25 Cutter
AUBIE DOESN’T DANCE ON WEDNESDAYS, which should have made going to work easier.
Should have.
Because that’s not the case. I could blame my foul mood on the fact that I managed a whole two hours of sleep after I got home, or the sorry state of my relationship with Daryl, who I’m still avoiding, but that’s only part of the story.
The truth is, I’m confused. How can I want to be with someone and want to avoid them at the same time? I knew going over there was risky. All my hope of ‘getting it out of my system’ was a joke. And if I’m being honest, I knew that going in.
I felt something. Something I never experienced before, even with Amber. A kind of connection that meant more than just the physical relief of sex. Maybe I wasn’t able to admit it before now, but with Amber, sex began to feel like a duty. Like something to get through.
I didn’t get any of that with Aubie. Every word, every touch hit like a first time. Like something to be savored. When I was inside him, I felt like that was where I was supposed to be.
I don’t know what that means going forward, and sitting here in the parking lot after everyone’s gone arguing with myself isn’t making it any clearer.
Do I want to see him again? Do I think it’s a good idea?
The answer to both should be no. We’re from entirely different worlds. Plus I have no business even considering any kind of relationship until I get my personal life in order.
But I can still hear his wanton moans.
Can still feel his tight heat wrapped around my cock.
How do you ignore something that feels that good?
Even after I talk myself into going home and crawling into my lonely bed, I can’t silence the voices in my head. I can’t stop the need to see him. To hear him saying my name in that erotic way that curls my toes.
Sleep doesn’t come at all. I stare at the ceiling while the minutes slowly tick by, looking for answers to silence my aching need.
I consider jerking off, but it’s not my hand I want to feel on my cock.
By the time morning rolls around I’m in an even worse mood. Two nights without sleep will do that.
I go for a run, hoping the endorphins will clear my head. Take a long shower and give in to the temptation to rub one out.
Doesn’t help.
I even stop at my favorite deli on my way to the club to grab a quick bite. The food tastes like cardboard in my mouth. The day outside is cold and grey, promising snow, which perfectly reflects my mood.
Judging by the parking lot, only Renee is here, which means I still have time before I have to face Javi’s relentless optimism.
I’ve got one more interview today, and as much as I hate the hiring process, I know I need to get my head out of my ass and get this done because the threat isn’t going away.
Mafia bosses aren’t known for their diplomacy.
I’ve psyched myself up to do my job, then the thought sneaks in like a fly ball to left field.
Aubie dances tonight.
I’m torn between anticipation and dread. The thought of people seeing him, of them getting off on his stage antics, stirs a darkness inside me. I refuse to call it jealousy. I have no right to it. No control over what he does or who he does it with.
Doesn’t mean I like it, and I like it even less the closer it gets to the time he takes the stage.
I get through the interview. Get through opening the club and making sure everything is running smoothly, the hundred little duties that make up my job serving as a distraction until the clock approaches showtime.
I can’t watch him strip. Not if I’m going to be able to function the rest of the night. Just knowing he’s in the building is driving me crazy.
There is one thing I need to do, and I’ve been putting it off all night. I take the long way around, avoiding the main house. There’s no one in the hall when I approach the door. I take a deep breath and give two short knocks before opening it and poking my head in.
“Can I come in?”
Daryl looks up from whatever he’s doing on his laptop and nods. “Of course.”
He closes the computer and waits in silence while I slip inside and take a seat on the couch. I’ve never been good at apologies, especially when I don’t think I was entirely at fault.
“I’m sorry for my behavior the other night. I should have given you a chance to explain before storming out.”
A smirk teases his lips. “How hard was that?”
“I don’t need your snark.”
“I thought this was an apology.”
I bite back a retort because he’s right. Besides, seeing as how he’s one of the few friends I have and is currently my employer, I can’t afford to alienate him. I decide to forego any more discussion of who’s right or wrong and get to why I’m here.
“I thought you’d want to know I made my decision on who I’m hiring.”
He sits back and folds his hands on the desk. “When can they start?”
“I told them next Tuesday. I’d rather not bring them on over the weekend.”
“Good thinking.”
We sit in silence for a couple of minutes, then Daryl sighs. “I didn’t say anything for the same reason I didn’t back then, and for that I’m sorry. It never sat right with me.”
“Can you at least tell me what it was?”
He looks pensive. “I could, but I really think Callum should be made to explain himself directly to you. If that means you have to break your silence with him, so be it. But I’m not letting him off the hook.”
As much as I don’t want to, I can almost understand that. Callum has never had to face the consequences of his actions for anything. Doesn’t change the fact that Daryl also owes me something as his friend. “So you knew?”
“Not that, no.”
“But you knew something?”
“Talk to your brother. It’s his mess.”
“Am I going to hate you when I find out?”
He quirks a brow. “That’s up to you. Just know there were threats involved.”
“Callum threatened you?”
He murmurs something I don’t hear, suddenly focused on the screens above me. I turn around to see what’s got his attention, hoping it isn’t a certain dancer.
