by Deana Birch
She pushed into my chest and I stepped back with my smirk firmly in place.
“Get off, asshole.”
“Interesting choice of words.” My tone was lighter, teasing, and I lifted my eyebrows to match the reference.
“Oh my God! You really are a piece of shit. Can you stop thinking about me and my tits for longer than thirty seconds? Gross.”
Probably not.
I cleared my throat. “In all seriousness, Fi, don’t fall for Mac’s tricks. And if he doesn’t believe you’re mine, well…”
“Well, what? The big, bad bald wolves will come and rape me?” Fiona wiggled her fingers and her tone was taunting. It wasn’t the first time she’d hinted that we were overreacting. But she didn’t understand the mind of criminals, because she wasn’t one.
Once a person had broken the law, they had an enemy. The better someone got at crime, the more the other law breakers hated them. Anton was doing well in Covington. His supply of drugs was never an issue, due to his family connections. Not only had the guys from Bradford Towers tried to invade our territory, but there had also been minor threats from Jefferson Manors to the east.
But Mac? That was a dormant grudge against Anton and his family for ruining his business decades prior. When someone made it personal, they lost perspective—or at least that was what my dad always said.
Three quick knocks came from the door and I glanced at Jackson and nodded. To Fiona, I said, “Trust me.”
She rolled her eyes and turned her back. Maybe it was asking too much, but she would see soon enough. Mac had a slithery way about him that could make a person’s skin crawl.
Two young businessmen wearing dark, tailored suits came in and Jackson frisked them. I walked around the bar and met them once they’d been patted down and cleared for entry.
“Gentlemen. I believe you know the drill. Ten thousand each.” They each pulled out rolls of cash and handed them over. I tossed one to Fi, who caught it with a start. “Count.”
The Wall Street shithead with the blond, slicked-back hair asked, “While you verify, we’re going to fuel up.” He pulled out a little baggie with cocaine and dumped a small pile of the white powder on the bar.
I didn’t give two shits what those pricks put in their bodies, but out of the corner of my eye I could see that Fiona had lost track of her total and had started her pile of hundreds again. Maybe I should have warned her about the drugs.
Five little white lines were perfectly parallel on the black bar. The businessman wet his finger and rubbed it on the credit card he’d used to separate the coke. He spread the residual powder on his gums then stored the card back in his wallet.
With a rolled-up bill, they took turns snorting the lines until only one remained. When I’d first taken over the games, they’d asked me a few weeks in a row if I wanted a line. I’d always said no, so eventually they stopped asking.
The blond twisted his wrist so the bill was in Fiona’s direction. “You’re up, sweetheart.”
The color drained from Fiona’s face. “I—”
With a quick sidestep, I was between the blond banker and the bar. “You think I’d let my girlfriend do blow with two strangers?” The threat hiding behind my light tone was enough for him to put his hands up and step back.
“Just trying to share.” He looked at his buddy. “Split it?”
As I walked around the bar, they finished their drugs. Fiona handed me the stack of money. “Ten thousand. I counted it three times.” Her voice was steady, but I didn’t imagine that extra-long exhale as I stepped closer.
Under the bar, I found our little black envelope-like bag where we kept the money next to our stash of chips. I unzipped it, found the rubber bands, wrapped them around the two stacks and stored the money. I tilted my head to Fiona and hoped my silent message of her actually doing her job would do the trick.
It worked. She leaned into the bar, and blondie on the other side dropped his gaze to her chest.
“Eyes up,” I said with a glare.
Fiona ignored me and asked him, “What can I get you guys to drink?”
“Jack and Cokes.”
Fiona nodded and rubbed her palms together as she surveyed the stash behind her. I decided not to be a hovering prick and let her work that shit out. It wasn’t nuclear science, for fuck’s sake. I took out the chips and recounted them. Fiona managed the drinks and the two babbling bankers made their way to the table.
Another knock came from the door and our high-roller, Roland, walked in with his high-class hooker. He always brought arm candy, sometimes the same one. But the platinum blonde in her tight, hot-pink dress and overly plumped lips was new to me.
