by A. Zavarelli
I snag her by the arm and stop her before she goes.
“How many sets do you do?” I ask.
“I do three a night,” she says.
“And that’s it, right?” I press. “It’s just working the stage, and lap dances. Nothing else?”
She gives me a sad little laugh and shakes her head. “No lap dances for you, honey. Lachlan thinks you belong to him I guess. Do you think he wants other guys rubbing all up on you?”
A weird look passes over her face as she says it, and I have to think there’s more than what she’s telling me.
“Oh.” I frown. I still don’t get it. Is this because he doesn’t trust me or because he wants me? And either way, what does it matter?
“So you do lap dances then?” I ask.
Sasha hems and haws and looks around the dressing room before she cracks. “Well, no. Not technically. I don’t know why, but one day Lachlan just told me I wasn’t supposed to do them anymore. I didn’t ask why.”
Of course not. I nearly roll my eyes. Who would second guess Lachlan’s orders. Still it confuses me. Does he have a thing for Sasha too? And why does the thought of that even make me feel uptight?
Sensing my train of thought, she shakes her head.
“It’s not that,” she says quietly and then bites her lip. “I think it’s just out of respect for my ex, but I don’t know for sure. Either way, I don’t really care. I just count myself lucky.”
“That’s why the other girls don’t like you either,” I observe.
She gives me a meek nod. “They think I act above my station. But I’m just another dancer. I doubt the men out there can even tell us apart.”
I want to ask her more while she’s in a giving mood, but then another man walks into the room, and Sasha goes tense and quiet. His gaze is practically glacial as he glances in her direction, and his body reflects the same stance. If I wasn’t paying such close attention, I would assume he hates her. But I am paying close attention, so instead, I notice the very brief flick of his eyes over her body and the way his pupils dilate before he moves his attention to me.
I don’t even have to ask to know this is my handler. Ronan Fitzpatrick. I’ve heard a few things about him too. He’s Lachlan’s soldier and confidante. Also migrated from Belfast around the same time which would imply to me that they are old chums. I hate to admit it, but he’s another handsome Irish bastard. He looks different from the others though. He’s impeccably dressed in a sharp suit and wears black- framed glasses. His posture is unnaturally stiff, and he has an impenetrable wall of cool civility surrounding him.
Sasha shifts awkwardly beside me, her eyes darting everywhere but at Ronan. I mentally catalogue that information for later before I tell her thank you and goodbye.
To his credit, Ronan gives me a nod as I grab up my bags, and his eyes never dip below my face. Loyal to a fault. You mess with another man’s woman in this crew, it’s a death sentence. And apparently these guys think I belong to Lachlan.
Ronan escorts me through the bar in silence and then gestures to another guy who joins us a moment later. The three of us walk out the door and the new guy introduces himself as Rory as he climbs inside the driver’s seat. Ronan takes the passenger side and I sit in the back.
The silence is almost painful as we drive, so I start blabbering. I need to build a rapport with anyone and everyone I can. Any one of them could have the information I need.
“How are you boys tonight?
“Oh we’re just grand.” Rory smirks and winks at me through the rear-view mirror. “But you aren’t supposed to talk to us, ye know.”
“Hey buddy, it’s a free country.”
“I’m just being a gobshite,” Rory laughs. “If you need something, my pal Ronan here is at your service. Isn’t that right, Ronan?”
Hm, manservants. A girl could get used to this kind of treatment.
“You mean like at the club?” I ask. “Or do I get a beeper too? Ooh, what about one of those little bells. I can ring it, and then he comes running…”
Rory nearly busts a lung in his fit of laughter.
“She’s a right wee pussycat isn’t she?”
Ronan grunts. “Find that rather amusing, do you? I’ll be glad to let ye know that I’ll be watching over you every minute of the day. So go on, just try to pull a fast one on Lachlan. See how that works out for ye.”
Sheesh, what got his panties in a bunch?
