Vik (Shot Callers Book 2)

by Belle Aurora

  I had lost count of the number of times I held my phone in my hand, writing out a text or had my finger hovering above his name. Just wanting to share myself with him like I had since we were teenagers.

  The unfortunate fact was he wasn’t mine to call anymore.

  It was rough.

  Suddenly, after thirteen years, I didn’t know where I fit in. And it was a new experience.

  Alessio looked at me a long minute. I felt his eyes on me, looking hard, searching for something. I didn’t know whether he found what he was looking for, but he sighed, then finally said, “All right, get up. We’ll get coffee and”—his lip curled as he said the dreaded word—“talk.”

  He slipped out of bed, wearing nothing but gray boxer briefs, and as he dragged on his jeans, I stealthily took out my phone. He sprayed himself with deodorant before pulling on a navy long-sleeved tee. When he bent over to put on his shoes, I quickly snapped a pic of his butt and sent it to Cora. He stepped into the joining bathroom and began to brush his teeth as I got a text back.

  Cora: Um… is that who I think it is?

  Me: It is.

  Cora: Why are you torturing me??? I thought you loved me! *crying face*

  Cora: Also, FAP FAP FAP FAP FAP

  I laughed out loud, and Alessio’s head peeked out of the bathroom, his mouth frothy and white with foaming toothpaste. He made a curious face but had the sense not to ask.

  Me: Gotta go. We’re getting coffee. Talk later.

  Cora: Talk me up, bitch. x

  Me: Always. x

  When we walked down the hall side by side, Alessio stopped into his father’s office to tell him where we were headed, and when Uncle Laredo looked between us, a tender smile graced his lips. “I like that. This is nice. You should spend some time together, with family.”

  With the promise of bringing him a coffee upon our return, we got into Alessio’s black BMW M2, and he drove us to a nearby café. Once seated, I told him what I wanted, and he went to the counter to place the order. He returned with his cappuccino and my hazelnut latte, then went back to the counter a moment. When he placed a slice of chocolate cake in front of me, I glanced up at him, surprised.

  His shoulder jerked lightly. “You look like you could use a little sweetness right now.”

  A sluggish smile stretched my lips. If that wasn’t the nicest thing Alessio had ever said to me. “I’m starting to get what Cora sees in you.”

  “Nas,” he moaned in irritation. “Please don’t start. I’m not in the mood.”

  “I know I give you a lot of shit. That’s just what family does, Alessio.” I brought a crumb of cake up to my lips. “But I was being serious.” I rolled my eyes, as if saying it out loud pained me. “You’re a good guy.”

  I saw the very moment he recognized my sincerity. He looked taken aback. When he cleared his throat and let out an unsure sounding, “Ah… thanks, I guess,” I found myself feeling something more than impartiality for this broken and scarred man.

  “You’re welcome.”

  A small bout of silence passed before Alessio shuffled on his chair and lifted his coffee to his lips, sipping. “I heard what happened yesterday.” Yeah, he would have. “That’s pretty fucked, even for a cold bastard like me.”

  I nodded down at my cake. It was. And I didn’t know how to make it better.

  He put down his cup. “I’m surprised everyone left in one piece.”

  “They almost didn’t,” I revealed. “I thought Vik was going to rip Philippe’s head off and piss on it.”

  Alessio frowned. “Nothing new there. They’ve been at each other’s throats for months.”

  Years, really. But…

  I went over what he said and how he said it. I heard something in that statement. “What do you mean ‘for months’?”

  “They don’t get along. It’s gotta be difficult for ’em, you know, at the club.”

  Uh, what now?

  At the club?

  Both of my brows rose, and I sputtered, “Excuse me?”

  Alessio blew out a breath, looking mildly frustrated. “Aphrodite’s Kiss. Your ex-fiancé and your main squeeze, working together.” He shook his head at me, puzzled. “Any of this ringing a bell, princess?”

  A chill went through me, and my entire body turned numb.

  No. No, it sure as hell was not.

