if I don’t bring her, it’ll raise red flags, and Stevie will seek her out on his own. At least this way, I will be with her and can ensure her safety.
When I pull into her street, I see that she’s waiting for me in the foyer of her apartment building. She runs out into the snow when I pull up by the curb. “Hey,” she says as she jumps into the truck, rubbing her hands together to keep warm.
“You should have waited for me in your apartment,” I state, hating how “dad-like” I sound.
Tiger stops rubbing her hands together. “It’s fine. Besides, I don’t like being in there alone. It reminds me so much of Jordy.”
Feeling like a dick for not realizing this, I nod. “Of course. You can always stay with me.” The words flow out of my mouth so naturally, I didn’t even think to stop them.
She smiles, nervously pulling the seat belt across her chest and buckling herself in. “Thanks. So what is going to happen tonight?”
The change in subject is welc
omed.
“I don’t know, but whatever it is, I want you to carry this.” Reaching over her legs, I open the glove compartment and retrieve a small handgun.
She gasps, recoiling in her seat.
“It’s just a precaution,” I quickly assure her. “But I’ll feel better knowing you’re armed.” Gently, I place it into her upturned palm. “Do you know how to use it?”
She shakes her head. “No, but teach me.”
“This is the safety.” I tap my finger over the notch. “Make sure this is on until you need to shoot.”
She nods astutely, taking it all in as she turns the gun over in her hand.
“Never place your finger on the trigger until you’re ready to shoot.”
“What else?” she asks, licking her pink glossy lips.
“If presented with danger, aim and shoot,” I instruct, brushing over her pulse.
A sharp inhale escapes her as her eyes dart up to meet mine. “It’s that easy?” she asks, her chest rising and falling, betraying her nerves.
“It’s that easy,” I confirm. “But taking someone’s life…it’s not always that straightforward.”
She quickly casts her eyes downward, knowing I’m referring to Lachlan. Yes, I had no issues shooting him, but the aftermath of my decision has been anything but easy.
Tiger nods as she places the gun inside her small bag.
Putting the truck into gear, I begin the drive toward Stevie’s house. It’s about a thirty-minute drive, and when I searched for it on the map, I could see it’s on a lot of land. The house itself is probably better described as a mansion.
Tiger is quiet, chewing the corner of her mouth as she peers out the window. I can only imagine how nervous she is, but I am too. Not for me, but for her. If she’s in danger, I will shoot and ask questions later, but I have to remember that will fuck up my plans of confronting Scrooge next week.
Everything seems to circle back to her.
Sighing, I focus on the road and not on the heavy feeling in the pit of my stomach.
When we arrive at the destination, both Tiger and I peer out the windshield. She whistles. “Holy shit. Being a bad guy sure has its perks. Imagine how many dead bodies pave that mansion,” she says with disgust.
And she’s right. This house is built on the lives Stevie has stolen.
Pulling up to the steel gates, I open the window and press the button for the intercom. The camera attached in the corner hints they already know I’m here.
“Hello?” a woman says over the speaker a few seconds later.
“Hi, I’m here for Stevie.”
“Name?”
“Tommy,” I reply while Tiger shifts in her seat. I’ve told her the ins and outs, but I’m sure this is uncomfortable for her.
The gates slowly open, granting us entry into a place that could have its own personal zip code. I travel the long driveway up toward the front door. The mansion is red brick with a black tiled roof. It has gothic details with modern touches.
Tiger rubs her palms over her long black coat nervously.
When I kill the engine, I look over at her and grip her wrist. “It’ll be okay. Remember what I told you?”
She nods quickly.
We rehearsed a speech last night after Stevie eventually left. She had the good sense to remain backstage. He won’t buy it, but there is a reason we’re here. And when the man of the hour opens the double doors, it seems now is the time to find out what that is.
Tiger takes a deep breath, appearing to need a minute. She is trembling all over but sits tall.
We exit the truck, and although I want more than anything to hold her hand to comfort her, I don’t. I can’t let Stevie know how much she means to me.
“Welcome,” he says as we ascend the marble steps.
Tiger stays by my side.
“Thanks for the invite,” I casually reply.
Stevie looks at Tiger, smirking. There is nothing warm about the gesture. “It’s so nice to meet a friend of Tommy’s. He isn’t a big talker. Maybe you can share some secrets with me, eh?”
It’s meant to be a joke, but we all know he isn’t playing. He saw her the other night at the fight. He knows she’s someone of importance.
She nods with a small smile. “I was thinking the same thing.” She plays it off. Good girl.
Stevie laughs, but it’s strained.
He welcomes us into his home, and the moment I enter, I want to leave this museum. It’s probably really nice, but to me, it’s so over the top. I wonder if the riches are making up for something else he’s lacking. But when a sophisticated woman gracefully descends the marble staircase in front of us, I realize this wealth isn’t to impress his guests. It’s to impress her.
This is no doubt Bianca.
