Smoke

Chapter 3

Not again.

“No, no, no!” I hiss. “Fuck!” The tap on the keg makes a whooshing sound just as an ice-cold burst of dark beer sprays in my face. All the other taps work fine, but this one gives me problems every single time I change the keg out.

I grunt in frustration as I lick the bitter stout from my lips. I grab the closest rag and dab at my clothes, but it’s no use. I’m soaked. Ugh. Disgusting. I hate everything about beer—the taste, the smell, the texture. And now I’m covered in it.

I can’t even run upstairs to shower and change because Hawk could walk in any second. If he shows up and the front door is locked, he will lose his shit. And with all these robberies, there’s no way in hell I’m gonna shower with the door unlocked. Fuck my life.

I try not to gag as I wring out the bottom of my white tank top in the sink. The brown stains will never come out at this point. Another piece of clothing just became a casualty of bar life. I don’t regret my decision to buy Level Up, I just wish that I could afford to hire some actual help.

Doing everything by myself was fun at first, but five years later, it’s exhausting. Plus, I barely have time to have a life outside of these walls. I literally live here.

The buzz of my phone sends my heart racing. I curse under my breath before sneaking a glance at the screen. “Fuck,” I mutter aloud. It’s another text from the unknown number. But I know exactly who it is. One more fucking thing I don’t have time for right now.

I click on the message and read it in full, my stomach churning with anxiety.

Hey, Cherry. I wonder how Father Eli will feel when he finds out his little girl is a stone-cold killer. You think he’ll give up the cloth? Or maybe he’ll just off himself in shame.

What do you want, Kane?

My blood runs cold. He’s been threatening me for months.

Ever since I rejected him. For years, we had an on and off again situationship.

When we were young, his whole bad boy image was sexy, and messing around with him was a great way to piss off Hawk.

But I’m not a teenager anymore. I’m a grown woman, and a business owner with bills and a mortgage.

While Kane’s still working the county fairs and markets just for enough chump change to score some blow. I’m done fucking around with him. I’ve been done.

The thing is, he’s not having it. And he’s using my past against me. He held his cards close all these years, never letting me know that he knew. Until he wanted more. And I had the audacity to refuse him.

You know what I want, Cherry. But you always gotta play so hard to get. Send me another pic of those perfect tits of yours, and I’ll hold off on going to church this week. But I want to see you pinching those nipples this time. Pinch them fucking hard for me, until they almost bleed.

If it keeps him quiet, I’ll do it. What worries me is that the rest of his brain cells will kick in, and he’ll start demanding more.

Fine. I’m closing up the bar. I’ll send you a pic before I go to bed.

I still don’t know for sure if he has any proof. But just him knowing about it is enough.

I’ll be waiting. Don’t forget, or I’ll post the other ones you sent on the church’s messenger board.

Fucking vile piece of shit. I shudder thinking about him. The way I sucked his dick twice that night after the murder house. He was the perfect alibi. I let him cum on my tits after the first time. He made me swallow on the second.

For now, I just need to keep him quiet. Even if zero proof exists, I don’t need him placing even a hair of doubt in anyone’s head.

Relax. You’ll get your pound of flesh.

I flip my phone over so I don’t have to look at the screen anymore.

It was an open and shut case. There were no weapons, no prints, and no motive. They classified it as a break-in gone bad, even though nothing was stolen, and closed it down. The parents sold the house and never spent another summer in Crimson Valley ever again.

But the local police have always been itching to reopen it.

Their egos were beyond bruised. Especially after they lost the civil suit for negligence.

Sherrif deputies traipsed all over the house before forensics arrived.

Not that they would’ve found anything anyway.

Hawk and his crew don’t miss. But still.

If they get even the tiniest sliver of hope in solving it after all these years, they’ll take it.

So I send Kane the nude photos he asks for, all while wondering when he’s going to work up the nerve to demand that I fuck him again. I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it I guess. I let out a deep sigh and go back to cleaning the bar.

