Heartless (Crossbreed Series Book 9)

by Dannika Dark

  “As long as nobody touches me, I’ll be fine.”

  Flynn jumped in front of me. “If anyone touches you without consent, let me know who the scamp is, and I’ll take care of it. It’s not just the leashed we protect. We have rules about staff, and anyone who disobeys those rules gets blacklisted. Got it?”

  I folded my arms and tilted my tattooed arm toward him. “Including you?”

  Flynn sighed and gave me a little eye roll. “That was different.”

  “Grab me again and you’ll find one of my heels in your eye socket.”

  “Duly noted.” He tipped his orange glasses down his nose while looking behind me. “We part from here.”

  Flynn danced off toward a group of people in latex. They were lounging on large plush sofas, ignoring the panther that was knocking glasses off a low table.

  Flynn literally had the worst job in this place from what I could tell.

  When I reached the bar, I lifted the counter to make my way behind it. “Where do you want me?”

  “Everywhere,” Simone said. “Beer coolers are down below, but ask if they want tap.”

  I glanced down at the coolers. “Are you kidding me? There’s only one brand.”

  “Of course there is. We only sell Breed beer from one distributor.”

  “Is there any difference?”

  Simone patted her hand on the bar. “The difference is the money doesn’t go to humans. It goes to a local brewery run by Shifters, and Shifters are the ones who order it most. Hard liquor is on the wall behind you.”

  “Breed alcohol?”

  She smiled and pinched my chin. “You’re catching on. We have red and white wine but no varieties. And we only accept cash,” she said, pointing to a sign. “If anyone wants to open a tab, use their alias ID to enter into the system. You won’t have to do that often since almost everyone pays in cash. People don’t come here to drink all night long, but they like a little to loosen up.”

  Simone gave me a quick demonstration of how to use the computer, which looked cut and dry.

  “Keep the bar clean. Spilled magic is messy, and it’ll hurt our reputation. If someone orders a Sensor special, fix the drink and hand it to me. If I’m not available, grab Rena on the other side.” Simone pointed to a row of sinks. “That’s your cleaning station. Make sure you rinse all the magic off the glasses and toss the dirty rags. We have an endless supply under that cabinet.”

  “Got it.”

  Simone took a clean rag and wiped a wet spot on the wood bar. “That’s what they all say.”

  “Why do you think Sensors are better for a job like this?”

  “The owner wants more like you, but I do just fine. Also, a Mage is pretty useless at spiking drinks.”

  Simone cracked open a beer bottle and handed it to an older man in an expensive suit. “It’s always a pleasure seeing you, Mr. Crawford. Let me know if you need anything else.” The gentleman tipped his head and carried his beer across the room.

  “He didn’t pay you,” I said. “Why didn’t you open a tab?”

  “That’s Mr. Crawford. You don’t ever ask him to pay.” She pointed to a laminated menu on the bar. “Memorize the prices.”

  A woman sidled up. “I’ll have the same.”

  I popped off the lid and set her beer on a napkin. “Why doesn’t he pay?” I asked Simone, returning to our conversation.

  “The owner has a short list of VIP customers. I’ll keep an eye out and show you who they are. The why is none of our business. Good luck, and wear something cooler. It gets hot back here.”

  Cooler? Was she kidding? I was practically naked in these nothing shorts and corset.

  A burly man slid a few bills across the bar. “Vodka neat.”

  After serving him, I put the money in the till and realized I had no pockets for tips. “Simone?” I waved a few bills.

  Many human bars divided the tips, so I wasn’t sure of the protocol. Simone gestured under the bar, where I found two black boxes. One had a decorative S by the slot, so I put my money in the one beside it that had no name or letter.

  When I stood up, I nearly howled with laughter.

  Claude set a serving tray on the bar and dazzled me with his shimmering torso. “One screwdriver and a pint.”

  I leaned across the bar and admired his gold shorts. “Where do you keep your tips?”

  Placing his hands on the bar, he gave me a curt look. “The red box with my initials.”

