10. In the Shadows
~ brIDGET ~
Crossing the bar towards those pool tables, I couldn’t resist letting my hips sway a little, just because I knew Kash would be watching, but of course, the guy at the pool table noticed too, and followed my progress with his eyes, so I had to pretend that was just how I walked.
His gaze dragged down my body as I got close enough and the hair on the back of my neck stood up.
Excellent!
“I heard you wanted to talk? What’s your name?” I asked the guy, leaning my hip against the pool table and folding my arms to emphasize my chest.
Between the hair, the piercings, and the vintage punk look, I’d expected him to be an awkward, angry man. So it was a surprise when he shot me a dark grin, set the chalk down on the pool table and turned away from me to take his shot without responding.
I waited a second while the balls cracked, but I wasn’t letting Stonewash Steve dominate me here, so without another word, I pushed off the table and turned around to leave.
“I heard you’re looking for someone to hurt you.”
Hunt, actually. But close enough.
I stopped walking and turned, but kept my unimpressed expression. “I’m looking for someone with a very particular set of skills. Not a sadist with an inferiority complex.”
He nodded. “I’m happy to hear you know the difference.”
“Do you?”
He dropped his chin and grinned and for a split second that jawline looked familiar. My pulse began to race.
No.
No way. He couldn’t be Cain. Cain wouldn’t let me see his face. But that jawline…
My breathing got shallower and I turned to fully face him. He noticed and his smile got bigger.
“I’m working at a local place,” he said in a low, dark voice as he moved around the table to take another shot.
I nodded. “How’s Valerie doing these days? It’s been a while.”
There was more stubble on his jaw than I’d seen reflected in that window. I couldn’t tell if that made his jaw seem stronger, or if the shadows were just playing tricks on my mind.
Had Cain had his lip pierced? I didn’t think so, but it was on the side that had been turned more away from me…
He arched one brow, but smiled as he shook his head. “Val is… Val. She’s got a lot going on.”
“Including inviting east coasters to come play with our rich kids?”
He locked eyes with me. “I have a very unique set of skills.”
“Sure you do. So skilled and successful that you’re drinking in a dive bar on a Friday.”
He stared at me a second, then shrugged and leaned his pool cue against the table before reaching into his back pocket. I liked the way his bicep curled, and how his sleeves-cut-off t- shirt pulled against his chest when he reached back like that. But I didn’t let it show on my face as he pulled out his wallet and opened it.
He had man-hands. Big knuckles, calluses, tendons that stood proud and continued up his forearms, a visible power that was almost elegantly reduced in fine motor-skills. The kind of hands that had dexterity and brute strength. They could thread a needle, or choke you to death.
I love man-hands.
My heart pattered.
Unaware of my breathlessness, the guy pulled a card from his wallet, held it pinned between his first two fingers and extended it to me.
I took it and ignored the way he watched me while I read it.
Sid Vicious
The Conductor
Invitation for One
Swallowing a chortle at the name—what was this guy on?—I offered it back to him. “I don’t need an invitation. I’m already on the list.”
“You will if you want to get into my den.”
I blinked. “She gave you a private den?”
He smiled again and gave one of those humble-brag shrugs. “I told you, special skill set. Only limited numbers can participate on any given night.”
I snorted. “Excellent marketing. You should run courses on How to Give Rich People FOMO.”
He smirked, but didn’t respond.
I was still holding the card out for him, but he returned his wallet to his back pocket and picked up his pool cue again.
“I work Saturday to Wednesday. You should stop by.”
I blinked again and prayed my shock didn’t show on my face. “Valerie’s letting you skip the two most popular nights of the week?”
“Like I said, only limited numbers each night. I work better with the smaller crowds.”
Or you’ve only got a limited draw.
But then again, that fringe, niche stuff was what I usually liked the best.
He leaned down on the table to aim his cue, and with his body stretched out like and his t-shirt hugging his back muscles, he looked like a big cat… If a cat had an obsession with eighties punk rock and fashion that was almost back in style.
“I’ll keep it in mind,” I said, tucking the card into my back pocket, and not missing how his eyes cut up to my breasts when my shirt pulled tight.
Tit for tat was only fair.
“Enjoy your game,” I said breezily as I turned to walk away.
He snorted, but didn’t respond.
Then I stopped like I’d forgotten something and faced him again, but kept walking slowly backwards. “What’s your real name?”
“Ronald,” he said without missing a beat. He sent that cue snapping forward and the balls cracked on the table again, two of them finding their goals.
“Ah, that explains it,” I said, turning away again, grinning.
“Explains what?” he called after me.
“Why you thought that Dom name was cool. Your baseline reference is terrible.”
He snorted. “What’s your name, then?”
“I’m sure you already know. We’ll get along better if you don’t pretend otherwise.”
“Goodnight, Bridget.”
“There you go.”
“See you next week.”
“Maybe.”
But the way my heart was pumping, it was possible.
Especially if Cain made me wait.
Just to piss Kash off, I sat through three ginger beers, talking to Art and flirting with the drunks who passed through.
The panic that had settled under my skin had passed—mostly. The interaction with Ronald and the potential of that whole situation helped a lot. If Cain didn’t make contact, I had something to distract me.
For a second, I saw Gerald in my head, taking off his glasses and shaking his head, his lips puckered like he’d tasted something sour as he tried to come up with the right words to express his exasperation. But I pushed the image away because he might get parts of me, but he didn’t understand this.
Then a shadow moved to my left and I snapped my head around, my heart racing—only to find Georgio, the mob guy’s thug, leaning on the bar, smiling at me.
Well, shit.
“Hey, B. You look great tonight.”
“George,” I said dryly without looking at him. “You look exactly the same as you always do.”