Jackson checked them out and found a barstool for the blonde, who ordered champagne, then dug out her phone and got lost in a game involving unicorns and candy. Roland was dressed in his usual light jacket and white open-collared shirt. The handkerchief in his pocket was a light blue silk that popped the color in his fading eyes. He handed me his money in a nice, clean pile and I didn’t bother counting it, out of respect. Besides, his stack was always what I took home, and it had never been off once.
“Can I get you a drink?” Fiona asked with a simple smile.
“Roland only drinks water,” I said as I brushed by Fiona a little too close. What could I say? I was an opportunist. “Keep it fresh for him.”
I carried the three stacks of chips over to the table and distributed them to the players. Roland studied the bankers while they continued the diarrhea of the mouth that came from sniffing a stimulant.
When the final knock came, the hairs on the back of my neck stood at attention. I made my way over to Fiona, picked her up and sat her next to the sink. With a nudge from my knee, she opened her legs and I leaned in. “Put your arms around me.”
“You’re being—”
“Now, Fiona.” My sharp tone got her attention and her eyes fluttered but she obeyed. I drew her nearer and kissed up her soft neck until I found it. The spot that made her giggle like her adorable little sister.
She shifted to try to get away, and with a true smile on her face, she said, “That tickles, you shit.”
Jackson greeted Mac from behind us and I pulled back so we were nose-to-nose.
“Good,” I said then gave her a quick peck on the lips. I moved to step away but she’d locked her hands around my neck.
Something had settled in her bright eyes and I couldn’t put my finger on it. Lust? Mischief? Maybe it was trust.
“One more.”
If she was acting, we would be just fine. I shifted my gaze to her lovely lips then back to her eyes before closing my own and leaning in. In any other setting I would have said ‘fuck gentle’ and replayed the day before in the lobby. Our lips met and I held the kiss. I cupped her cheek with one hand and wrapped my other arm around her waist. Her breath hitched, and I didn’t know up from down.
Jackson coughed, and with regret, I stepped away and turned to face Mac, who was scrutinizing me from behind his dark glasses.
“Who’s this?” he asked without motioning to Fiona, and he handed me his money.
“Scooter got promoted.” I focused on counting. If anyone would be short, it would be him.
“That’s not what I asked.” Mac tapped the bar.
“Well, that’s the answer you’re getting.”
The money was all there, and I stored it with the rest. Our games were winner takes all, minus our cut for keeping it safe and fair. Walk in with ten thousand, walk out with thirty. There were only four players allowed, so the chances of making money were pretty damn good if a person knew how to play. Getting high and wasted hadn’t proved to be an effective strategy, but the bankers seemed to enjoy mixing with darker characters more than winning. They probably bragged about their secret nights to interns and other equally douchey dicks.
“Can I get you a drink?” Fiona asked, and just the thought of her interacting with Mac made my skin crawl.
“Vodka on the rocks wit
h a lemon twist. Sorry… I didn’t catch your name.”
“Fiona,” she said and I instantly hated him knowing.
Mac smirked like he’d won some sort of prize. “You can bring it to me, Fiona. Such a pretty name for such a pretty face.” He walked to the table and shook hands with everybody.
I couldn’t show that I was pissed at her for being stupid. Couldn’t let out the anger bubbling beneath my skin that, in two seconds flat, Mac had picked up on her presence meaning more than it should. Damn it. I’d warned Anton. My only hope was to sell the lie of her being mine.
Chapter Nine
Fiona
I added the three ice cubes to the vodka and walked it over. Since Mac had come in, I’d understood a little slice of what Leo had warned me about. I fought off a shiver. The red-headed man with the dark glasses reeked of slime. I slipped his drink into the little cubby hole next to him, and just when I thought I would get away, he laid his hand on my bare forearm and I froze. He gripped my flesh and let out a small moan. “You that soft everywhere, gorgeous?”
It was everything I could do not to puke in my mouth.