  When I glanced underneath the bar, I spotted five boxes on a different shelf—each a different color and labeled with monograms.

  “Can I get an Angel’s Kiss?” A bald man with crisp blue eyes gave me an impatient look.

  “What the hell’s that?” I murmured to Claude.

  Simone appeared and filled a glass with a red liquid before swirling her finger inside. After serving the man, she pointed to a row of colorful bottles on a lower shelf behind us. Each had a label with an unusual name. “Most people order the standard drinks, but if you get something you haven’t heard of, find the bottle behind you and fill a glass. Then give it to me. I’ll give it back to you, and we split the tip since I did half the work.”

  “Are you kidding me?”

  She shrugged and walked away. “That’s why we have a high turnaround with your kind.”

  “That’s bullshit,” I muttered.

  Claude frowned, and the cloth tied around his eyes did nothing to conceal his disapproval. “Do you really care?”

  “We need to pretend we don’t know each other.”

  Claude took the drinks with a reluctant sigh and swaggered across the room to a sectional. Two men wanted to slip money into his shorts, but Claude collected his tips and walked off. He had the same light tattoo as me, only his was on his lower back. Probably so customers could admire his body without the distraction.

  At least he wasn’t one of the dancers.

  Eight hours into my shift, I wanted to rip off my corset and dive into a swimming pool. Did the air vents even work? I hadn’t noticed. When the club got busier, I was constantly on the move. As it turned out, most people ordered Sensor-spiked drinks. The majority of the bottles behind me were vodka. Nothing special, someone had just added color to brighten them up. Selling spiked bottles was illegal, so that meant handing over every single glass to either Simone or Rena. It cut my tips in half—not that I should have cared since this wasn’t my real job, but it was the principle of the thing.

  Clearly there was a hierarchy among workers, which placed bartenders at the top of the food chain and Flynn’s crew at the bottom. I hadn’t met the manager yet—apparently she kept busy on the upper floors. And I was still trying to get used to handlers leading customers around by a leash as if they were pets. That turned out to be pretty popular—at one point there was a scramble when new people came in and couldn’t find a handler. Some of the handlers ended up walking three submissives at once.

  Another girl came in to take Rena’s place on the second shift. Simone worked both shifts, and I remembered her remark to Flynn about money. She was probably trying to recoup whatever he’d pilfered from her.

  I spotted Shepherd skulking about, striking up conversations with customers and reading emotional imprints.

  When we finally hit a lull, Simone held one of those little electric fans in front of her face. “Did Flynn show you the staff room? That’s where we take our breaks.”

  “Yep.”

  “It’s clean, so you can eat in there. Just don’t leave behind a mess. Keep your street clothes in a locker and change before you leave.”

  “How do I know which lockers are available?”

  “The ones that don’t have a padlock. If you don’t want someone stealing your valuables, bring a lock. I keep a close eye on the tips, but we’ve had a few things go missing from people who didn’t secure their lockers.” She returned the fan to a lower shelf. “Do me a favor and watch the tip boxes. I’m taking a break.” Simone slinked around me and then gripped my arm.
“And if I ever catch you stealing my money, I’ll cut you into a million pieces.”

  After she sauntered off, I headed to the far end of the bar and worked my way around.

  “Give me a Tickler.”

  “You’ll have to wait,” I informed the man with the Viking beard. “How about a pint to tide you over?”

  “I asked for a fucking Tickler. Are you new around here? Because I’m not, and this isn’t how you treat customers.”

  Irritated, I grabbed the green vodka and filled a glass. I wanted to keep my eye on the tip boxes, and that meant not abandoning my station. “Hey, can you tickle this?” I asked the blond bartender on the opposite side of the bar. I could see her through the gaps in the center shelves. “Sorry, I don’t know your name.”

  “Busy,” she said tersely.

  Yep. She was giving me the cold shoulder.

  “Just put your fucking finger in the glass. Pretty please.”

