by Byrne, Wendy
She gave Shane a quick glance to make sure he hadn’t decided to fire her on the spot. He just glared at her from behind the bar. Which was normal. So far so good.
“But if I left, I wouldn’t be a customer, would I?” the man countered bringing her attention back.
She sashayed a little closer. She’d worked in bars so long she’d developed her own breathalyzer system, ranging from zero for sober to ten for being inches away from passing out. She figured this guy at about a five and therefore safe. Anything above a seven, and she steered clear.
She paused to give the impression she was contemplating his suggestion. “That’s true, but I also don’t date bankers, too boring. Lawyers—do I really have to explain that one? Managers, too anal. Accountants, ditto on the boring. Doctors, that God complex and all. Salesmen, too slick. Anyone in the construction field, too flirty.” Figuring she’d covered all professions, she let out a smile. “That only leaves cops.”
“I’m a cop.”
“Hmmm. But I also don’t date married, engaged, or otherwise attached men, and I’m betting you’re one of those.”
The guy gave a guilty nod while she shimmied away. “Am I good or what?”
“You didn’t say anything about teachers.” The room acoustics were so right on nobody had to shout to be heard.
“Oh, honey, I’m a high maintenance gal. These shoes are four hundred dollar Manalo Blahniks.” She pointed toward her feet, a wicked smile on her face. “Not meaning to sound shallow, but I know what teachers make. That would never work.” She sauntered over and gave him a peck on the cheek. “But you’re mighty cute.”
Another guy spoke from in back. “We don’t have to date. I could be one of your groupies.”
God, this was fun. “Shane frowns on those.” She pointed towards him as he stared at her from behind the bar. Speaking in a conspiratorial whisper into the microphone, she said, “He’s kind of a curmudgeon.”
* * *
Shane’s blood simmered in his veins. Somehow she’d managed to bring in a whole crapload of people. While her voice was incredible, he found it hard to believe she hadn’t masterminded some kind of scheme to get more people in the audience. No way had word gotten out that fast about her singing talents.
The real kicker was that he pegged most of the customers as cops. And the last thing he needed or wanted in his life was more cops.
As if things weren’t bad enough already, his worst nightmare walked through the door. Could this whole situation get any worse?
Seconds later, he found out they definitely could when the music started. She wanted music between sets, and damn if she hadn’t gone around him to get it accomplished. But it was who she enlisted for her first dance that really sent him over the edge.
CHAPTER FOUR
Gabriella steadfastly avoided eye contact with Shane. With music playing in the background, she hunted through the crowd for a likely candidate for what she had in mind. Finally, she spotted a couple of guys at a table in the corner.
She half danced, half shimmied her way over. Just as Van Morrison began to sing ‘Brown Eyed Girl,’ she grabbed the hand of the blond guy.
“This is my song. Dance with me.” When he stood up, she continued, “I warn you, I like to lead.” She motioned to the remainder of the crowd. “Join us. Who can resist a Van Morrison tune?”
The guy smirked and grasped her hand. She brought him onto the small stage, which became an impromptu dance floor. Although a calculated risk, she found the guy to be a competent dancer.
After the song finished, she spared a glance at Shane, hoping maybe he didn’t care about what she’d managed to orchestrate behind his back. If she were really lucky, maybe he’d get a clue, and see the benefit of what she’d done.
One look gave her the answer. And it wasn’t pretty.
Maybe it was her imagination, but it looked as if there were a vein pulsing in the middle of his forehead, one that seemed seconds away from bursting. That couldn’t be good. And he was giving her the super-duper death stare from behind the bar. The guy really needed to lighten up.
When the Van Morrison selection changed to ‘Someone Like You’ it seemed only natural for her to crook her finger at him. When things started to go downhill, her policy was always to push the envelope. He couldn’t very well strangle her in front of all these people, could he?
If he tried surely someone would be brave enough to intervene.
Besides, she’d been itching to get her arms around him ever since she’d seen him touching her underwear the other night and figured this might be the only way that particular fantasy would ever come to true. “Come on, Shane, I need a partner.”
To her surprise, without a word of protest, he stalked over and wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her in so tight she let out a squeak. She half expected they’d be doing that dance from Mr. And Mrs. Smith where Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie nearly knocked each other senseless by bumping into walls, tables, and everything else imaginable, trying to cause each other bodily harm. But they didn’t.
Instead, tantalizing whiffs of aftershave mingled with soap and mint and tickled her nose. A not-from-the-cold shiver slid along her spine, sending out all kinds of messages to parts of her body that shouldn’t have been paying attention, but were.
“What are you up to?” His voice sounded strained and hoarse, as if he were fighting for control.
She tried to sound flippant despite the fact her hormones were bouncing around inside like ping pong balls. “It’s called fun. Maybe you should try it sometime.”
He growled something unintelligible into her ear. But she knew better than to ask for clarification.
Despite having the social skills of a poorly mannered five-year-old, he was an excellent dancer. She wasn’t even tempted to lead—not that he would have allowed her to anyway.
“We’ll talk later.” His jaw was clenched tight, leaving little room for interpretation.
What could he do, fire her over some music in between sets? That would be absurd.