  I spoke very slowly. “Vik’s been working at Aphrodite’s Kiss?”

  My question brought on an instant change in his face. Alessio blinked at me, falling back in his seat. It took him a minute to say, “You didn’t know.”

  Ding-ding-ding. Give the man a prize.

  My mouth dry, I all but croaked, “How long?”

  Alessio, knowing he said too much, just shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  “Alessio.” It was a plea, plain and simple.

  His shoulders fell, and he dipped his head, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “Six or seven months.”

  Okay. All right. Don’t freak out, Nas. Be cool.

  But I did not feel cool. I felt barely composed. “And what does he do there?”

  Alessio reached up to scratch at his neck, and the move told me he was uncomfortable telling me what he was about to. “Odd jobs. Mostly security. He’s a good door bitch.” He spoke soberly, and suddenly, what Philippe said to Vik the day before ran through my head on loop.

  Get the fuck out of my way, you second-rate mall cop.

  My gut twisted. I felt like I was imploding on myself, and I was pretty sure I knew the answer to the question I was about to ask. “What are his hours?”

  “Nas…” Alessio attempted to be Switzerland. Neutral. “I don’t think I should be talking to you about this. Maybe you should talk to Vik.”

  My brain snapped like a rubber band. I grated out, “Don’t you think I would if I could? He’s impossible. Every time I try to talk to him, he fights me on purpose, so one of two things happens. We either fight or fuck. I just want answers.”

  Alessio took in a deep breath and spoke on an exhale. “He works Friday through Monday, two thirty ’til five.”

  I was so confused. The bewildered word that left me sounded strained, even to my ears. “Why?”

  “Think that’s pretty obvious, Nas,” Alessio answered with a cold laugh. “He needs the money.”

  That was crazy. He had money.

  As Vik’s girl, I was privy to most everything, his finances being one of those things. I’d seen the accounts myself. Hell, at the later stage of our relationship, I’d even do his banking for him, paying his bills while he slept with his head in my lap, a frown permanently etched on his face.

  Vik did well for himself. At least, he had when we were together. Sure, he wasn’t Scrooge McDuck, diving into pits full of gold coins, but he had savings enough that I wasn’t worried about him paying his rent or missing payments on his car.

  A terrible feeling twisted the pit of my stomach. It sat heavy, like a rock, until it overshadowed every other emotion striving to be heard.

  My internal dialogue must’ve shown some, because when Alessio asked, “How much do you earn, Nas?” my head snapped up.

  “I don’t….” I shook my head, confused by the question. “What?”

  “How much do you earn?” he asked again.

  I wasn’t 100 percent sure, but I thought it was close to the figure I gave. “Around seven and a half a month.”

  “Okay.” Alessio got out his phone and got into the calculator. “That’s ninety grand a year.”

  Yeah. That sounded about right.

  Then he asked, “Do you know how much the average bartender earns in Jersey?”

  No, I didn’t.

  But he told me. “Anywhere between thirteen and seventeen dollars an hour, all right?”

  What?

  No way.

  That sounded awfully low.

  He went on. “I don’t know about you guys, but we pay around the sixteen mark. And if you’ve got a bartender earning sixteen bucks an hour for fifteen
hours a week, do you know what their paycheck looks like?”

  My stomach sank.

  I had no clue.

  “That’s two hundred and forty dollars a week. So, a little over a grand a month. About twelve and a half a year. Now, these are all just figures here. Plus tips, less taxes and life expenses, do you think a person can live off that alone? What about a single parent who needs to feed and clothe their kids? How about someone with health issues? Or the sole supporter of their family?”

  I was beginning to get the point.

  My tongue felt like sandpaper in my mouth, my reply full of regret. “No.”

  Alessio began to nod in agreement. “Now, I’m not saying Vik earns so little, because I know he doesn’t, but every now and again, it’s good to take a look at what your employees are earning versus what the lucky sons of bitches like us earn. Because it’s crumbs, babe. I can tell you right now that Vik ain’t earning ninety grand a year to sling drinks and roster bar bitches on, you get me?”