After mopping up all the beer I spilled, I manage to get the tap on tight without further incident. I also make a note to order a new one when I can. I’m tired of fighting with it every weekend. Besides, I’m running out of cute T-shirts to wear.

I wipe the sweat off my brow with the back of my hand and slide onto the nearest barstool. I groan as I rub my calves. What I would give for a full body massage. If I could afford one. I sigh and light up a cigarette.

Level Up is not the gold mine I first thought it was.

While the markup on alcohol is substantial, the overhead costs of keeping a kitchen and a fully functioning arcade is high.

Hence why I don’t employ a single person.

But something’s gotta give at some point.

I can’t keep burning the candle at both ends.

I’m about three nude photos away from having a nervous fucking breakdown.

And just when I think I can’t take any more hits to my nervous system, a loud bang erupts against my window.

I spin around in the stool, my heart racing, to see that massive blond fucker, Scarrow, pounding his fist against the glass. Hawk and Omen hover next to him, both scowling.

Fuck, I must’ve locked it without thinking. I sprint to the door and can barely get it open fast enough before the three of them come barreling in. “Sorry, force of habit,” I mutter.

They toss curses at me, all while brushing imaginary dirt off their clothes, acting as if I’ve made them wait for hours in the middle of the woods. So fucking dramatic. I roll my eyes at them and stalk back toward the bar to finish my cigarette.

Scarrow and Omen each plop down in a bar stool on either side of me while Hawk slides behind the bar and helps himself to a bottle of whiskey.

“Please, by all means,” I snicker.

He glares at me while pouring three shots. “What’s yours is ours, sweetheart.”

I can feel the sweep of anger rising in my chest. The audacity. Fucking hell. “You can’t just come in here and assume you own the place, Hawk. I know I owe you a shit load but my bar is off limits.”

“Says who, mama?” Omen demands in my ear. He brushes a strand of hair off my shoulder.

I flinch away from him. “Don’t touch me.”

Scarrow pinches the back of my neck. “What is the going rate for cleaning up a triple homicide then?”

The contents of my stomach are swirling, threatening to bubble up. I made them just as guilty as me by involving them. And they had to skip town too. Same as Roxy. It’s my fault. I force people away. “You’re right. I’m sorry,” I murmur.

Hawk snickers. “Giving up so easily? Well, that’s no fun. What happened to the unhinged girl who stole my car?”

I shrug Scarrow’s arm off before blowing smoke in his face. “You didn’t let me finish. I’m sorry that the three of you are so obsessed with me that you can’t even see straight. Last I heard, someone’s been hitting your trucks. Maybe focus more on your own business and less on mine.”

Hawk grabs the whiskey bottle and drops it. I jump as the glass shatters on the floor.

“What the fuck, Hawk?” I yell.

Omen laughs. “What are you going to do about it?”

Hawk grabs another bottle, a top shelf tequila. “It’s a shame you lost all your supply tonight.” He does it again, letting it fall and smashing to pieces. The stench of liquor burns my nostrils as it wafts between us.

I jump up and start to crawl across the bar when they drag me back and slam my ass down in the stool. “You fucking pricks. Let me go.”

“Nah, you’re going to watch until you understand,” Scarrow whispers in my ear. He lets his lips linger a little too long for my liking. The heat from his breath sends a tiny shiver up my spine.

I squirm on the stool, writhing against the hold Omen and Scarrow have on me as I’m forced to watch Hawk destroy six more bottles of my best liquor. The smell is borderline toxic. I could get drunk off the fumes alone.

“Please, enough. What can I do to make you stop?” I beg. Tough or not, this is my livelihood they are messing with. I will get my revenge later, but right now I need him to stop. Or else I’m not going to have anything left to sell to my customers.

