Chapter 11
Samantha
I checked on Mac tonight and stitched up a few soldiers at Sandro’s house who’d gotten in a tussle with one of the local gangs.
Now I’m pacing my apartment, trying to decide what to do.
The idea that Michael has found me is like a seed that has taken root in my brain, and every day it grows, threatening to choke the breath from me.
If I can’t make money dancing for Killian, I need to find another way.
There can’t be any paperwork. No jobs that require my social security number or fake driver’s license, no loans.
The prickling starts in my eyes. Maybe I could ask Sandro for a loan?
I scoff. Sure, get in debt to a mafia boss. That’s a great idea.
I squeeze my eyes shut. I will not cry. I will think. I will plan. I will find a way for my daughter to be safe.
A sharp knock on the door startles me. I freeze.
Would Michael knock? Or would he just bust down the door?
The knock comes again. More insistent. Oh God, why haven’t I bought a gun. Or just asked Sandro for one? I glance around and see the butcher knife laying where I left it after cutting my turkey sandwich in half.
I tiptoe over and grip it in my trembling hand, then make my way over to the door. There’s not even a peep hole. I lay my ear against it, trying to listen for a sound, a voice, anything to tell me who it is. Maybe it’s a pizza delivery and they have the wrong apartment?
The pounding comes again. I squeal and jump back. Then the fear morphs to anger. “Who is it?” I yell.
“Killian. Open up.” His voice is clear through the thin door.
“Shit,” I whisper. How did he find me? What’s he doing here? I look down at myself in a white tank with no bra and pink boy-shorts. It’s hot as hell in here. Oh well, he’s seen me in less. With a deep breath, I unlock the deadbolt, undo the chain and open the door.
He’s in black cargo pants and a charcoal gray T-shirt.
One hand is stretched up to hold the top of the doorframe, the other shoved in his pocket.
When our eyes meet, his mouth tilts up in a lazy smile.
“Hello, Vixen.” His gaze runs like molasses down my body to the large knife in my hand.
“Are ya goin’ to stab me or invite me in? ”
I shift my weight to my other foot and cock a hip. “Depends. What are you doing here?”
He holds my gaze. “You left without hearin’ if you got the job.”
It takes me a few seconds to process his words. The job. Is it still possible? “Right.” I step back and motion for him to come in.
He strolls inside, muscles twitch along his jawline as he glances around.
I clear my throat and return the knife to the chopping board.
Folding my arms, I lean against the kitchen counter and watch as he casually walks around the place, taking it all in.
His expression is neutral when he turns back to me, but I see the questions burning in his eyes as he comes to stand on the other side of the counter.
“What are you doin’ here? I know Sandro pays you better than this.”
No one knows about Rona. I asked Sandro’s father not to tell anyone about her, and it’ll stay that way. But maybe if I can give Killian something to let him know I do need the money? Maybe he’ll give me the job then. “I have… other obligations I have to take care of.”
He nods. His eyes stay locked on me as a bead of sweat rolls down the side of his face. “And these… obligations… are why you need money?”
I can see him softening so I tell him the truth. “Yes.”
He leans his palms on the counter, the muscle in his forearms flexing as he puts weight on them. “And you’re not going to share these obligations?”
Before I can stop my brain, it conjures up an image of me beneath him as he holds himself above me like that. I push it away in a flurry of panic. “It’s not any of your business.”
“Not my business. Right.” He holds eye contact, a myriad of emotions flickering there like sun and shadows on the surface of the sea, and then blows out a long breath as he straightens back to his full height.
“Look, you’re obviously talented. So, I have a proposition for you.
” His eyes flick over my body and a pained look tightens his face.
Something flares in his eyes that looks like ownership.
“I’d like for you to teach the girls I hire.
Teach them the pole work. Is that something you can do? ”
I blink in surprise and confusion. “Of… of course.”
He moves around the counter to stand in front of me.
I have to tilt my chin to look up at him.
His proximity is making me sweat even more.
His body is radiating heat and that woodsy, masculine scent.
He’s such a contradiction. The hard silver bar in his eyebrow, the hard gleam in his eyes, the softness of his lips.
I have a sudden urge to run my nails over his jawline, to scratch his stubble, to feel it on my thighs…
Jesus, Sam. I give my head a little shake to stop the fantasy. I have clearly lost control of my mind.