  I did. And none of it sat well with me.

  Alessio was not a stupid man. So, when he said, “I don’t know what his circumstances are, but if he says he needs the money, I’m inclined to believe him,” it broke me. Because I didn’t know.

  The timeline matched up. Anika was right. And my insides burned with the realization.

  Vik wasn’t cheating on me. He’d been working. And I punished him for it by dumping his ass.

  I felt ill. My breath left me in a whoosh.

  I closed my eyes, breathed deep, and whispered, “Oh no.”

  What have I done?

  Instead of asking him about it, I assumed and judged and misread everything. All of that and he still looked after me, sleeping beside me, lending me his strength when I had none.

  A sudden thought hit me.

  Am I the villain in our story?

  My eyes opened, and I blinked away the sting behind my lids. I rocked lightly and wrung my hands together, just needing to move. My voice was quiet. “I think I’ve made a huge mistake, Les.”

  When I looked up at him, the expression he wore was one of concern. “Can I help?”

  “No.” I huffed out an acidic laugh before running my cold hands down my face, resting them on my warm cheeks. Shame tore through me in red, hot waves. “No one can.”

  My inner turmoil ate away at my sanity, and long after Alessio had taken us back to his house and I drove myself home, I sat alone in the dark and tried in vain to put the pieces of this puzzle together. But I couldn’t. I just couldn’t.

  None of it made sense.

  Feeling a little lost and rather alone, I needed clarity so, I went to Sasha’s, let myself in, and waltzed down to his office. He sat there, looking down at a document in his hand. I knocked lightly, and his brow furrowed as he lifted his head.

  He looked tired. And, yes, I realized that whatever shitty way he was feeling was entirely his own fault, but he was still my brother.

  I lifted my fingers in a light wave.

  “Nastasia.” The small smile that lifted his mouth was almost sad. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

  “Are you ever?” I very nearly scoffed.

  “No.” His smile spread. “I suppose not.”

  What followed was silence and a lot of it.

  I wished to unload. I wanted to tell him a hundred things, about Philippe, about Vik, but one look at his weary face told me that today was not the day. And I was ever a merciful sister.

  He spoke without emotion. “Are you just going to stand there all day, or are you going to yell at me like you planned to?”

  A deep sadness flowed through me.

  Was that what he thought of me? Was I really such a witch?

  My brow lowered as I walked into the room, dropped my gaze, and let out an almost offended, “I wasn’t going to yell at you.”

  “No?” Sasha chuckled roughly, but there was no humor in it. None. His sigh sounded defeated. “I think you may be the only one.”

  Oh hell.

  Nope. I did not like it. Not even a little. And suddenly, my legs were moving.

  I don’t know why I did it. We were not the type of family. But I felt that I needed it almost as much as he did.

  My feet carried me around to him, to the back of his chair, and he watched me with caution. When I stood directly behind him, I put my hands to his large shoulders and bent down, sliding my arms around him. He did not react. And, yes, it felt awkward, but I thought to combat the yucky feeling by closing my eyes and breathing in the oddly comforting woodsy scent of him.

  I embraced my brother tightly, burying my nose into the dip of his shoulder, then uttered quietly, “Everything’s gonna be okay, Sash.” I finished on a squeeze.

  It felt like forever, and just as I thought to release him, his hand came up to rest on my forearm. It was careful and light, as though he did not know what to do with the affection.

  Lord. Something about that made the sadness inside me swell.

  My brother may not have been a terribly good man, but he did the best he could with the life he was born into. He went from father figure, to mob boss, to club owner within a few hectic years. It had to have been difficult for him, like asking a predator to stop preying on the weak when it was all he ever knew.

  It was almost cruel. After all, you wouldn’t ask a lion to turn vegan.

  And, Lord, he tried. He tried so hard.

  Sasha’s hand gently squeezed my arm, and he cleared his throat before he spoke. “You need something?”

  “No.” I pulled away but let my hands linger on his shoulders.

  Ask the question.