“Hands off my fucking girl, Mac.”
One sinister finger at a time, he let go of my arm, and I backed away and returned to behind the bar. Jackson had positioned his bar stool to watch the game and he shot me a brief look of compassion.
I refilled the blonde’s champagne and wiped down the bar countless times. About two hours in, when one of the bankers was about to lose everything, he won a huge hand, taking half of Mac’s remaining money. Leo called for a break and the guys took turns going to the bathroom and refilling their bodies with drugs and drinks.
Of all the years my mom had used drugs, she’d never done them in front of me. I guessed it was her one saving grace. I’d seen her high or coming down to a hard crash, but I’d never seen her—or anyone, actually—put the toxic chemicals into their bodies. So as the two bankers sniffed the white chalky powder from right there on the bar in front of me, I turned my back and rewashed some glasses, an uncomfortable heat crawling up my spine.
They ordered two more Jack and Cokes and I served them with a clipped smile.
Mac, who had been chatting with the man named Roland, bellied up to the bar, ignoring the bankers and their white lines. “So, has Leo fucked you in your tight ass yet?”
I swallowed hard, trying to buy time to find an answer or just ignore him. I decided not to respond and was about to turn around when Leo slid in behind me and roped an arm around my stomach. He copped a feel of one of my breasts, dragged his lower lip from my collarbone to my ear, and said, “I’ve written my name all over her fine body. But this one doesn’t kiss and tell, so you can stop asking.”
I entered a space I’d never known existed—safer. I was by no means safe and was pretty sure I hadn’t given Leo any kind of permission to touch my breasts, but his marking me as his was keeping me safer than letting me fend for myself. It was odd to be grateful, and yet I was.
“It’s unlike you to be so possessive, Leo. It makes a fellow wonder why,” Mac said and downed the rest of his drink.
Leo tugged me closer and brought his other arm around my waist. He scratched my neck with his rough stubble and rested his chin on my shoulder. “What can I say? I finally found one I like having around outside of my bed.”
Any other time I would have groaned or scoffed. Instead, I dropped my head back into Leo’s shoulder and closed my eyes. For a fraction of a second, I allowed myself to bathe in the sense of security. I let myself believe the lie, because being held was nice. And nice was not something I’d had a lot of.
I spun around slowly and smiled up to Leo. “I have a drink to make.”
Leo snaked his hands down my lower spine and took a proper hold of my ass. His dark eyes glimmered with desire. Maybe I was just as much his forbidden fruit as he was mine—or maybe he was just fantastic at faking. And that simmering energy pulsating out of my chest was just my nerves, because we were putting on a show.
Leo squeezed a final time and winked—which made me want to laugh, because him being playful didn’t seem like something in his realm of normal—then let me go. They all reclaimed their seats, the two businessmen peppier and more jittery than before. I made Mac’s vodka, and when I moved to take it to the table, Leo reached for it instead.
“I got this.”
Roland was the first one to lose. His escort hadn’t left her seat or phone the entire three hours they’d been there, but as soon as he approached and told her they were leaving, she stored her phone in her tiny sparkly bag and plastered a smile across her overly made-up face. She followed him to the door where Jackson stood and let them out.
The dark-haired businessman went all in on a bluff and Mac claimed his chips without even cracking a smile. The suit stayed at the table to support his friend, who was chewing on a piece of gum so fast that I thought his jaw might overheat.
Mac folded a couple of times, then found a hand he wanted to play and he raised. The fidgety mess across from him looked confident but Mac stayed cool, like the reptile I was sure he was. It was probably the drugs that made the banker dude go all in—stupid, fucked-up fool with his white-powder ego. He was going to lose. I didn’t even need to see the cards.
The pile of chips in the center of the table went to Mac, whose bemused smile wasn’t full. Instead, his gaze came to me, obvious even behind his dark glasses.
“Looks like your girl is my good luck charm.” He stacked the chips he’d just won while the bankers swore at their loss and left.
