Chapter Seventeen #2
“All the fucking time,” I blew out. “In fact, we rarely see eye to eye on things. They’re a lot more serious than I am.” Probably why they were always telling me off for shit.
Guilt wormed its way into my chest at the memory of my last interaction with Aleksandr. At how I ignored him when he tried to say goodbye. I hated how I’d left things, and wanted so desperately to fix our bond.
Will I ever get that chance?
“Yeah, Lev is kind of the same,” she said with a small laugh. “I think older siblings are innately born that way. I just want to have fun and enjoy my life. Lev is hell-bent on fulfilling this stupid mission he’s had since we were kids.”
“What mission?”
For the first time, unease flickered through her eyes. Lyla adjusted in her chair, avoiding my gaze, and abruptly changed the subject. “We should get ready to leave. There’s a few stores I want to take you to before they close.”
Something wasn’t right. She was actively hiding something from me—something I had a feeling I wouldn’t like, and it filled me with trepidation.
I opened my mouth to protest, but the bell hanging over the door dinged, new patrons walking in.
Loud, rowdy voices hit the air not a second later.
It was a group of four—all men—that pack mentality vibrating from them.
They whooped and hollered, patting each other on the back and cheering them on for God knows what reason.
Cedric looked over the top of his newspaper, eyes narrowing. He kept his gaze on them as they made their way to the register. A man with a mohawk leaned against the counter, chewing his gum obnoxiously loudly.
He slapped a palm down onto the surface. “Hey! Can I get some service here? It’s like you don’t want paying customers.”
The men at his back laughed as if he’d just told the funniest joke ever.
Heidi emerged from the back kitchen, the smile on her face dropping the second she got a glimpse at the new customers. “We-we paid you already.”
Paid? The frown on Lyla’s brows told me she was just as confused and curious as I was.
“That was last week. I’m here for the payment for this week.”
“What?” Heidi breathed, eyes widening. “But I—that’s not—I can’t—” Her voice cracked with distress, and her gaze flitted to the other men, who were making their way behind the counter as if they had every right to be there. Like they owned the fucking place.
She backed up until her spine hit the wall behind her, shaking with fear. The men helped themselves to food, dipping their hands into tall glass vases filled with cookies and pastries, taking a few bites only to throw whatever was left at each other, laughing boisterously.
There were four other customers in the café; a couple—a man and a woman—an elderly gentleman, and a teenager. They all got up and hurried out without looking back.
So much for that town camaraderie Lyla spoke of. It was clear Heidi was being hustled, and not one of them stuck around to help her.
Lyla watched the events unfold with critical eyes. There was a barely recognizable shift within her. She was still smiling. Still emitting an outward, friendly demeanor, but a darkness had settled over her eyes—a darkness I was all too familiar with. A darkness that turned me right the fuck on.
Will she intervene?
I was kind of hoping she would. A part of me wanted to see her in action properly. That little fight we’d gotten into back at the house wasn’t enough for me to gauge how skilled she truly was.
However, another part of me didn’t want that at all because I knew what would happen. I knew my horny, deranged ass wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off her if she was covered in the blood of someone she’d just killed.
Hey, we all had our kinks. Mine just so happened to be a little more twisted than the average joe.
Murder turned me on. Fucking sue me.
“Please, stop.” Heidi trembled.
“Oh, we’ll stop. Once we get our money.” Mohawk used one finger to push a glass jar until it fell off the counter, smashing into a million pieces. “Whoops.” He laughed.
The other men took that as their cue to start destroying things. They knocked over the decor. Other display jars filled with food. Dropped glass plates and mugs on the floor just to watch them shatter.
A man with spiky blonde hair started knocking over tables and chairs, laughing as he did so. His friend joined in, using the tip of a baseball bat in his hands to push the furniture over. His arms rose, preparing to strike a picture frame sitting on a side table—
“No!” Heidi ran out from behind the counter and stood in front of it, protecting it. “Please. Don’t. I’ll give you your money. Just, please. Don’t destroy anything else.”
Baseball Bat looked at Mohawk, the bat still hefted up into the air.
“Get me money then,” Mohawk told Heidi.
She nodded, running back to the counter. With a ding, the register opened. Her hands shook as she pulled out note after note and handed them to the ringleader. He smiled like a cheshire cat, counting the cash like he’d just won big.
“Good. Same amount next week.”
“Yo, hold up, Darrell,” Spiky Hair called out when Mowhawk went to walk out. “I’m starving. Get the bitch to make us some food.”
Darrell clicked his fingers. “You know what? I think that’s the smartest idea you’ve ever had, Ben.
” He looked at Heidi. “Bring us a couple burgers and fries. Don’t be stingy on the fucking salt, either.
” Heidi disappeared into the kitchen. Laughing and shoving each other in some kind of comradery, they all sat down, lounging across different tables.
“You seen them before?” I asked Lyla.
She shook her head. “No. But we’re about to become very familiar.”
Fuck. I adjusted myself discreetly, my cock already starting to grow hard because of that murdery fucking look on her face. I was screwed.
A few minutes later, Heidi emerged from the kitchen, another woman in a chef’s outfit following close behind her.
Plates filled with food balanced effortlessly on their forearms despite the fact their bodies trembled with fear.
One by one, they placed the plates down on the tables.
A few of the men took liberties they had no right to take, slapping Heidi and the other woman on the ass.
My gaze flicked to Lyla again. An eerie kind of calmness had settled over her. She’d done nothing but watch so far, and to be honest, I was a bit surprised. Even I felt like doing something, and I didn’t even know them.
Heidi approached our table. “I am so sorry about that,” she whispered, clearing her throat. Her eyes were red and glassy. “Is there anything else I can get you?”
“Just the bill. Thanks, Heidi,” Lyla responded.
“Of course.” She pulled out a small black book from inside her apron and placed it down on the table. “Whenever you’re ready.”
She turned to leave. Lyla reached forward, grabbing her arm. Heidi paused, glancing over her shoulder. “Who are those men?” Lyla asked calmly.
Heidi bit her lip anxiously. She lowered her voice to barely above a whisper, and I was forced to lean forward, resting both elbows onto the table, to hear her clearly.
“They moved to town a few weeks ago. Told me if I wanted to keep the café safe, I had to pay them. I did. I didn’t want them destroying the place or hurting the customers.
I’m not the only one either. They’ve threatened every owner on the block, demanding cash.
Roland, the old man who runs the antique bookstore across the street, tried to fight them.
Told them he wasn’t going to pay them anything. They broke his leg.”
It was a shakedown. I’d seen it numerous times in Vegas. Small-time gangs would go into establishments and demand a payment. As long as that payment was made, it would keep the business safe from any reprisals from the gang.
“Hmm.” Lyla shoved a couple hundred-dollar bills into the black book and handed it back to Heidi. “You got a back office in here with a lock?”
The kid frowned, no doubt confused by the random as fuck question. “Behind the kitchen. It’s where we keep the safe.”
“Take yourself in there and lock the door. Don’t come out until I say so.”
“No, no, no. I don’t want any trouble,” she rushed out.
“There’s no trouble.” Lyla smiled, and it was a purely evil and vindictive smile. “Quick. Off ya go.”
Heidi hesitated for only a moment longer before she did as instructed, running off. I glimpsed her grasp the chef’s hand, and they both disappeared into the kitchen.
Lyla finally looked at me. “Fancy a fight?”
Say no. Say no. I shrugged a shoulder lazily. “Why the fuck not?”