Chapter 1
Grace
“Jesus,” my boss Kara says from her spot next to me as we sling drinks from end to end at the bar. “What’s in the water tonight? This place is slammed.”
“Maybe it’s not about the water, but the beer,” I answer back with a grin, setting five pints down at once and sliding them toward the guy on the other side of the bar.
She’s right, it’s crazy here tonight. College students are back in the city, and Kara had warned me that when they return, we get crazy busy.
Not that I mind.
The tips will be killer and rent is due in a few days.
And I just like being busy. Time goes by quickly that way, and if I’m honest, I also just like being good at this job. I wasn’t at first.
With no job experience, I had no idea how to multitask, but I’ve picked it up quickly and I’m really proud of myself.
The last six months have been an epic journey of self-discovery, one that hasn’t been easy, but I’ve never been this satisfied with myself, with my life.
I keep going, working my way up and down the bar, Kara and I doing a dance of sorts as I keep serving the next and the next person.
Finally, somewhere between one and two in the morning, the pace starts to slow.
I let out a deep breath, jamming the palm of my hand into my back. Like I said, I like the job, but it’s killer on the feet and being hunched over for hours at time does not help my posture. I stretch with a groan and then spot my two besties at the far end of the bar.
Samantha is hell on wheels, full of life and fun, with flaming red hair and a big smile, but her judgment is frequently questionable. Becca is exactly the opposite. She’s all responsibility but the most caring person you could ever meet.
But somehow, the three of us just work.
I pour their drinks, the ones they don’t even have to order, because I know. A Long Island Iced Tea and a glass of pink zinfandel and bring them over before they’ve even ordered.
“You’re the best,” Samantha gushes, grabbing her tea from my hand. “I was about to lose my buzz.”
Becca clicks her tongue. “You can’t be hung over tomorrow. You know we have to make it to the ten o’clock mass at St. Peters for our music appreciation class.”
“I’ve got loads of experience turning up at church hung over,” Sam says, taking a big swallow. “Or still drunk.”
I snort out a laugh. Working most Saturday nights means I don’t get to go out with them as much I used to. But they come see me, and I sneak them the occasional free drink. We’ve got a system.
“I’m coming to church too,” I say, even though I don’t take the music class with them. Next year, we’re going to get an apartment together. But this year, I’m still in my single. It’s small, but rent in New York is ridiculous, so I’m barely stringing the payments together on my own.
Totally worth it, though.
“You sure?” Becca asks. “Church is kind of boring.”
“I’m good. Promise.” Being from Columbia, Catholicism is a way of life. I’ve spent more time in church than they can possibly imagine.
The worse my father behaves, the more my mother prays.
One of my brothers has gone into the family business. But the other just entered the seminary.
Yeah…we’re a family divided.
Becca takes a sip of her zinfandel, wrinkling her nose at Samantha’s half-empty glass. Then she turns back to me. “What time do you get off tonight?”
“Honestly, it will probably be three or three thirty before I’m out.”
Sam lets out a hiccup. “Man, that’s late.”
I don’t mind, other than the walk home. It’s only a few blocks, and most nights are peaceful, but sometimes it creeps me out.
But it’s a small price to pay for the independence I’ve finally claimed. “I’ll be all right.”
“Just text us if you change your mind about tomorrow morning,” Becca says with another sip. “And also text me when you make it home. I worry.”
“I will,” I say with a wink.
Sam slams the rest of her iced tea. “Hit me with another, barkeep!”
I laugh even as Becca clicks her tongue again. I give Becca a wink and then mix Samantha a lovely iced tea and lemonade mix without any of the alcohol. She’ll thank me in the morning.
She takes a big swig even as a guy approaches the bar. He’s massive and tattooed in that so-hot-but-so-dangerous kind of way.
I have to admit that I have a thing for bad boys. Guess I get it from my mom. But in a world where I mostly try to fly right, I’m a sucker for a guy who’s got trouble written all over him.
Literally.
The guy pushes a twenty across the bar, his giant hand tattooed with the word…Trouble.
My eyes drift up the bulging muscles exposed by his T-shirt and over his rippling pecs.
His neck is heavily corded, giving way to a square jaw, but it’s his eyes that make me jolt. They are the strangest color of amber I’ve ever seen.
And they’re enough that whatever spell I was momentarily under, I snap out of.
The last thing I need is to get in bed with Trouble.
“Can I help you?”
“Dewars. Rocks,” he rumbles low and deep. The sound of his baritone voice moving through me, settling between my legs.
It’s a good thing he’s got freaky eyes or I might be making some bad decisions tonight…
I grab one of the large ice cubes we keep for the single malts and then pour the Dewars over the top. “Anything else?”
“My friend will have a sparkling water.”
He points his thumb over his shoulder. I peek around him to see a man barely visible in the shadows staring back.
If Trouble’s freaky eyes are unsettling, the other guy is downright disturbing, the way his face is partially obscured, and the half I can see looks like he’s unhinged. “No problem.” I let out a breath, pulling out a glass and getting the water.
Did I need another reminder of why I shouldn’t mess with this guy?
I press the button on the water dispenser, but I only get a few spritzes of water before air blasts into the glass.
“Crap,” I mutter and then lift my head to find Trouble staring. I try to cover my discomfort with a smile. “Apologies. I’ve just got to go change the tank.”
“No problem,” he says, leaning over the bar, giving me a smile that does nothing to lessen his intense energy.
He feels like a predator. Like a lion who has locked his stare on his prey.
“Hey, Kara,” I call down the bar. “I’ve just got to change the tank. Be right back.”