“Protective much?” I retort. “What makes you think I’m going to do something to Lachlan?”
“He doesn’t trust you,” Rory answers. “But don’t worry, he doesn’t trust anybody.”
“Seems to be a recurring theme around you boys,” I huff.
He doesn’t reply. And when I get to the motel, I’m not surprised in the least when I go inside and they remain in the parking lot for the night. Welcome to my new life. A prisoner of my own making.
***
After a scalding hot shower and a quick peek out the window, I take my notes out of my hiding place and unroll them. I prop myself on the bathroom counter and write in there just in case Lachlan decides to come banging down my door again. To my relief, he doesn’t. It’s much easier to think when he’s not around.
Since I didn’t get a chance to mingle with the Russians tonight, I go through each person that I’ve met so far and write down my first impressions of them and anything I think might be of use. Out of all the dancers, Sasha is probably going to be my best shot at getting information. She’s got a good heart. A little too soft, like Talia, and it makes me hate myself for using her. But I have to keep my eye on the prize.
Rory is a big guy, and I know from seeing him at the fights he’s an honest and fair fighter. That says a lot in my book. It’s an intuitive guess but I highly doubt he had anything to do with Talia’s disappearance, so I put him on the bottom of the list.
Ronan is a little bit more difficult to pin down. Under his very stiff and unsociable exterior, I know something darker lurks. But I didn’t notice him looking at any of the dancers tonight, except for Sasha. I’ll have to keep an eye on him. His loyalty to Lachlan runs deep, and he’ll probably be the toughest nut to crack.
As for the rest of them, I organize into order of importance. I want to get more information on Niall since he’s the one running the show. But also Donovan because there’s just something about that guy that rubs me the wrong way. I already know he’s got anger issues, and judging from his reaction to me beating him in the fights, I doubt he’d hesitate to take it out on women. So for now those are two possibilities from the Irish side of things. But I can’t rule out the dancers either. Mandy is very territorial, and it’s also possible that maybe one of them could have done something to Talia. It’s a long shot, but I can’t overlook any avenue.
After a couple hours of taking notes and strategizing, I chomp down a granola bar and collapse into bed. I’ve only been at this for one day, and already I’m exhausted. Even still, when I flop back onto the pillow and stare up at the ceiling, sleep doesn’t come.
Chapter Ten
Lachlan
“C’mon, Crow,” Dominic taunts.
“Fack off.” I swing at him and miss.
“You’d better cop on to yourself.”
If he wasn’t right, I’d punch him just for saying so. All the lads are watching. Sean too, of course. They can see me stumbling, losing the plot. Can’t even focus on what’s straight in front of me. I’ve got too much shite floating around my head. This stuff with the Russians. The conversation I need to have with Niall. And the girl as well now.
Dominic always gets his arse handed to him. Always. But today, I couldn’t punch my way out of a bloody paper sack.
“Let me have a go.” Ronan steps into the ring. Keeping my focus on Dom, I wave him off.
“It wasn’t a goddamned question.” Next thing I know, he’s clattering me with a perfect left hook to my jaw.
“W
hat the bleeding hell’s got your knickers in a twist?” I ask.
His only reply is to swing at me again. I slam into him and pretty soon we’re rolling around on the mats, punching each other in the face and landing shots anywhere we can reach.
“Alright lads,” Jimmy calls out. “Clear the floor.”
There’s some bitching and moaning from the fellas but I’m too focused on murdering Ronan to give a fuck. I get a solid shot in and his head snaps to the side, blood pouring out of his nose. He repays me with an uppercut that sends my teeth clean into my lip.
I rear back and pull my arm with me, determined to finish him. He rolls out from under me and lands a knee to my chest. It steals the wind from me and I splutter out the only defense I’ve got left.
“Fucking cunt.”