  He turned to face me, his bored blink and casual wave telling me to spill it.

  Ask him.

  “I was just wondering…”

  Just ask. Say it.

  Say ‘How much does Vik earn?’

  “Yes,” Sasha prompted impatiently.

  And although the question remained poised at the tip of my tongue, my stomach twisted with regret as I cleared my throat, shook my head and instead said, “I was wondering if you wanted to split dinner with me. I feel like Chinese but don’t want to eat alone.” He watched me guardedly, as though he knew that wasn’t what I was going to say originally. So, for good measure, I added, “Plus, I thought you could use the company.”

  Coward.

  My brother’s careful, slightly delayed response had me smiling softly. “Sure. I’d like that.”

  As it turned out I could have used the company myself. Even if that company was Sasha.

  13

  Nastasia

  I was going to fuck a bitch up.

  As I kept peering up at the offending couple, my lips thinned, and I thought back on what I had done so badly in my short life that I was being punished like this.

  I was a decent person. I didn’t lean one way or another, good or bad, but I minded my business when necessary and only got involved when required. Always spared a smile for children and the elderly. I ate well. I didn’t drink in excess. I hadn’t touched drugs since my twenties. Yeah, I had an attitude, but I was loyal, kindhearted, and generous to those closest to me. Brought up Russian Orthodox, I no longer followed any specific religion but never begrudged or ridiculed someone for their beliefs. I donated clothes and money to charity, sponsored a child in a third world country, and tried to do my part to be kinder to the environment.

  Sure, I could have been nicer to people, but had you met some?

  They sucked.

  If I could wrap up my life in a neat little bow, I wasn’t a bad person, I hadn’t committed any real wrongs, and my family loved me.

  So, why did life insist on being a rabid bitch to me?

  My blood boiled as I seethed inwardly, my face the picture of calm. The music blared, and I glanced over at the stage as Bleeding Hearts’ own Diamond Dozen danced in their little sexy outfits. Anika slid past me, reaching over to grab a bottle of Patrón Gran Platinum, pouring the shots effortlessly. Tonight, she was dre
ssed as a slutty Red Riding Hood. Our newest bar bitch, Francesca, moved around us in a flawless dance, taking orders as she went. The cowgirl costume she wore was so tiny the curve of her ass showed every time she reached up to retrieve liquor bottles off the top shelf.

  I knew some women had a problem with how we were dressed, but my view was that it was only oppressive if you felt oppressed, and none of the girls here did. In fact, most of us felt empowered by the fact that we could make a man do just about anything we asked simply by flashing a dude an inch of skin.

  Like a well-oiled machine, we worked seamlessly, and we got shit done.

  It was a Friday night, and we’d be open until 2:00 a.m. It was busier than usual, but that wasn’t a bad thing. Our tips alone would be completely worth the excess ass grabs.

  The apprehension in me had eased some, but knowing what I knew now, I understood that Vik would not be climbing into my bed this night. He would have to work ’til dawn, and that brought on mild angst within myself that I would just have to figure out on my own. I couldn’t be shielded by his arms forever.

  The bar flap lifted, and Birdie, the bar manager, sashayed on in, taking an order without pause. Her brown skin shimmered in the low light, her cheekbones lighting up with every flash on stage. Her eyes drifted to where my laser vision was pointed. She poured a couple of whisky neats, took the customer’s money, then yelled over the music, “Rein it in, girl.”

  My teeth were locked tight, and my eye was twitching.

  I was trying, but it was hard.

  As though he could feel me burning holes into the skull of the woman seated beside him, laughing openly and touching his forearm, his brow knotted, and he twisted his body, his gaze resting right on me. The moment his eyes met mine, I lowered them, but it didn’t matter. I was sure he’d seen me.

  And, yeah. Maybe tonight wouldn’t have sucked so much if Fawn, one of the newest members of the Bleeding Hearts family, hadn’t casually stopped by the bar with her tray, an excited look on her face and an innocently happy “Isn’t Vik just the sweetest?”