She is beautiful, with long black hair and piercing green eyes which appear vibrant against her olive skin. I can see why Jaws and Stevie are fighting over her. Her white dress clings to her curves. When Stevie peers up at her, it’s no secret he is smitten by her as she is a woman who can bring down an empire.
“It’s so nice to finally meet a colleague of Stevie’s.” I don’t notice a wedding ring on her finger, so I’m guessing they’re not married, which is the reason Jaws thinks he still has half a shot.
Bianca has both men in the palm of her hands. No wonder both would do anything to keep her. Unless she is playing both sides. It makes sense.
She knows I’m not a fucking colleague, but I humor her regardless. “The pleasure is all mine. This is Eva.” Tiger shuffles her feet.
There is no way in hell I’m giving them Tiger’s real name even though they will eventually find out who she really is. Honestly, I can’t be too certain they don’t already know.
“Nice to meet you.” Once Bianca descends the last step, she extends her hand toward me, and I shake it lightly. She then gives Tiger a two-cheek kiss as though they’re old friends.
Tiger knows who she is. She knows this woman may be a small reason her brother has transformed into a psychopath. I know it’s hard for her to keep her cool, but she cannot, under any circumstances, let on just who she is to Jaws.
She knows the consequences if she does, and she plays her part like a fucking pro. “I love this dress. Is it Versace?”
Bianca arches a dark brow, impressed. “You know your fashion. I think we will get along just fine.” She loops her arm through Tiger’s, escorting her out of the foyer.
Stevie playfully rolls his eyes. “Women.”
I attempt a resemblance of a smile as we follow the women through the house and into one of the many living areas I’m sure this mansion has.
Stevie walks over to the bar, reaching for the decanter. “Scotch?”
I nod, ensuring I stay close enough to Tiger in case I need to spring into action. Bianca leads Tiger over to the couch, chatting happily. Tiger doesn’t seem worried, so I pull up a barstool and take a seat.
Stevie passes me the crystal tumbler. The smell of a neat scotch calms the nerves.
“So you’re feeling better? You never did tell me who beat the shit out of you.”
Sipping my drink, I savor the burn before replying, “I ran into a door.” This is code for I ain’t telling you jack shit. Just because I’m in his house doesn’t mean I’m going to confide in him.
He grins, then lights a cigar. “I must say, I was very surprised you lost your fight. I know you weren’t on your A-game, but I know how much you like to win.”
“I guess I’m just an overachiever.”
“I like you, Tommy.” He points his cigar my way. “Kong liked you, too.”
The conversation drops to arctic temperatures.
“I always wonder what happened to him. It seems so out of character for him to up and leave like that. I mean, yes, he was a coward, but he was loyal. But I suppose Jaws—”
Bianca suddenly stops talking and clears her throat. “Stevie, no shop talk at home.” Her tone may be light, but no one is fooled.
S
he knows what Stevie does. She knows she gets into bed at night with a drug dealer, a murderer, and an embezzler, among other things. So clearly, Jaws is a touchy subject for her. Could it be trouble in paradise? Or maybe my hunch was right. Maybe she is screwing both.
Stevie doesn’t appreciate being reprimanded in his own home, but he doesn’t say a word.
“Shall we eat?” Bianca asks, coming to a stand.
Eating is the last thing on anyone’s mind, but we humor her, nonetheless.
Everyone is on their best behavior at dinner, but the tension can be cut with the steak knife I’m holding. Stevie seems to be more interested in the red wine while Bianca attempts to play house.
“So you met at the club?” she asks, cutting into her filet mignon.
Tiger nods, reaching for her glass of water. “Yes. The girls and I are happy to have him there.”
Stevie leans back in his seat, swirling the wine in his glass. He doesn’t know how long I’ve really worked there.
“Well, Stevie can’t stop talking about you, Tommy, so you’re one popular boy.” Bianca is trying really hard to make conversation with me, but I just want this night to be over.
Pushing back my plate, I reach for my beer and look at Stevie, hinting if he has a point to make it. He thankfully gets the hint.
He takes the bait.
“We will leave you girls to it. We have some business to discuss.” Stevie finishes his wine, then stands.
Tiger shifts in her seat but nods discreetly at me. She’ll be okay. Insisting she comes with me will only rouse suspicion, and besides, she has a gun, and I know she isn’t afraid to use it.
Meeting Bianca’s eyes, I recognize the inquiry behind them. She wants to know if we’re friend or foe. But is there such a thing in our world?
A part of me is terrified she knows who Tiger is and will somehow use that to get intel on who I am. But I know Tiger would never betray me that way. However, if Bianca gave Tiger what she wants—information on her son—I wonder if her loyalties would shift? I wouldn’t blame her if they did.
I leave them discussing the charity Bianca chairs. It’s laughable really. I mean, she’s set up house with a killer, and here she is, playing Mother Teresa. But it’s all for show. These people hide behind the mask of normalcy, fooling others into thinking they’re just like them. And when they’re accepted, when they’ve gained the trust and respect is when they strike.