I stumble up onto my feet and spit the blood from my mouth, wiping my lips on my hand. Ronan stares at me, body tense and his own chest heaving for breath. He’s not a brawler by nature, he’s an out and out killer. So I know something has really set him off here.
“What’s your beef now?” I ask again.
“That’s exactly the question, isn’t it? Do ye take me for a man who likes to sit around and babysit?”
I grin, in spite of myself. Goddamn Ronan, the temperamental bastard.
“Ye’re the one who said ye didn’t trust her.”
“Ye’re the one who brought her in. This isn’t a fecking joke, Crow. The lads are all watching you right now. Sean is watching you. Looking for weaknesses.”
“I’ve no delusions about that,” I reply.
Silence falls between us. Ronan is my best mate. Always watching my back. He knows me better than most. My secrets, my weaknesses. But right now, he’s looking at me like he doesn’t know me from the bloody janitor. I can’t tell him what the fuss is all about, because he’s too much of a wildcard himself. He respected Carrick as much as I did. If I even planted so much as a seed of doubt in his mind about our alliance, he’d burn their whole syndicate to the ground or die trying.
That’s Ronan. Loyal like no other. He has his reasons for being the way he is. Likes to believe I saved him somehow. He saved himself. I don’t argue the point because I reckon this logic helps him sleep better at night.
“Have ye any idea when you’d care to fill me in?” Ronan asks bitterly.
I jerk my eyes away and use my shirt to towel off my face. “There’s nothing to fill in, lad.”
He laughs, and it always sounds odd coming from him. Ronan doesn’t laugh. He’s quiet, observant, never funny. But this isn’t a funny laugh.
“Fuck you too.” He walks to the door.
“I need ye to keep eyes on her,” I call after him.
He pauses, palm on the door handle.
“Ye’re the only one I trust, Ronan.”
His back straightens, and I get a jerk of a nod in response. He doesn’t like it, but he’ll do it. “I’ll sort it out, Crow. I always do.”
Chapter Eleven
Mackenzie
The next night, Ronan comes back to take me to the club again. Apparently convinced he can handle me on his own now, Rory is absent, which is okay by me. I want to use the opportunity to talk to him. There’s been a burning question on my mind that I can’t seem to shake. I want to eliminate Lachlan from my pool of suspects in Talia’s disappearance. Why that’s so important to me, I have no idea. It could just as easily be him involved as anyone else.
“So do you do this for all of Lachlan’s girls?” I ask.
He pauses at a stoplight and stares over at me as if I’ve lost my mind. I suppose I probably have, asking questions like these. But what I really want to know is if he ever drove Talia anywhere.
“I see to whatever needs seeing to,” he answers.
Hm, okay. When all else fails, use sarcasm.
“That many, huh?”
“Jaysus,” he mutters. “Ye sure are nosy. Haven’t ye ever heard that women are better seen and not heard?”
“Yeah, yeah.” Fricken, chowdahead. “Sounds like the words of a bitter man to me, Ronan. Did you get your little gangster heart broken?”
I’m totally joking, but when he scowls at me, I know I’ve hit the nail on the head without even meaning to. It kind of makes sense when I put two and two together. He’s so broody all the time and wears a permanent scowl on his face. Someone whose nerves I could easily get onto- and generally would without question- but now I feel a little sliver of guilt.
“Ye want to know if I drive other women around for Lachlan?” his fingers tighten on the steering wheel. “Sure. He’s out on the razzle every night with a different ride. Something to think about when ye’re trying to sink your claws into him.”
Sheesh, I really hit a nerve. Who knew gangsters could be so touchy? And why exactly does what he’s saying even bother me? He’s got this smug smile on his face because he knows it too. Bastard.
“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about buddy,” I lie. “I’m here to work. I was just trying to make some friendly conversation is all.”
He grunts in response. Obviously I have my work cut out for me with this guy. I shut my mouth and remain silent for the remainder of the ride. When we arrive, Ronan escorts me to the back and then takes a seat outside near the stage. I guess he really will be watching me every second of the day.
