Her Michigan Mob Boss (Stateside Doms #24)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

Annie

Apprehension gripped me as my cab pulled away, leaving me on the sidewalk outside a sleazy-looking club. I couldn’t help wondering if I’d made a huge mistake in coming here. So far, I hadn’t ventured far from my hotel in downtown Detroit. I’d spent the last week admiring the amazing architecture, shopping in fabulous stores and visiting museums. I relaxed at the manmade beach in the park and tried pizza at a dozen different restaurants. Before I came to Detroit, I preferred a thin crust, but the pizza here was totally addictive. I’d have packed up my life in Scotland and moved to the States for the pepperoni alone.

Everywhere I’d gone, people had been friendly, but something about this place made me think I was about to experience another side of the city. The club looked shady with a capital S.

When I decided to break out of my comfort zone and make the trip across the Atlantic in search of long-lost relatives, I hadn’t imagined my quest would lead me somewhere so unlike anywhere I’d been before. It’s not that I had some moral objection to strip clubs. It was just that Lucky Lola’s Lounge was waving several big red flags at me.

For starters, it was in a run-down area far from the tourist spots. Several buildings on the street had boarded-up windows on the first-floor level. One empty unit looked as if someone had tried to burn it down. Scorch marks blackened the bricks. Most of the cars parked on the street were ready for the scrap heap. One looked as if there was nothing holding it together but rust. Every second streetlight seemed to be out of commission. If it wasn’t for the garish pink neon sign hanging over the door of the club, it would be pretty dark.

The doorman stationed outside the club appeared to be as rough as his surroundings. Heavyset with a severe buzz cut, he looked like he’d gone ten rounds with Anthony Joshua. His nose was flat and squidgy. I guessed it had been broken more than once. With his towering height and muscular build, he was intimidating enough, but he also carried a weapon. One of those jagged-edge hunting knives, it stuck out of the belt of his jeans for anyone to see. Though I knew little about the law in Michigan, I doubted it was legal. It wasn’t as if there were any elk in downtown Detroit.

The cab driver who brought me to the club from my swanky hotel in the Book Cadillac building had asked me a dozen times if I was sure this was where I wanted to go. Now that I was here, I understood. The whole place reeked of lawlessness and neglect. Part of me wanted to turn and flee, but it might be my last chance to track down one of the elusive descendants of my mother’s great-uncle Johnny, so I resisted the urge. Pulling up my big-girl panties, I walked to the door.

As I approached, the doorman tilted his head to one side and studied me, his brow furrowed in confusion.

“You lost, princess?” The words rumbled up from deep inside him.

A princess, I was not, but I guessed not too many people dressed so demurely to visit a strip club. Wanting to make a good impression if I finally tracked down Danny Mulhearn, I’d worn a cute blue floral dress that fell below my knee. On its own, it screamed innocence. Paired with the fluffy white cardigan I brought in case the temperature dipped below sweltering at any point, it was positively angelic. The virginal vibe it gave off was all wrong for this place.

“Yes, I am, unfortunately.”

The doorman flashes me a grim smile that told me no woman found herself at Lola’s unless she’d been extremely unlucky.

“You twenty-one?” he asked.

“Yes.” In fact, I’d turned twenty-three less than a month ago. I hoped he wouldn’t ask me to prove it, though, because I’d left my passport and driver’s license in the safe in my hotel room. Carrying such important documents around with me seemed like a bad idea.

The doorman looked me over once more. He said nothing, but nodded toward the door. Either he took me at my word about my age or he really didn’t care if I was old enough. I suspected it was the latter.

It was too much to expect him to be a gentleman and open the door for me, so I walked past him and entered the club. Expecting to be immediately thrust into a rabble of leering men staring at bare breasts and other body parts, I was relieved to walk into a quiet reception area. A woman, probably around my age, sat behind a counter that looked like it was made of white plastic. Her bright-pink hair clashed violently with the vivid corset she wore.

“Hey!” She smiled warmly as she greeted me. “You lost?”

Well, that confirmed what the doorman thought. I was totally out of place. “I, eh, I’m looking for someone.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“His name’s Danny Mulhearn.”

Her face fell. It wasn’t the first time I’d seen this reaction when I mentioned his name. Clearly, the man was bad news. That should have deterred me, but I’d flown over from Scotland to find a connection with my late mother’s family. Even if he turned out to be an asshole, I wanted to meet him.

“Oh, he doesn’t really come around here anymore.”

Disappointment swamped me as I learned my only lead was out of date, but perhaps it wasn’t a totally lost cause.

“Can I go in and see if anyone knows him?”

“Sure.” She motioned toward the white-leather-padded door to her left.

As I pushed it open, heavy pounding music hit me. It wasn’t as loud as I thought it would be, but I imagined if I stayed in the club too long, I’d end up with a headache. The club seemed busy for a Wednesday night. Dozens of men sat at tables close to the stage. Surprisingly few of them were watching the three scantily clad women who danced for them. Instead, they talked to each other or looked at their phones. A few more people occupied booths at the far side of the room. There was only one guy sitting at the bar, so I took a seat at the opposite end to him. I needed to build up my courage before I asked anyone about Danny.