She glanced around and, to her surprise, several other couples were on the dance floor. Funny, but while they were dancing, she hadn’t noticed.
* * *
She didn’t have to encourage people to come onto the dance floor in between the next few sets. Which made her feel good. Despite Shane’s wishes, people were having fun.
Afraid to go into the dressing room lest he have the opportunity to corner her, she circulated among the crowd. “Thanks for the dance earlier. I needed to get the audience up and out of their seats.”
The blond nodded. Glancing toward the bar, he held up his drink. “It doesn’t seem like the bartender is too happy.”
“Pay him no mind. He was born cranky.” She couldn’t help noticing that Shane appeared more bothered than usual. Which was interesting since prior to this moment, she wouldn’t have believed it was possible.
“Since we’ve already had our first dance, I’d better introduce myself.” He pointed to his chest. “I’m Patrick. And this is Nick. We’re Chicago cops.” Easing into a smile, he brought his hands around his mug of beer and smiled. “You’re a great singer.”
“Thanks, I’m glad you stopped in.”
While he seemed nice, he also seemed oddly uncomfortable. She couldn’t tell if it was one of those cop things, or it was just him.
He glanced around the room. “But your talent is wasted at a dump like this. I could probably get you hooked up at one of the other places in town. If you’re lucky, maybe Legends.”
She blinked. Only the crème de la crème sang at Buddy Guy’s Legends. Either this guy was blowing smoke or he really was connected. He pulled out his card and stuffed it into the palm of her hand. “Give me a call. Maybe we could go out some time and talk about it.” With that he left. Shane’s death stare followed him out the door.
* * *
Gabriella was with Donna in their dressing room, gathering their things after the last set of the night. “I t
hink the music in between sets was a great idea. It kind of keeps people in the mood.” Donna picked up her keys and purse.
“I’m not so sure Shane agrees. He seemed especially ticked off tonight.” She was nervous at the thought of being alone with him, especially when he appeared to be breathing fire.
Donna shrugged. “Don’t let him bother you. It’s pretty obvious he doesn’t like being here. That’s what his grumpiness is about.”
She wished she could believe that, but somehow it felt much more personal. “I don’t think he likes me.” Chewing on her lip, she contemplated the idea of asking Donna for a ride home, even though, if she understood the geography of the area, it was way out of her way. The last thing she wanted to do was be in a car with Shane right now.
Donna was thoughtful for a few seconds while she retrieved a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from her purse. “Actually, I think it’s the opposite. I suspect it’s the reason he hangs around so much now. He’s attracted to you, and it ticks him off. In case you haven’t noticed, the man thrives on being in control.”
“And being attracted to me makes him feel out of control?” she squeaked. This was something she hadn’t contemplated. Sure, she was doing her flirtatious thing, but to her knowledge, he hadn’t responded. Not that she would know what to do if he did since he scared the crap out of her most of the time.
“Absolutely. I would venture to say it freaks him out.”
They walked together out of the room, her mind still reeling with what Donna had said. It didn’t make a whole lot of sense, but in some way she didn’t want to think about, she was willing to entertain the possibility.
Shane was wiping down the bar and glanced up. “Wait inside, Gabriella. I’ll walk Donna to her car.”
Since it wasn’t unusual for him to do that, she didn’t think much about it. Most nights they would walk out together while Mack stayed behind finishing up the last few details. But sometimes Shane had a few things he needed to do before they left so she waited for him.
He sounded so calm and rational when he walked out with Donna she assumed he was okay with the new ideas she’d implemented during the evening. Even he had to admit they were a success. But when he returned, the look on his face let her know how naïve she’d been. His jaw was so rigid she thought he might pop the bone.
“You’re fired,” he grumbled, his lips barely moving as he spoke.
“What? You can’t do that.” She’d anticipated a go-around with him, but not this. “We have a contract.”
“Screw the contract. I’ll buy you out.” His normal scowl had somehow morphed into something even scarier. Right now Shane didn’t look as if he liked her. Not even one little bit.
“I don’t want to be bought out.” She tried to regain her composure. “It was just a little music. I don’t know why you’re getting so bent out of shape.” She wouldn’t let him intimidate her. Instead, she mimicked his stance, placing her hands on her hips. “Listen, we don’t have to like each other. We can ignore each other for all I care.”
“Nobody can ignore you. You won’t let them.”
Ouch. That hurt. Even if it might be the teensiest bit true, it was mean-spirited.
She huffed out an exasperated sigh. “If it’s all the same to you, I’ll find my own way home. In fact, I don’t want you picking me up or bringing me here ever again. Being alone with you in the car is like being sentenced to death row.”
He shook his head. “I never claimed to be pleasant.”
“No. But you go out of your way to be mean to me.” She thought about Donna’s earlier observation that Shane was attracted to her. Right now it seemed more than a little absurd. She yanked on the handle to the front door, ready to go outside and flag down a cab. She turned to give him one last parting comment with the hope he might feel the slightest bit guilty. “For the record, I was doing you a favor. You wanted more people, I got you more people.”