Leo circled around the bar and took out the money. He walked over and gave three stacks to Mac, who thumbed through the bills with his pale, spotted fingers. Satisfied that he hadn’t been cheated, Mac stood and meandered over to the bar where I was finishing the last of the glasses. He laid out two hundred-dollar bills and tapped them.
“Thanks for the drinks, Fiona. It was a true pleasure making your acquaintance.” Mac hovered for a final second, his eerie energy wafting over and causing me to hold my breath. “Leo… Jackson…” Mac nodded to both men and, once he was out of the door, I let out a long exhale.
I stared at the money he’d left. Roland had tipped me a twenty and the bankers each fifty. In less than four hours I’d made over three hundred dollars, but the bulk of it in front of me, I didn’t even want to touch.
Jackson leaned over the bar. “It’s all dirty money, sis. Don’t get wrapped up in the levels of the grime or you’ll never get by.” His softer tone matched his warm, dark eyes and I understood what Lisa liked in him. Jackson didn’t have the edge that Anton and Leo had. He was just as built, and his chocolate skin was equally handsome, but Jackson seemed like a genuine nice guy.
“Right.” I pocketed the bills but washed my hands for good measure.
Leo slipped behind me and stored the chips. “You done?” There more than just a hint of cranky in Leo’s question.
“Are you mad at me?” I yanked back and gave him the once-over.
Leo let out that throaty grumble he did when he was annoyed. It was equal parts stupid and adorable. “You shouldn’t have told him your name.”
Not this again. “Listen… I get it. If I searched ‘creepiest fucker alive’, Mac’s face would come up. And while your…protectiveness is appreciated, it’s also a kiss overboard and short-sided. If I hadn’t told him, it would have meant we had something to hide.”
Jackson glanced between us and stretched up his long arms overhead. “She’s got a point, Number Two. Come on. I still need to get J.J. from Lisa’s.” He went to the door and held it open.
The small glare coming from Leo said volumes. Not only did he not like Jackson taking my side, but he also didn’t like being second in command. Interesting.
I followed Leo out and we drove back up to Covington in silence. The highway next to the river was deserted, due to the late hour, and without traffic to slow us down, the ride was quick. When we pulled up across the courtyard, I reali
zed that the illusion of being a part of something was a feeling I wasn’t ready to let go of.
When we got to the elevator, I asked with a tentative smile, “Leo?”
He seemed to be over his small tantrum. His energy was almost normal, whatever that was. But it somehow gave me permission and courage to continue.
“I’m not quite ready to go home. Can I come over for a beer or something?”
The glimmer came back to his eyes—the ‘or something’ had obviously set his imagination aflame. And while I was pretty sure I’d confirmed his desire for me the day before, a hot and heavy make out session with him wasn’t what I’d meant. The real reason was that I didn’t want to go home.
“Suit yourself.”
Oh, his ‘tough guy doesn’t care’ act in front of Jackson was laughable, and I wanted to call him out on it, but not as bad as I needed a bit of company. We said goodbye to Jackson on the third floor and I followed Leo into his apartment.
The small light over the cooktop was on and Leo found two beers in the fridge then motioned for the couch. I kicked off my heels, tucked my foot under my ass and sat in a corner. Leo handed me the cold, brown bottle before he sat in the middle of the sectional with his legs sprawled.
I took a cautious sip, and while I wasn’t a huge fan of the bitter liquid, I swallowed it down. “I don’t usually drink,” I said in a small voice.
“Oh, yeah?” Leo turned his head in my direction and lifted his thick brows. “To what do I owe this pleasure, then?”
It was odd, having a real conversation with the man next to me. I was sure I hated him, knew I lusted after him, but was beginning to wonder if I needed him. Frustrating and insulting him was a fun sport and I was sure I would never give it up, but in that moment, I needed a friend. I could only hope he wouldn’t use it against me.
“It threw me, the drugs.” I fiddled with the label on the beer. Looking into his eyes would have meant confirming the vulnerable side of myself that I was so desperately trying to keep hidden from the world. “My biggest fear is turning into her.”