“What’ll it be?” The bartender came over as I tried to haul myself up onto a high stool. Though taller than the average woman, I still struggled to climb up. Were these seats made for giants?

“Do you have any wine?” I asked as I finally got settled.

The older man’s arched eyebrow said are you shitting me ? He carried the air of someone who’d seen things that would terrify most people.

“Okay, can you make a cocktail, then?” I paused to consider what would be relatively straightforward for him to make. “Like a martini?”

“You want something like a martini, or an actual martini?”

I winced at his gruff tone. The man’s customer service skills were seriously lacking.

“A martini, please.”

He nodded curtly. “That, I can handle.”

The way he rummaged behind the bar made me wonder if he was new. He didn’t appear to know where anything was. Eventually, he found a cocktail shaker and set about making my drink. I noticed he used gin rather than the vodka I prefer. I should have been more specific about my request, but it was too late. There was no way I was asking this guy to start over.

When he was done, he turned to fetch a glass from the shelf behind him. There wasn’t a stemmed glass, so he opted instead to pour my martini into a whiskey tumbler. With a twist of the lips that dared me to challenge him on the presentation and distinct lack of olives, he shoved the glass across the bar to me.

I opened my purse, unsure whether I was supposed to pay for my drink now or if it was the sort of place where I had to start a tab and settle later. I didn’t have to work it out, because a man’s voice suddenly rumbled into my consciousness.

“The lady’s drink is on me.”

“That’s generous, but…” I swiveled in my seat to look at the owner of the deep, seductive voice and found a man standing behind me. Whatever objection I’d been about to raise, it died on my lips the minute my eyes landed on him. He was stunning. Tall, with an athletic build, he wore a beautifully tailored suit in a pale-blue shade that worked well for a warm summer night. His white shirt was open at the neck to reveal lightly tanned skin and a smattering of brown hair, just enough to suggest rugged masculinity but without veering into Yeti territory. If I had to guess, I’d have put him in his late twenties.

His dark, tousled hair gave him that irresistible just rolled out of bed look. His face was angular and clean-shaven. The sharpness of his features might have made him appear mean if it wasn’t for the slightly crooked smile on his full, kissable lips. Thank goodness he had one imperfection because otherwise I’d have thought I was in the presence of a god.

“Mind if I join you?” He was already easing himself onto the stool next to me, so I guessed the question was rhetorical. Something about his manner told me this man didn’t ask permission. He raised his hand to get the bartender’s attention. “Bring me a beer, Jojo.”

He knew the bartender’s name. Did that mean he was a regular at the club? That would be a black mark against him if he was.

“Do you come here often?” I winced as the cliché left my lips.

He shook his head. “I call in now and then, when I have business in the area.”

His attention was diverted from me as the bartender set a bottle of beer down next to him. It wasn’t a brand I recognized. My companion took a sip and grimaced. Why did I think beer was not his usual drink? The bottle didn’t sit right in his hand. It was too casual for a man who carried his air of sophistication. I could picture him with a glass of the finest whiskey my homeland had to offer, one of the more exclusive Macallans, perhaps.

“I’m Ciaran, by the way.”

“Annie,” I offered in return. It was actually Annabelle, but I’d always hated my full name. Next to the Islas and Sarahs I was at school with, it sounded pretentious.

“Annie? That’s cute.” His smile almost melted my panties. “So, what brings you to a place like this, Annie?”

“I’m on vacation.”

His eyebrows lifted. “You’re staying somewhere around here?”

“No.” I refrained from adding an indignant of course not in case he lived in the neighborhood. The way he was dressed, I doubted it, but you never know. “I’m staying in a hotel downtown.” I didn’t tell him which one. Sexy or not, the man was a stranger.

“This place is off the beaten track for a tourist.”

“Yes, it is.” I sipped my drink, and my eyes widened. It was stronger than I thought it would be, heavy on the vermouth. “It’s certainly different.”

Ciaran nodded. “So, where are you from, Annie?”

“Scotland, a small town just outside of Aberdeen.” There was no point elaborating. He’d probably never heard of Aberdeen, never mind Inverurie. “This is my first trip to America.”

“And you picked Detroit?” He couldn’t hide his disbelief.

“Nothing wrong with Detroit.” Aside from this dump, the city had been amazing, surpassing my admittedly low expectations.

“Of course not.” His tone was defensive. “I love my hometown, but most people would pick New York for their first visit, wouldn’t they? Or Disneyland?”

He had a point. When I told people I was flying to the States, they assumed I’d be going to one of those places. “Maybe, but I’m trying to track down some distant family members who live here.”

Ciaran smiled. “Let me guess. You did one of those ancestry things, the DNA test?”