  “You mean this finger?” She gave me the middle finger before serving a large order.

  I grumbled and headed back to deliver my virgin drink to the Viking.

  “Whiskey on the rocks!” someone called out.

  I poured drinks, moved fast, and collected my tips like a robot.

  “Hey, are you trying to screw me over?” the Viking asked. “This isn’t spiked.”

  “I said you’ll have to wait,” I fired back.

  “You can’t just serve me a virgin drink and expect to get away with it.”

  As he looked for another bartender, I noticed the leather collar on his neck. Viktor did say I needed to stand out. I put my hands on the counter and glowered. “You’ll take whatever the hell I give you.”

  He furrowed his brow. “Do you think I’m gonna pay for it?”

  I leaned in and locked eyes with him. “Oh, you’re gonna pay for it. And when you finish that glass like a good boy, you’re going to order another. If you’ve got a problem with taking orders, you can lick my boots.”

  His lips parted, and he slowly downed his drink.

  “That goes for anyone else,” I said, speaking to the onlookers who weren’t used to seeing the bartender lose their shit. “Until Simone gets back, you’ll take whatever the hell I give you. I’m in charge here. If anyone decides to stiff me on a tip, I’ll hurt you so bad that you’ll scream like a newborn.”

  People surrounded the bar, and a line formed.

  “I’ll have a beer,” the next man said.

  I filled a glass and set it on a napkin.

  “I wanted a bottle,” he said meekly, his pupils dilated.

  I lifted his glass and gulped it down. “When you learn how to behave, I’ll give you a refill. Next!”

  He left bills on the bar before hurrying off to a nearby table. The next man approached and wanted a whiskey sour. Instead, I grabbed whiskey, ice, bitters, lemon, and a sugar cube.

  “That’s not a sour,” he said glumly.

  I set the old-fashioned on a napkin. “That drink isn’t you. This is you. Understood?”

  With a salacious glint in his eyes, he left me a stack of bills and trotted off with his drink.

  Before I knew it, handlers were standing in line with leashed customers. I was attracting a certain type of crowd, and they tipped whatever I asked them to tip.

  After some time, Flynn stopped by and rested his inked arms on the bar. “You’ve got a knack for this. Simone won’t like you stealing all the good tips.”

  “I doubt I’m the first who’s ever done this,” I said while cleaning a glass.

  “Most people here like their job, and they follow the rules so they won’t get fired. That usually means not yelling at the customers.” He wagged his finger at me. “You’re a rebel.”

  “So I’ve been told.”

  My eyes widened when a panther sprinted across the room and pounced on a man. “Watch the bar!”

  I flung up the countertop and flashed across the room. A female worker in all leather ran over and tried to grab the leash on the panther, but she couldn’t get close enough. The man waved a chair like a lion tamer.

  I sharpened my light as I moved in. Shifters made my pulse jump. Gathering my courage, I gripped the panther’s collar and gave it a hard yank.

  “Down!” I ordered him. “Get down.” I held out my left hand, ready to blast him if he so much as turned in my direction.

  The panther growled fiercely and then retreated.

  “Thanks.” The walker collected his leash and wrapped it once around her wrist. “He’s not usually like this, but that man wouldn’t stop pestering him.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “Did he touch him?”

  She nodded. “They can’t pet Shifters. It’s not allowed.”

  “I’ll deal with it.”

  After she led the feline away, I yanked the chair out of the man’s hands. “You broke the rules. You’re out.”

  He tucked his shirt back in. “Misunderstanding.”

  “The misunderstanding was you not paying attention to the rules. Out.”

  He held up his hands. “Won’t do it again. No need to get your panties in a twist.”

  Based on the fact he hadn’t fought the panther, I guessed he wasn’t a Mage. So I gripped his forearm and yanked him forward. Before he could resist, I blasted him with my other hand. He recoiled and threatened me with his red, glowing palms.

  Damn Sensors.

  Sharpening my light, I widened my stance. “I’m only gonna ask once.”

