“Yeah, I can tell,” Scotty said, settling back on his own stool. “You want to talk about it?”
Drake picked up his water. “You know that I’m going to want more scotch before the night is over, right?”
“Who am I to tell you what you can and cannot drink? I thought slower coasting would be better than full speed with cut brakes.”
Snorting, Drake cocked his head at Scotty. “It’s much more fun this way. You should try it.”
“No, thank you. I watch plenty of people go from sophisticated to unintelligible mess in one night. I’m not fool enough to join them.”
Scotty stopped suddenly at his words, holding his hands up. “I didn’t m—”
“I know what you meant. Don’t worry, I’ve drunk enough that your insults just bounce right off.”
“Really? Well then, there have been a lot of things I have been meaning to tell you….” Scotty laughed as Drake punched him in the arm. “Hey!”
“I’m not that drunk!”
“Good,” Scotty said with a smirk before a shadow fell across his face as he spotted something behind Drake.
Drake turned to see Frankie heading for him. Uhhh, that brought everything all back to the surface. This day has truly sucked. Hump day or not, it sucked.
For some reason, Scotty and Frankie didn’t hit it off. Frankie was probably the only person who Drake had seen Scotty not take a liking to. He wasn’t sure if it was the rough exterior, interior, or both that Frankie projected or the fact that Frankie was a tough guy who shoved people around when things went squirrely.
To help keep up appearances at the club, Frankie masqueraded as a bouncer. That way it didn’t look suspicious or odd to see him drag somebody out the door or down the hall to the back office. But it was as if Scotty could sense there was more to it than bouncing. Whenever Frankie was around, he made himself scarce.
“Uh-oh, looks like the big bad wolf is seeking an audience.”
Nodding, Drake took a sip of his water. He cringed, putting the liquid back on the counter. “Yep, looks like. You mind, uh?” He wiggled his empty scotch glass.
Scotty raised a brow disapprovingly, but after returning behind the bar gave Drake a refill.
“Thanks,” Drake said.
Nodding stiffly, Scotty went back to his duties as Frankie took his now vacant seat.
“Hey, Boss Man,” Frankie said. “You ain’t looking so good today. You want me to close up?”
Drake sipped his scotch and motioned for Scotty to get Frankie a beer. “Nah, I’m just settling in.”
“What do you think about Willy?”
“Poor kid didn’t know which way is up. You know how it is with these junkies.”
The ice clinked in Drake’s drink as he slowly spun his glass. He wouldn’t show it, but he preened a bit inside as Frankie spoke to him. If Frankie was asking his opinion, it meant his opinioned mattered.
“So, ya think he did it?”
Frankie reached over the bar to grab some nuts. He put a handful into his mouth, chewing noisily as he watched Drake. Drake cleared his throat, not entirely comfortable with the inquiring look he was getting, but still silently pleased with the question. He swallowed before answering. “Eh, who knows? Kid’s tougher than we give him credit for. He took everything I gave him and didn’t even try to make anything up. He stuck to his story. Even pumped full of Selecure, he didn’t have anything to say.”
Frankie nodded. “Right.”
“You heard it. He didn’t seem to know anything. I got him pumped full of drugs and sleeping it off in a back room. I figure we scared a few years off his life. He won’t be making any waves after this.”
Frankie popped another handful of nuts in his mouth, chewed them, and swallowed before replying. “Tony ain’t going to be happy with that. We can’t go back to him without some sort of answers. We have to give him something.”
Shrugging, Drake ran a hand through his hair. “I guess we gotta keep looking, then. As far as I could tell, the kid didn’t know anything.”
“Oh, we’ll keep looking, but we are going to give Tony something too. Just cuz the kid don’t know, don’t mean that he can’t be a lesson and a warning to the one who did talk to the cops.”
Shit. Not good.
“I’ll have Tony’s guys come pick him up and see what they can get out of him.”
Drake’s stomach twisted at the words. “You think that’s necessary? I mean, Willy’s just a kid and a junkie. He would have talked if he’d known something. And if he did know something, man, that kind of sealed lip could be a good thing to keep around.”