“No, you wanted more people, not me. I want this place to fold up and die a quick death. You’re the one who wanted a bigger crowd, a bigger audience to showcase your talent. I hope you’re happy. You got what you wanted, even if you screwed me in the process.”
She jutted out her hip to prop open the door. “How could getting more people in here be a bad thing for you? That doesn’t even make sense.”
“It does when you managed to bring in the last person I wanted to see here.” For the first time since beginning his tirade, his voice softened.
“What are you talking about?”
“The cop you were so friendly with is my stepbrother, Patrick.” He drew in a breath. “No doubt he’ll make it his business to make my life a living hell once again.”
“What do you mean?” Even though she couldn’t have known, regret at what she’d done started to seep inside her.
“He’s going to sic everyone from his cop buddies to the health department to ATF on my ass just to prove he can.”
“No way.” While she muttered the denial under her breath as she wandered outside, she couldn’t help wondering if he were right. Clearly there was some very bad blood between them. Would a family stoop that low for some kind of misdirected vengeance?
Preoccupied, she walked to the curb and peered down the street. Seeing a taxi sign atop a car a few blocks down, she raised her hand to catch the cabbie’s attention.
That was the moment when she felt the poke of cold metal against her skin. She didn’t have to turn around to know what it was.
“Give me your money, lady.”
With her whole body trembling, she gave him her purse. As he ran with it down the block, she proceeded to scream her bloody head off. Then she sat down on the curb and began to sing.
CHAPTER FIVE
Shane was still seething when he heard her scream. Immediately, his chest constricted. If this was more of her diva antics, he’d kill her.
He let out a string of curses as he crashed through the door and into the street. As soon as Patrick showed up tonight, he knew there would be even more trouble ahead. He hadn’t imagined it would be this quick, and he sure hadn’t thought the scumbag would go after Gabriella. Then again, he wouldn’t put anything past Patrick if he thought he could screw over Shane in the process.
His heart was still in his throat when he spotted her about thirty feet away. Sitting on the curb, she was singing. Singing?
“What the hell happened?”
“My…purse…” She pointed in the general direction of the alley and continued to belt out a Billie Holliday tune before moving on to Etta James.
He sprinted toward the alley, hoping whoever had done this was still around so he could beat the crap out of him. But when he got there, it was empty except for a few stray cats.
Just to make sure, he followed the alley until the end. Nothing. As he jogged back towards Gabriella, he spotted her purse. While he hadn’t caught the guy, at least he found her purse.
He was out of breath from the adrenaline rush once he got back. “I didn’t catch him. But he dropped this in the alley.”
“Am I still fired?” She tentatively reached out her hand.
Despite the circumstances, he smiled. “No, you’re not still fired.” The last thing he wanted to do was kick her when she was down, even if getting her out of his life seemed like the most prudent thing to do.
“Good.” She grabbed her purse and riffled through the contents. Immediately, she emitted a sigh of relief. “My iPod.” Then closed her eyes for a second. “My money’s gone, but I still have my wallet and my phone. Looks like I’m only missing about thirty dollars.” She chewed her lip. “You would have thought the iPod or my phone would be more valuable, but I say thank goodness for dumb criminals.”
He pulled out his wallet and gave her thirty dollars. “It’s my fault it happened, so I should reimburse you.”
He’d let Gabriella venture out alone. What an idiot.
She nodded but didn’t say anything more, which was a first as long as he’d known her.
He grasped her arm and led her to his car.
“Why were you singing?” Once she settled in her seat, he asked the question, partly out of curiosity, partly to entice her into talking.
The music of BB King filled the car as she turned in her seat. “Huh? When?”
“I heard you scream, but when I came outside you were singing. You told me somebody stole your purse and pointed me in the right direction and then went back to singing.”
She twisted her fingers in her lap. This was definitely a new side to Gabriella.
“When I’m nervous or scared, I start singing.” She shrugged. “Half the time I don’t even realize I’m doing it. Somehow it makes me feel less anxious.”
“I guess that makes sense in a Gabriella kind of way.”
She plunked her head against the headrest and sighed. “I forgot to call the police.”
That was the last thing he needed or wanted right now. “This time of night it will take forever. You’ll be last in line after the stabbings and gunshots and all that other stuff that happens late at night.”
“True.” She sighed. “But I should file a police report.”
“It’s late.”
“Last I heard the police were open twenty-four hours.” She straightened in her seat and stared at him.
He grimaced. “I’ve got an appointment in less than four hours.”
“This isn’t about any appointment, and you know it. Don’t get me into the middle of this war with your brother. I had my purse stolen. A crime has been committed.”
“You got your stuff back.”
“This is ridiculous. You’re so afraid of the cops, you won’t even involve them when they should be.”
“I’m not afraid of anything.” What happened to that quiet Gabriella of a few minutes ago? He should have enjoyed that hiccup of peace while it lasted. “Don’t you get it? That wasn’t just any punk kid. He got paid to do what he did. Patrick wants you to report the crime.”
“You are so freakin’ paranoid. You’re not even making sense.” She sounded tired and grumpy. “I was fired and mugged all within thirty seconds and now you’re forcing me to listen to your cops-are-out-to-get-me paranoia. Enough already.”