“You can conduct the classes any time before 2 PM Monday through Thursday. Five grand a week enough?”
My gaze flits over his face. Five grand a week? That’s more than I would’ve made dancing. “Yes, thank you.” I could cry with relief.
He shoves his hands in his pockets before he leans into me. His warm breath hits my ear. “I still don’t trust you, Vixen. But now you owe me.” He pulls back, winks at me, sending a rush of liquid heat between my legs.
Down, girl.
He opens the door and pauses to look back at me. There’s a touch of exasperation in his tone when he spits out, “Why is it so bleedin’ hot in here?”
I’m still reeling from his job offer, the effect he has on my body, and the fact I’m in debt to him, so it takes me a second to understand what he’s asking. “Oh.” I wave a hand. “The air conditioning’s been broken for two weeks. The building manager isn’t returning my calls.”
He stares at me. His eyes narrow and a low hum climbs up his throat, then he leaves, closing the door behind him.
I collapse against the counter. That was intense. And what the hell is up with my libido? I need to have a session with my vibrator before I do something stupid around Killian.
The relief I’m feeling has me in a good mood. I grab the burner phone to call Celia and tell her the good news.
***
Knocking. I blink my eyes open and peel my sweaty body off the couch, wiping the drool from my mouth. What?
Boom. Boom. Boom.
My heart jumps in my chest. Someone’s knocking. Again. My sleep-fogged brain is trying to catch up. What time is it? The burner phone is still clutched in my hand from talking to Celia and Rona. I check my watch. It’s a little after seven. I’ve only been asleep for an hour.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
Now the danger has me wide awake. I stumble back to the kitchen and once again grab the butcher knife. At the door I grasp it in both hands. “Who is it?”
“It’s me, Lenny Horowitz. We’re here to fix your air.”
I unbolt the deadlock but leave the chain on as I peek through the crack in the door. To my utter shock, it is Lenny, the apartment manager. Behind him is a man in a gray polo shirt with a tool bag hanging over his shoulder. In utter confusion, I let them in, then return the knife to the kitchen.
“This is Gar, the HVAC tech. I apologize for the delay in getting to your request.” Lenny jerks his chin at the man for him to get to work.
I’ve only met Lenny twice before. He’d treated me to a very lecherous leer at my cleavage and an invitation to his apartment.
Now, I cross my arms and study him. He’s sporting a swollen, black eye and he’s refusing to make eye contact with me.
In fact, I’m still in my braless white T-shirt so I’m confused as to why he’s not being his usual pervy self.
“If you need anything else, just let me know, Ms. Dal.”
Ms. Dal? I raise an eyebrow. “Actually, the bathroom sink is leaking. I’d appreciate that being fixed, also.”
His eyes flick up to me and… is that fear?
“Okay. I’ll be right back.”
I frown as he scurries from the apartment. But not five minutes later, he’s back with a tool box. He keeps his head down as he hurries to the bathroom.
Am I in the Twilight Zone?
I don’t know what to do with myself as the men work, so I just stand in the kitchen, sipping a glass of water.
My thoughts are all over the place. From the excitement of getting to teach the girls at the club, to where in the hell I should take Celia and Rona that will be far enough away.
Safe enough from Michael’s reach. Is there such a place?
We’ll definitely have to leave the country.
And then I’m back there. At the house the night we escaped.
Celia had risked her own life to help us, so there was no way I was leaving without her.
Besides, she’d practically raised Rona from birth since Michael only allowed me limited visits with our daughter, and only as a reward for obedience to him.
Rona was attached to her, and I knew Celia loved her back.
I wasn’t about to rip away that bond from either of them.
Someone clears their throat and my eyes snap up, bringing me back into the present.
Lenny is standing by the door. “The sink is fixed.”
Gar emerges, walks to the thermostat, and then gives me a thumbs up. I hear the air kick on and a blissful stream of cold air blows down from the vent.
“Just a clogged condensate line. You’re all set,” he says.
“Thank you, gentlemen.”
I move to the door so I can lock it after they leave.
Lenny turns to me. “Can you let Mr. Donnelly know everything’s fixed?”
“Mr. Donnelly?” I ask. Does he know Mac? And then it hits me. The sudden service. The black eye. The fear. Killian.
There’s a lump in my throat as I nod.