Frankie’s dark gaze met Drake’s, and it took everything Drake had to keep his expression cool and composed.
“This life ain’t for the weak at heart, Boss Man. You gotta break some eggs if you want an omelet. It’s all part of the job. Sealed lips can be paid for and wagging lips dealt with. All we have to worry about is making sure Tony feels satisfied.”
Drake covered his frown with a cough, putting a hand to his mouth, nodding. He had thought he could get the kid out of it without too much trouble, but he should have known better. The loss of the drug house had been a big one, and there was no way Boredega could let that go. The coincidences with Willy were too high to let him walk. Drake should have known better than to hope they’d let him walk away.
Now the kid had some fuel about Drake too. Shit. Maybe he should have killed him….
What?
No, what was he thinking?
Frankie watched Drake take another swig of his scotch, his eyes narrowed in a way that made Drake shiver. “Why don’t you head out? You look like you need an early night. Besides, I gotta wait for the club to clear out so I can take out the trash.”
Drake tried to hide his flinch but wasn’t sure if he pulled it off. He tilted his glass, tossing the remainder of his scotch to the back of his throat, then grabbed his jacket from the stool next to him.
“Yeah, fine, that sounds good. I guess I’ll head home, then.” Drake took an unsteady step back.
Frankie watched him with a cock of his head and threw him a smug smile. “The boys said that Natasha is still hanging around if you want me to grab her to take you home.”
“Oh, God no,” Drake groaned and made himself stand a little straighter. The mere thought made him feel instantly sober. “I’m fine. I’ll be in early tomorrow to look over the books. Can you make sure the bar finishes inventory so I can place an order tomorrow?”
“Sure, sure,” Frankie said, taking a swig from his domestic longneck.
Drake turned to walk away but stopped when Frankie called him back over. “Tony wanted me to tell you that he’s got a new kid coming in tomorrow.”
Drake smirked. “New errand boy?”
“New errand boy,” Frankie confirmed. “Apparently, the kid is on the fast track to move up in the ranks, so Tony thought he could start as the runner for the club and see how it goes.”
“Fast track, huh? He someone important?”
“You could say that. He’s Tony’s nephew or some shit like that. Has an ego on him too from what I hear.”
“Great. Another kid to babysit. So, what? He only a runner or can I utilize him too?”
Frankie snorted. “He wants to tend bar.”
“Perfect, exactly what I need. Another thug behind the bar.” Drake shook his head. Scotty was going to kill him. Whenever Tony brought in a new face, they always ended up behind the bar and very rarely were they trained enough to be a decent bartender. He wasn’t going to be happy to learn about a new head to train.
“From what I hear, he is a pretty boy, should be perfect for behind the bar.”
Drake laughed. “Yeah, I’ll tell Scotty you said that. All right, I’m outta here.”
“Night, Boss Man,” Frankie called as Drake exited the club.
Chapter 3
“DAMMIT!” DRAKE’S fists ached with his repeated pounding on his steering wheel. “Dammit, dammit, dammit!”
>
How did he let that happen? How did he go from saving the kid’s ass to putting him on the chopping block? He’d been able to get people out before. He had only had one or two opportunities but as far as he knew they had been successful.
Willy would probably have been better off if Drake had just given him the full syringe. Right now he was sobering up, thinking that everything was going to be fine, that he was going to make it out of there. Instead, he was going to be tortured and killed.
Fuck! Nothing was working out as it was supposed to. Drake hadn’t counted on Willy’s release being so close to the raid. Damn stupid cops! They should know better than let a known criminal with ties to Boredega go after a bust. They basically signed his death warrant.
Shit!
He dropped his head into his hands and drew a deep breath. He knew there would be lives lost in this battle. He knew the consequences of his actions could end up killing him and most likely those around him. But it felt like such a waste. Willy was a Selecure junkie, but he wasn’t a bad guy. He was more like the token low-end mob kid. He wore ugly Hawaiian shirts and hit on women he had no chance of getting with. He was harmless.