Hawk pretends to lose his grip on a hundred dollar bottle of Scotch, nearly giving me a heart attack, but instead he takes a pull off it. His eyes light up as he swallows. “Damn, Cherry. You’ve got good taste. Now let me hear you say it or else this one’s a goner too.”

Scarrow’s grip on my neck tightens while Omen slides his hand across my thigh. I shudder as the heat from both of them awakens an ache I haven’t let myself feel in a long time. And with Hawk’s piercing gaze burning into mine, it’s all I can do to not go into fucking heat.

I want to say something smart so fucking bad, but I bite my tongue. I can’t afford to lose anymore inventory. “Fine. What’s mine is yours,” I grit out. For now.

“Good girl.” He lets the Scotch drop to the floor.

I gasp, my mouth gaping open in shock and disbelief. “What the fuck? I did what you asked. Do you know how much money I could’ve made off of that?”

Omen takes out a cigarette from my pack and snaps it in half. “Ain’t no one in Crimson Valley paying more than twenty dollars for a glass of Scotch. You weren’t going to make jack shit.”

“Are we done here? Or will you not be satisfied until I have nothing to serve my customers?” I glare at a spot on the bar, refusing to make eye contact with any of them.

“Nah, I think you understand now. We’ll be setting up shop here until we find the mole in our organization.” Hawk comes from behind the bar and pauses behind me.

Great. I can’t even argue or he’ll probably burn the whole place down. I’m fucked. “Whatever.”

Scarrow and Omen both stand to leave but not before Omen takes another dig. He crushes the rest of my pack of cigarettes in his palm. “You should quit.”

I snort but keep myself in check. I’m still in the danger zone with these three rabid fucking bastards. “Thanks for your concern.”

“I’ll send you the bill tomorrow,” Scarrow taunts.

I swear if they don’t stop there’s going to be another triple homicide tonight. “For what exactly? My overdue therapy?”

He laughs. “No, but that’s a good point too. For the liquor. You’ll be ordering it from us from now on. And it looks like you’re running low on a few.”

Fucking bastards. I’m going to kill them. I grit my teeth. “What about my other vendors? I have contracts and outstanding orders.”

“We’ll take care of all that, mama. Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it.” Omen flicks his fingers against my temple, leaving me stunned.

They’re almost to the door when Hawk turns back around. “Oh, I almost forgot. Tomorrow. Sunday dinner. Don’t be late.”

If I thought I was going to commit murder before…. “I don’t go to those anymore, Hawk.”

He smirks, but as usual it doesn’t reach his eyes. No, his look is one of pure fucking disgust. “Well, you do now. The level of disrespect your daddy tolerates is beyond me. But no more. Not while I’m around. It’s gonna be just like old times, Cherry.”

Fuck. Me.

As soon as they’re outside, I bolt the door. A part of me wants to cry, but I know if I start now, I’ll never stop.

I groan as I survey the mess behind the bar.

It takes me another two hours to clean it.

I sweep up the broken glass and mop the floor for the second time tonight, cursing the entire time.

But no matter how much soapy water I throw on it, the stench of booze is pungent.

It’s a good thing I’m closed tomorrow. It will give me an extra day to air it out.

I drag my feet upstairs and let out a tightly held sigh of relief when I enter my apartment. The scent of candles and incense from last night still linger, a comforting aroma that wraps me up like a big hug.

After taking a long hot shower, I slip into a pair of shorts and a tank top. I start to climb into bed when I remember the promise I made earlier.

Fuck.

I slide my top down to my waist and lay back against the headboard. Holding my phone up in the selfie position, I pinch my right nipple so hard it swells and reddens. I snap the pic and send it.

Happy now?

Typing bubbles appear, stop, then reappear for what seems like forever.

No. I want the other one.

I sigh and do the same to my other nipple. I just want to go to sleep, not argue semantics.

Bye, Kane.

I’m going to cum so hard looking at these tonight, Cherry… Sweet dreams.

Yeah, my dreams better be as sweet as fucking pie because my waking life is turning into a real nightmare.