I walk towards the dressing room, knowing I’m a little early, and not expecting any of the other girls to be here yet. So when I round the corner and find Donovan with his cock balls deep in Sasha’s mouth, I freeze in shock. Before I can even get my bearings, he grunts out his release and shoves her head away.
“Jesus,” I mutter. “That’s going to haunt my nightmares.”
He wheels around and zips up his pants, eyeing me off in disbelief.
“This fuckin’ cunt. What the fuck are you doin’ here?”
I don’t reply, and I don’t bother to leave either. He’s trying to make me uncomfortable, and the worst thing you can do with a guy like this is to let him think he’s got your goat.
A slow smile spreads across his face as he reaches down and grabs his junk through his pants. “You want to take a ride next, babe? See how tough you are with my big, fat cock up your ass?”
“Not even if you were the last man on earth.” I smile sweetly.
“Jesus, Donny.” Sasha tugs on his shirt. “You better be careful. She’s Lachlan’s.”
“Lachlans?” he furrows his brow. “You gotta’ be shittin’ me. He’s banging this broad?”
“She’s his,” Sasha repeats.
Though it couldn’t be further from the truth, I don’t negate it. I want to see how Donny handles this information. He shoots me another glance and this time the irritation in his eyes is unmistakable. With a dismissive wave of his hand he makes for the door.
“Fuck that, you ain’t worth the trouble.”
The minute he’s gone, I glance over at Sasha, who has tears leaking out of her eyes and smeared mascara.
“Really, Sash?” I give her a pointed stare. “That guy?”
She fakes a smile and sits down in front of the mirror. “It’s what Donny expects, honey. And it’s easier to just give him what he wants, otherwise he’ll be making trouble for all of us.”
“Does Lachlan know about this?” I ask.
Her face pales and she shakes her head. “You can’t say anything to him, Mack. I don’t want no trouble. I’ve got a sick mother to support.”
I smash my lips together and nod to ease her worries, but like hell is that going to be the last word on this subject. Sasha starts fixing up her makeup, and I sit down beside her to watch since mine’s already done.
“I didn’t know if you’d be back,” she says.
“I’m tougher than I look.”
“I just hope you know what you’re getting yourself into,” she replies in a bitter tone.
“What do you mean?”
“This whole wor
ld, it’s just… a whirlwind, you know. I never know if I’m comin’ or going half the time. These guys will protect you like one of their own, but they’ll also use you up if you let em’.”
“Well, maybe they should be worried about me using them up,” I tease.
Sasha laughs and shakes her head. “I highly doubt it, now that Lachlan’s put the word out. They wouldn’t touch you with a ten-foot pole, honey. But don’t go thinking that means anything. He’ll still fuck whoever the hell he wants. It’s how things work in this world.”
I swallow the annoying lump in my throat as Sasha applies her lipstick.
“Did you date one of these guys, Sash?”
Again, she laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “I wouldn’t call it dating. He fucked me whenever it suited him until he ended up burning rubber outta’ town. He’s the one who dragged me into this world, and now I’m stuck here.”
“Jesus, Sasha… that’s awful. I’m sorry.”
She blinks back the glassiness in her eyes and fixes her mascara.
“It’s not so bad,” she says. “I probably shouldn’t be unloading all this crap on you, huh? Niall and his men have done right by me, so I can’t complain about any of that. I’m just having an off day and I don’t want to see you get hurt like I did.”
“So besides Donovan, you haven’t had any trouble with the rest of them?” I ask curiously. “I mean… what about the Russians? I’ve heard a whole bunch of stories about them.”
Sasha’s face pales a little at my question, and I know I’m onto something. But she clams up real quick and starts shoving all her makeup back into her bag.
“No problems,” she says quickly. “Just the usual stuff, you know. Women drama. I gotta’ go get warmed up.”