“I should have waited! I should have waited an extra day,” Drake muttered with another punch to his steering wheel.
He’d had the opportunity to leave an anonymous tip about the new drug house that had been set up on the south side. He didn’t usually know the exact locations of the Selecure houses, but this time he’d gotten a first-class ticket to see it. Frankie had taken him on a job. It was a double plus for Drake, because not only did it mean he was working his way into the big guy’s trust, he’d found another way to hit the cartel where it hurt—their revenue stream. It had to be done. It had to. If the drug house had still been operational, then there would be more of the drug on the streets and more bodies piling up. Sometimes you have to sacrifice the one to help the many.
As much as Drake wanted to blame this one on the cops, he knew Willy’s death was on him. Collateral damage—it was a means to the end.
Drake clenched his head in his fists before collapsing to lay his forehead on the wheel.
“I don’t know if I can take much more of this.”
Knock knock.
The sound was so loud in the silence that Drake nearly jumped out of his skin as it vibrated through him. Involuntarily jumping away from the door where the sound originated, he reached for the gun he had mounted under his seat.
“Hey, Drake, you okay in there?” Scotty called through the glass.
Drake blinked, letting his surroundings settle back around him before dismissing the instinct to grab his gun, and instead slapped his hand to his chest. He shook his head, trying to regain some of the air he had lost.
“Jesus, Scotty, you scared the shit out of me!” Turning the key to on, he rolled down the window.
Scotty peered into the car with a smug grin. “I got a change of pants in my locker if you need it.”
“Ha ha.” Drake rolled his eyes, “What the hell do you want?”
“I was takin’ the trash out when I saw you sitting in your car. You had quite a few drinks. You probably shouldn’t be behind the wheel.”
“What are you, my mother? I’m fine.” Drake shook his head at Scotty’s cocked brow. “I am! I’m fine! I can handle a few glasses of scotch.”
“A few glasses? Try most of the bottle!”
“It wasn’t that much.”
“Uh, yeah, it was.”
“What business is it of yours anyway?”
Scotty raised his hands in a sarcastic shrug. “Like all my business. I pour the damn drinks. I know when someone should or should not be driving and you, Boss Man, should definitely not be behind the wheel.”
Drake took in Scotty’s rant, letting the air settle around them. Scotty was right; he’d had a few drinks tonight. Not enough to squash his riptide of guilt and overwhelming emotion, but enough that he probably shouldn’t be driving home. That would be all he needed. To end up causing an accident that killed another innocent person.
Giving in, Drake nodded. “All right, okay, I hear you. I’ll call a cab.”
The smoldering grin that broke across Scotty’s face caused goose bumps to prickle along Drake’s arms. Damn, that man had no idea what he could get away with using that face.
Scotty, smile still in place, shook his head. “No, I’ll give you a ride.”
“What? The hell you will! You’re still on the clock! I’m already paying you to stand out here as a useless blob. I am not paying you to take me home.”
“Because you would rather pay a random taxi driver outrageous fees than let a friend give you a lift. Besides, Julie can handle it. It’s a Wednesday night. It shouldn’t be too bad.”
Drake went to protest but closed his mouth. Scotty was right. The taxis in this city did have outrageous rates. It would probably cost him more than an arm and leg to get to the other side of town. Besides, he and Scotty had never spent time together outside of club business. It might be good to get to know him a little better.
Drake shook his head, distilling those thoughts. Nope, there wasn’t time for that. It didn’t matter that Scotty was like a walking Calvin Klein model. Drake was neck-deep in shit, and he didn’t need any bedfellows.
“Okay, stay here. I’m going to grab my stuff,” Scotty said, already walking back toward the building.
Just because he couldn’t touch didn’t mean he couldn’t look, right? Drake’s lips curled as he appreciated Scotty’s smooth gait. The events of the night returned to him as Scotty ducked through the back door of the club, disappearing from view.