  “Touch me and I’ll touch you back.” He grinned at the challenge and wiggled his fingers.

  I hurled a chair at him. Before it hit the ground, I flashed behind him and kicked the back of his knee with my heel. When his knees buckled, I grappled his shoulders and slammed enough volts in him to make my point crystal clear without killing him. As he fell to the ground, the man seized my hands, and an unbearable pain engulfed me like an inferno.

  I shrieked and wrenched my hands away. My mind knew that nothing was happening to me, but every nerve ending in my body convinced me I was burning alive, and I desperately slapped my arms as if putting out flames. When that proved a waste of time, I grimaced and found the courage to fight through the agony long enough to knock him unconscious with another blast of energy.

  Then I kicked him once for good measure.

  As my skin cooled, it was as if someone had tossed ice water onto my raw, burned flesh. The magic wasn’t wearing off fast enough, so I stalked to the bar, stole a drink from someone’s hand, and downed it.

  Sweat beaded on my brow. When I noticed the line of customers watching me, I waved them off. “Find another bartender. I’m taking a break.”

  Once behind the bar, I poured a double shot of tequila.

  Flynn clucked his tongue. “You have to watch out for Sensors. The manager thinks they make good bouncers, but people like us are the only ones who can control a situation.”

  “Us?” I returned the tequila bottle to its home. “I didn’t see you doing anything to help.”

  He shrugged. “Not in my pay grade. If they give me a raise, I might pitch in. But I don’t earn tips, and my shit wages aren’t enough to risk my neck.” Flynn glanced over his shoulder and sighed as he pushed away from the bar. “Do me a favor and don’t break so many chairs next time. I have to crawl around and look for the small bits of wood.” He trudged off toward the mess and then dragged the Sensor out of the building.

  An elderly man in a fine suit took the barstool across from me. “That was an impressive show.”

  I recognized Mr. Crawford, Simone’s VIP. “Would you like a drink? Beer, right?”

  He laced his fingers together and smiled, so I served him a cold beer.

  After sipping his drink, he set the bottle on the napkin and gave me a congenial grin. “I’m John Crawford.”

  “R-Robin White,” I said, almost slipping and saying my real name.

  “What did he give you?”

  Uncertain of what Crawford meant, I frowned.

&nb
sp; “The Sensor,” he clarified. “What did he make you feel?”

  A regular signaled for two more beers, so I quickly served him. “Fire.”

  “Yowzer.” Mr. Crawford rested his chin against his fist. “You seem like a tough broad. I’ve heard a firebrand can sting for hours.”

  “So can my energy punch.”

  He chuckled as he scooted off the barstool. “I just wanted to introduce myself since you’re new. I hope to see you again, Miss White.”

  As I watched him walk away, I considered how careful I needed to be when fighting Sensors. I’d spent so much time training with Niko and Christian that it hadn’t occurred to me to ask Shepherd for pointers. I’d never considered Sensors a threat.

  Until now.

  Chapter 8

  When I reached my hotel, I collected my card key from the manager and took the elevator up to my room. Man, what a night. Someone was supposed to have left a bag in my room with all my approved clothing and personal items.

  I could have worked until dawn, but Simone made me go home after hearing what had happened with the Sensor. She probably wanted me to take off early so she could collect more tips. This was starting to feel like my real life and not an undercover job. I could actually envision myself bartending for a living.

  Once inside the room, I flipped the light switch by the door and jumped with surprise when I saw a man sitting by the windows. My heart ricocheted in my chest for a brief moment before I recognized him.

  Christian stood up. “Didn’t mean to put a fright in you.”

  I tossed my money-stuffed bag that Flynn had lent me on the bed. “Are you supposed to be here?”

  He strode toward me and touched my cardigan. “What’s this?”

  “A loaner. I have to cover myself up walking home.”

  Christian smiled and traced his finger between my breasts. “They don’t arrest anyone for prostitution on this side of town.”

  “That’s not the reason.” I shucked off the sweater and let it drop to the floor.