“No, I mean, yes.” I had done one of those in the past. “But I didn’t find anyone in Detroit through that. I’m going by the stories my mother told me.”

“Oh, did your mom come with you?”

A lump formed in my throat, the loss still raw. “No, she died six months ago.”

Ciaran reached over and rubbed my arm reassuringly before sitting back again, putting some space between us.

“Anyway,” I continued, breaking our moment of connection, “she always wanted to track down her grandfather’s family. I thought it would be nice to find them.”

“Family’s important.” Ciaran took a swig of his beer and grimaced. “So, who is it you’re looking for?”

“A distant cousin. His name’s Danny Mulhearn.”

“Danny Mulhearn.” Ciaran’s tone was suddenly flatter. “He’s Irish. I thought you said you were from Scotland.”

“I am, but my great-grandfather came from Dublin. He moved to Detroit with his brother, but only stayed a month. He didn’t like it much, so he decided to try his luck in Scotland. When he met my great grandma, he fell head over heels in love and married her.”

“But his brother stayed here?”

“He did. He settled down and raised a family. Danny’s the only name my mom could remember. I came here tonight because a guy I met at the ice rink told me I might be able to find him here.”

“Ice rink?” Ciaran asked.

“The arena, uh, Little Caesar’s Arena.” Why did I say that as if I didn’t expect him to have heard of it? The man just told me this was his hometown. “My mother remembered hearing that Danny’s father operated the ice-scraping thing there.”

“You mean the Zamboni?”

“Yes, that’s it. Anyway, he retired years ago, apparently, but this security guard knew Danny. He suggested I try here.”

Ciaran pinched the bridge of his nose with his forefinger and thumb as if I was giving him a headache.

“So, let me get this straight. You’ve been running all over the city, asking about the Mulhearns. Some random guy told you you’d find him at a strip club and you came on your own to this shithole neighborhood to look for him. Is that what you’re telling me?”

I bristled at the tone of his voice. We’d only met a few minutes ago. The man had no right to chastise me.

“I know it was risky, but I’ve gotten nowhere so far, and I fly home the day after tomorrow.”

“Why didn’t you just track your relatives down online?”

Admittedly, that would have been easier and a hell of a lot less expensive.

“I thought it would be more fun to do it the old-fashioned way, you know, putting in the legwork. I suppose I was looking for an adventure.”

“Adventure?” Ciaran scoffed. He set down his beer bottle and leaned closer to me. “Listen, Annie, you seem like a sweet girl, so I’m going to give you some advice. Don’t bother looking for Danny Mulhearn. Whatever it is you need, he can’t give it to you.”

“But…”

“No buts, sweetheart. My associate will take you back to your hotel.” He pointed to a tall blond man roughly the same age as him, who was standing by the door. In a black suit and tie, despite the lingering heat, he looked like an undertaker. The grim expression on his face certainly didn’t help. “Tomorrow, you’ll do a little shopping or visit a gallery, whatever it is you like to do. Then you’ll get on your plane, go home and tell everyone you failed to find your family, but had fun trying.”

My mouth fell open in shock. How dare he dictate to me like that? “I…”

“I’m not done.” The command in his voice killed my protest.

I shouldn’t have found the authoritarian tone hot, but my traitorous thighs clenched anyway.

“If you disobey me, I will find out about it. Be a good girl and our paths won’t cross again. If they do, I’ll spank your ass raw. Do you understand?”

Shock ricocheted through me. No man had ever threatened to spank me before. I started to ask who the hell he thought he was, but I was frozen. And I couldn’t deny the way his offhanded threat had affected me.

“Do you understand?” Ciaran repeated when I didn’t answer quickly enough.

I gulped loudly. “Yes, I understand.”

“Good.” He rose from his chair.

I expected him to walk away, but he didn’t. He muttered something under his breath that might have been a curse. Then he bent to kiss me. His lips were soft and warm as they brushed over mine with a tenderness that made my toes curl. He curved a hand around the back of my neck and held me in place as he deepened the kiss. His tongue pushed past my lips, and my breath hitched.

Just as I started to kiss him back, he pulled away, smiling at me with what I assumed was regret. “It was nice meeting you, Annie.”

This time, he walked off, leaving me with my heart in my throat and my panties in a bunch. I stared after him like a lovesick schoolgirl as he crossed the club to speak to the man he said would take me home. After a brief exchange, Ciaran disappeared through the exit. The temptation to follow him almost overwhelmed me, but a stronger desire to hold on to my dignity rooted me to the spot.

“Come on, Miss,” his employee said as he approached me. “There’s nothing for you here.”

Sadly, he was right. As he took my arm, his grip was firm enough to show he meant business, but not firm enough to hurt me. A heavy weight settled in my chest as we headed to the door. It was odd. I’d only just met Ciaran, but leaving I felt as if I’d lost something. Him walking away after that bone-melting kiss hurt more than it should have. Tears threatened to fall, but I blinked them back. The sooner I could fly home and put this trip behind me, the better.