What the hell was he doing? Not only had he sat out in the parking lot long enough to get spotted throwing a fit in his car, but he was letting his mind get clouded with thoughts of sex. Probably mind-blowing sex, by the looks of those arms and firm ass, but—dammit!
Drake mentally scolded himself for letting his thoughts get carried away by his lewd imagination. Just because Scotty had a nice ass was no reason to think he could fall into bed with him. Sure, Scotty had hinted that the gender of his partners wasn’t an important issue, but it definitely didn’t mean he wanted to sleep with Drake. Drake was his boss. If anything, Scotty definitely should not want to sleep with him.
Or more to the point, Drake shouldn’t want to sleep with him. He couldn’t screw an employee! He had enough trouble on his plate dealing with the club without adding another person to the mix. Besides, when shit went down, there was no telling what was going to happen or who would get hurt. He’d thought he would be able to get Willy out of there alive, but that hadn’t happened. He couldn’t risk Scotty. No, he needed to keep his distance.
But as Scotty trotted back toward his car carrying a small bag, Drake couldn’t help but think of the possibilities. Drake’s eyes glued to Scotty’s figure as he moved quickly through the parking lot toward Drake’s car. His lithe body maneuvered between the parked vehicles gracefully. Drake licked his lips.
Okay, maybe he’d had too much to drink. He should be able to watch an employee and friend walk to his car without his pants getting tight.
Scotty walked directly to the driver’s door, pulling it open. He leaned in with a cocked brow. Waving a hand to indicate that Drake should scoot over into the passenger seat, he tossed his bag into the back, then slid in, shutting the door.
“Oh, it’s a stick shift,” Scotty said, sliding his seat forward so he could reach the pedals and move the mirrors.
Drake watched him in horror. “Yes, it’s a stick. What the hell are you doing?”
Scotty shot him a quick look. “What do you mean?”
Drake gestured frantically at Scotty, who was still messing with the seat. “You’re changing all my settings. Do you have any idea how hard it is to get your seat in exactly the right spot?”
“I have to be able to reach the pedals and use the mirrors if I am going to drive you.”
“You don’t touch a man’s seat settings! N
ow it will never feel right again.”
Scotty rolled his eyes, shifting the rearview mirror a touch more, mostly to get more of a reaction out of him, Drake figured, before turning the key in the ignition. “Oh, you’ll get used to it again, just like you did the first time.”
Drake sat back in a pout, arms crossed. “I can’t believe that you did that.”
“Get over it. I’ll change it back, and you’ll never even know that it was moved.”
“Of course I’ll know it’s moved! I just watched you move it. And there is no way that you could possibly get it back exactly how I had it.”
Scotty tilted his head toward Drake with an amused smile, “Jeez, are you always this whiny?”
Drake’s frown deepened. “No, I save it for annoying pricks that mess with another man’s seat settings.”
“Did you call me a prick?”
“I believe I did, yes.”
Letting out a laugh, Scotty shook his head. “I don’t think I’ve heard that one in a while.”
“Really? I can’t be the only one out there calling you a prick, when you so obviously radiate the characteristics.”
“So, this is the kind of treatment I get for driving you home?”
Drake sat back, enjoying the banter. “Hey, I didn’t ask you to. You volunteered all by yourself.”
“What was I thinking?”
“That you can’t get enough of me.”
“Ha! You wish that were the case.”
“I know it is.”
Scotty sat quietly for a moment, his eyes on the road. The silence, such a difference from the bickering banter back and forth, was unsettling, and Drake shifted so he could watch Scotty covertly from the corner of his eye.
He was as handsome and alluring driving his car as he was pouring drinks. Not that it mattered. As much as Drake wanted him, longed to touch him, to feel his skin ripple under his fingertip, his heat sink into his flesh, Drake had to remember that his life was not conducive to relationships. He didn’t have the right to bring anyone into this life. That’s why he’d always stuck with one-night stands, and most of those he’d had with people already involved in the dark underbelly. It was too dangerous to bring in an innocent bystander.
Semblance Page 3