Kara lifts her head, her eyes pinging from the guy to me, back to the guy, and then to me again. “Sure.”
Becca clears her throat even as I make my way into the back and then down to the basement.
We keep the kegs of beer down here, but we also keep the water with the mixing valve here as well. The day crew adds full tanks when needed but on a busy night, we may have to switch tanks.
Sure enough, the tank is empty.
I unscrew the nozzle and hook it back up to the tank next to it.
Screwing the hose on tight, I hustle back up the stairs.
The second I appear, I catch the amber of Trouble’s eyes as he stares. My gaze drops as I make my way back to the dispenser, bleeding the air from the line and then filing the glass with the carbonated water.
I can feel his gaze on my back, the intensity of his stare unsettling.
I have been around my fair share of dangerous men. Some of them read normal, but others…
This guy falls into the latter category. His darkness waves like a flag.
I set the drink in front of him. “Anything else?”
“What’s your name, gorgeous?” he asks, one corner of his mouth tilting up.
Shit.
“Grace?” Kara calls down the bar. “Can you get table seven?”
We don’t have a table seven. And I appreciate what she’s doing, but now…he knows my name. “Sure thing.” I give him a weak smile. “That will be fifteen.”
“All right, Grace,” he says, sliding a twenty across the bar. I reach for it, too eager for this to be over, when he picks up his hand and grabs mine.
I jump back, but his hold is firm as he starts pulling my hand closer to his body. “You’ve got soft skin, Grace.”
I wish he didn’t know my name. “Umm. Thanks.” And then I pull. He lets me go, and I grab the money, tossing it in the drawer, and then pull out his change, slapping it on the bar before I spin around.
Becca’s already on her feet, Sam’s gaze pinging between us. “That guy is hot,” she mutters as I approach.
“Dangerous is more like it,” Becca says with a glare at his retreating back. “We’re walking you home tonight.”
I let out a long rush of air. “Thanks.”
Kara comes to stand next to me. “Did they just say they’re walking you home?”
“Yeah.”
“Good. Take off early. That guy is creepy as fuck.”
“You mean hot as fuck,” Samantha says, peering around us. “Did you see those muscles? Wow.”
I shake my head. It’s not that I didn’t think it too. Maybe I’m a little more Samantha than I care to admit.
But I’m honestly trying to be a Becca. So I take a deep breath. “He has the word trouble tattooed on his hand. Literally.”
All four of us laugh and then Kara reaches into the tip jar, pulling the money behind the bar and separating it quickly into two piles. Then she hands me one. It’s got be three hundred bucks, and I say a silent thanks as I stuff it into the inside pocket of my army jacket and then shrug it on.
Sam and Becca both rise and the three of us head into the night.
We chat quietly, and I’m so glad that they’re here, but also, I can’t shake the memory of amber eyes or the feeling that I’m being watched.
But that disappears when I see three men step out of the alley in front of us.
I hold out my hands, stopping Sam and Becca as one of the guys stares me down.
“Fuck,” Samantha hisses, all her fun gone now. I get it. This is bad.
Becca crowds into my side. We’ve only got half a block left and they are directly in our path.
But the standoff only lasts for a second and then they turn. Leaving.
“Huh,” Becca mutters, turning to look behind us. “I thought that was going to go differently.”
“Me too,” I breathe as I pull them toward my place. “You’re coming inside and we’re getting you an Uber, though,” I say as I march us all faster. “My treat.”
“You need that money,” Becca says weakly. “I know you had to drop all your classes because you’re barely making rent.”
“I’ll be all right,” I reply, reaching my door and grabbing the key. “What I need is my friends to be safe. Priorities.”
Becca touches my shoulder as I unlock the front door. Once we’re inside, I bolt it again, and then order up the car.
Twenty minutes later, it arrives, Samantha and Becca calling their goodbyes before I lock the front door again.
Then I trot up the two flights of stairs to my third-floor apartment. It’s a tiny hole in the wall, but I like that it’s off the ground and I know most of my neighbors.
I unlock my door and slide through. Clicking it closed, I lock the door again, toss off my coat, and grab my cash. Then I pull down the jar of candy that has my money hidden inside.
My dad’s got money stuffed everywhere and he’s taught me a few things about how to hide it. Rice is too obvious, but most people expect M&Ms to just be candy.
I push the envelope back into the candy and tighten the jar when I hear the sound of male voices floating up into my room.
I turn. My windows aren’t the best, but they’re usually better at deadening sound than that.
But as I look, the curtain blows in the wind. Is the window open?
Rubbing my hands down the sides of my jeans, I walk toward the window. I’m not sure how I didn’t feel the cold as soon as I walked in, but the sooner I’m locked tight in my apartment, the safer I’ll feel.
This night has just been strange, and it’s not like me to leave the window open. I don’t know why I would have—
I stop as the curtain blows again.
It leaves the view open, and that’s when I see them.
The three men from earlier.
And all of them are looking up at my window.
I gasp in a breath, taking a giant step back.
Only one small light is on in my kitchen. Can they even see me?
Do I close the window and risk catching their attention? I’m frozen as I try to decide, but that’s when I catch a movement in the corner of the room.
My head whips around as amber eyes hold mine captive. “Don’t worry, gorgeous, I’d never let those pendejos anywhere near you.”
I let out a strangled cry as I fall back. But I can only focus on my fear for a second before my foot catches on my rug and then I’m falling, my arms flailing in the air.
But flailing doesn’t do anything to stop my fall, and my head hits the floor, pain bursting through my skull before the world goes dark…