“Thanks, babe,” he beamed and I had to turn away to take another swig from my third ginger beer to hide the eye roll. Poor Georgio was very big, and very strong, and not very smart.
He turned so his shoulder pressed up against mine and tipped his chin to Kash to order a drink. I shifted my seat so we weren’t pressed together and suddenly became very aware that I was going to need to use the disgusting ladies room.
I always waited—or skipped those little trips if I could—because so few women frequented this place, we were lucky if Kash threw a mop around it once a week.
I’d taken it on myself for three years to restock toilet paper and wipe down the sinks every time I visited. But my bladder was swelling to near-painful proportions, which meant I was going to have to use the bathroom before I cleaned it. And that was going to be gross.
Better than wetting on my stool, though.
When Georgio got his Italian soda and warning look from Kash—because he was both a walking cliché and responsible for the mob man’s wellbeing, which apparently he took very seriously—he took a sip, then grinned at me.
“It’s good to see you, beautiful. You feeling better?”
That panic under my skin gave a crackle, and I launched off the stool. “You’ll have to excuse me, I need to pee. Kash, can you make sure George doesn’t touch my drink. I don’t feel like swimming with the fishes tonight.”
Kash nodded once and George snorted. But I was fleeing. I felt eyes on my back and knew Sid was still over there watching.
Would he come after me? The little hallway down to the bathrooms was almost entirely black because the bare overhead bulb had been broken and Kash didn’t care enough to replace it.
I looked over my shoulder, tracked that Sid was far enough away he couldn’t get to me before I got through the door I could lock, so the only real danger would be when I came back.
The bitch in me smiled at him, made sure he caught it, then turned away and hurried into the little black hallway and pushed open the sticky door into the ladies, whirling to lock it, then darted to the first stall because if I didn’t I might actually piss my pants.
A couple minutes later, relieved, but still battling a small wave of panic, I washed my hands, then found the wipes and stuff under the sink and busied myself with removing the worst of the grime from around the faucets and the edge of the sink.
I couldn’t bring myself to touch those toilets though, so after putting an extra roll of toilet paper in each stall, I just washed my hands again and checked my reflection in the freckled, cracked mirror, then took a deep breath.
The hallway outside this door was approximately fifteen feet long. The first ten feet or so were pitch black except for the light that came out from under the bathroom doors. When I opened it, I’d get a couple seconds of light, but lowered visibility because of the sudden change in brightness—then it would go pitch black and I’d be aiming for the place where the hallway opened to the main bar, which would have some light, though dim.
If Sid was coming for me, he’d do the smart thing and hide behind the bathroom since I’d walk out looking towards the bar.
I smiled and cracked my knuckles. Come at me, bro. I stood for a few seconds with my eyes closed so my retinas wouldn’t be confused by the sudden change in light, then unlocked the door and strode out into the black, the skin on the back of my neck prickling as I darted towards the bar, but half-turned to see if I could make out anything coming for me from the other direction.
It all happened so fast, I’m not sure I breathed.
There was a sickeningly dark, “Hey there,” from beside me in the hallway that made me suck in and step sideways, twisting to evade hands I couldn’t really see.
As they closed on my elbow, I whipped that arm in a circle to break the grip, grabbing the thick forearm and yanking the dude closer as I swung my leg high enough to take him in the temple—I hoped.
But even though I’d moved like a snake, my leg was only halfway up when a different shadow appeared from nowhere, grabbed me at the waist and flung me sideways.
I stumbled, getting my hands up only just in time to protect me from slamming face-first into the wall, still banging my nose hard enough to see stars for a second, blinking to clear my now watery eyes—then whirling to put my back to the wall and use it for leverage.
But then I froze.
The two shadows had melded and were grunting, moving. I couldn’t see enough to know who was winning—or who I wanted to win—but I registered that two men had come for me and that was my cue to get the fuck out of here.
I pushed off the wall, the sole of those flimsy heels slipping on the cement floor as I tried to run, but ended up pitching back instead as my foot slid out from under me.
There was a strangled, choking sound, then the thud of a heavy body hitting the floor to my right.
Shit.
I got my feet under me and ran, but I was too late.
One thick arm curled around my middle, while a calloused hand clapped over my mouth, and I was pinned against that wall again.
My pulse pounded in my ear as I tried to scream and clawed at the hand, but then a stubbled jaw scraped against my ear and a rasping, deep voice spat, “Run.”
A voice that I recognized.
I was flung sideways again, but this time towards the bar, and one hand stayed at my back, making sure I kept my feet.
“Fucking run, Bridget,” he growled.
Adrenaline slammed through my system. I didn’t think. Didn’t look. Just took off like a rabbit with a wolf on her tail, straight through the bar, ignoring Kash’s shout as I grabbed the end of the bar for leverage to take the corner faster, then sprinted down the other hallway to the staff entrance.
I hit the bar on that door with my full weight, throwing it open and running out—almost flying off the steps, then turning my ankle a little when I hit the uneven cement at the bottom.
But one look over my shoulder showed an empty, well-lit hallway and no shadow pursuing.
I dug into my little purse for my keys, hitting the unlock button while I was still running and almost pitched right over my toes and left skin on the cement when I looked over my shoulder again.
Nothing.
I caught my balance, ran into the driver’s door hard enough that the bang echoed in the alley, then threw the door open and jumped inside, plunging the key into the ignition. The car roared to life and I peeled out, the engine whining as I reversed way too fast for the narrow space. But I slammed on the brakes before my back bumper kissed the building on the other side of the alley, cranked the wheel, and tore out of there and into the street, ignoring the red light one block down and pushing through and away until I saw the signs for the highway and the only sound other than the grinding engine, was my breathing, heavy, wheezing inside the car.