“Is that one of ours?” he asks when I see what he’s looking at. A figure is slinking between the cars in the back parking lot, his face hidden by an oversized hoodie. Something about the way he moves sets my inner alarm blaring. I pull out my phone and call Javi.
“Yeah?” he answers.
“Is Blair working the back parking lot?”
He hesitates. “As a matter of fact, he just came in to grab a coffee to warm up. It’s cold as fuck out there. You want to talk to him?”
I bite my tongue to keep from taking it out on him. “No. Hopefully it’s nothing.” I end the call and stand up, heading for the door.
“Where are you going?” Daryl asks, tearing his gaze away from the screen.
“To check it out.”
“You should take someone with you,” he calls as I duck out the door.
“I’ll be fine.” I push down my frustration about Blair, appeasing myself that I only have one more week with him, and make my way to the back door.
Javi was right, it is cold as hell tonight and I don’t have my coat. I hear a crunch when I step outside and look down to see the fragments of a busted light. A scan of the parking lot reveals the same fate for the light pole in the middle. No wonder it’s so dark out here.
I wait for my eyes to adjust then head off in the direction I saw the man, senses alert. Probably some kid looking to break into cars. I spot movement out of the corner of my eye.
“Whoever you are,” I call out, “this is private property and we will prosecute.”
I approach the first row of cars and look up and down the aisle before advancing to the next one. I’m two steps in when the unmistakable snick of a switchblade sends a shiver up my spine. I start to turn toward the sound when someone grabs me from behind.
“What the–?”
A gloved hand clamps over my mouth while a gruff voice taunts, “Not so tough now, are you?”
I get a whiff of cheap cologne, wine and garlic. The latter gives me a clue of who I’m dealing with. Which means he isn’t here to rob cars. I try to jerk away and the grip tightens.
“Didn’t take you for the stupid type.”
“You’re one to talk,” I fire back. “You know you’re on camera? My men are probably calling the cops right now.”
He offers a grim chuckle. “You mean that pantywaste you call a guard? He walked by me twice without a clue I was here.”
Fucking Blair. How did he get a job guarding celebrities?
“If you hired him to protect your boss from me, you failed.”
I feel it then, the tip of a blade pressing against my back.
Adrenalin suddenly floods my system, my fight or flight reflex roaring to life.
He may be mafia, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to let him stab me in a parking lot.
I call on the moves I used in my streetfighting days and suck in a deep breath then jerk both arms straight up and out.
The move surprises him, allowing me to break his hold and spin away to face him.
I can see enough of his face behind the hood to recognize him as one of Scarponi’s thugs from the restaurant. “What the fuck do you want?” I demand, backing up.
“I think you know the answer to that. Your boss does not dictate terms to Mr. Scarponi.”
I snort, still riding the wave of adrenalin. I don’t have a weapon, but I have no doubt Daryl is watching and has probably called Javi. I just need to stall for time. “As I recall, it was Scarponi who said, and I quote, ‘we can’t do business.’ So why don’t we just talk this out?”
His grin is pure evil. “Nice try, but your friends won’t get here in time to stop this.” He lunges forward before I can react, his fist arching toward my stomach.
I don’t feel it at first. Don’t even realize what happened until he pulls back and shows me the knife dripping with blood.
My blood.
“Fuck,” I gulp, reaching for the wound. I feel something warm and sticky coating my fingers and glance down as I hear the back door shut then a familiar voice shouts, “Hey! What are you doing?”
Aubie?
No, go back inside.
The thug gives me one more wicked chuckle before adding, “Next time it’ll be your heart.” He turns and sprints off into the darkness as Aubie runs toward me.
“Cutter!”
My head suddenly feels too heavy for my body and my vision is kind of cutting in and out. In fact, sitting down sounds like a good idea right now. I sink to my knees as Aubie reaches me.
His arms close around me. “Jesus, what did he do?” He grabs for the hand pressed to my wound and sucks in a gasp as my blood bubbles up.
“Fuck, baby.” He drags the scarf from around his neck and balls it up, pressing it against the wound and wrapping his other arm around me.
“I think I might need a hospital,” I slur.
“No, no, no,” he whimpers as he fumbles his phone out of his pocket and drops it. “Not again. Please, not again.”
It’s too hard to follow what he’s saying. Where is my coat? I’m freezing. Aubie’s still mumbling about something, and now I hear another voice. Footsteps approaching.
“We’ve got to call 911,” Aubie cries.
“There’s no time. I’ll get my car.”
Daryl.
He disappears and a moment later I hear a car engine.
A door opening. Between the two of them, they get me into the back seat.
Aubie keeps his hand pressed to my gut as the car rocks forward.
Daryl says something I don’t catch, and Aubie answers.
Their voices are muffled, like they’re coming from underwater.
I fight to keep my eyes open, but it’s getting hard. Darkness is easier.
“Stay with me, Cutter,” Aubie sobs. “Don’t you dare die on me.”
That’s the last thing I hear before I surrender to the pull of silence.