The music is pretty loud and for once, I’m grateful for the eardrum splitting decibel level of the music.
Emma snatches the tray I’m holding. “I’m still on the clock. I have to work.”
“Okay. Don’t let me hold you. I’m going to stick around until after Sasha’s set. Can you do me a favor?”
“What?” She narrows her eyes.
“If you see the asshole who’s been bothering Sasha, point him out to me.”
Her eyes gleam in the shifting colors of the strobe lights on the stage, reflecting blue, orange, and red. She nods quickly. “I will definitely do that. He always walks the floor around eleven o’clock.”
“Give me your phone.”
She reaches into her pocket and pulls out an ancient flip phone. I take it from her fingers and dial my own number. Then I hang up.
“Text me when you see him.”
She stares at me for a long moment, and then nods. I watch the sway of her hips as she walks away.
For the next hour, I listen as Sasha sings everything from jazz standards to covers of popular songs. She has a soft, sultry voice that throbs in your blood and makes you think of twisted sheets and a different kind of rhythm all together. My phone buzzes and I pull it out.
- - - He’s here. In the red suit.
I look behind me. Emma is standing a few tables away. When she catches my eye, she nods her head to the right. There’s a short man with a tragic comb-over walking on the edge of the dance floor. Two large men follow him. I toss back the last of my beer before I get up. It’s a lot more crowded now so I have to weave in between tables and pockets of people dancing and talking to reach him. He looks up as I approach.
“Are you Lattimer?”
He takes a step forward and his goons crowd in closer, too. I stand to my full height and flex beneath my jacket. It only takes a glance to tell that these two won’t be a problem but Eli asked me to keep it clean. So, I’m hoping to avoid a fight.
“Who wants to know?”
“I’m a friend of Sasha’s. I’m just here checking things out. I look out for her. Make sure no one bothers her.”
“Did she say someone was bothering her?”
“I wanted to see for myself.”
He comes closer and his goons follow. They’re crowding around me. One of the bodyguards cracks his knuckles. It takes everything I have not to laugh in his face. The most lethal people I’ve ever met don’t need to posture and show off. If you cross them, you’ll be dead and never see them coming.
“Not so tough now, huh?” Lattimer boasts. He pushes me in the chest and then frowns when I don’t even move. But he recovers his tough guy attitude quickly. “This is my house. You don’t come in here making threats at me in my own damn house.”
Sasha comes up behind me. “Let’s go, Tank. I don’t want any trouble.”
Lattimer scoffs. “You don’t want any trouble? You’ve been trouble since the day you started here.”
I don’t turn around. Men like Lattimer only understand one thing. Force. I hold his eyes. He needs to understand that I have no problem fucking him up. That knowledge is the only thing that will keep him from screwing with her again.
One of his goons feints at me, trying to see if I’ll jump back. I can’t help it, I react on instinct, punching him in the throat and then following it with a gut shot. He falls back and knocks into his boss. They both crash into the table behind him.
Sasha gasps and covers her mouth with her hands. I groan and run my hands through my hair. She’s really going to hate me now.
“Shit. Sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. Eli said to scare him not to start a fight.”
She turns to me, her brown eyes suddenly bright with excitement. “Are you kidding? That was awesome.”
Lattimer stumbles to his feet, knocking into the guys sitting at the table who are obviously drunk. One of them punches wildly at one of the bodyguards. Before long the panic spreads and we’re in the middle of a crowd of people pushing and shoving. I’ve been in enough bar fights to know that most of the people throwing punches don’t even know what’s going on.
“Ouch! Get your hands off me.”
Emma is caught between a group of guys who are trying to take each other down. She’s jostled back and forth and then stumbles to the side. I push through the crowd, shoving anyone in front of me out of the way. When I reach her, I push her behind me just as one of the guys swings out wildly, his fist connecting with my side.
I block his next punch and then shove him back. His buddies apparently want in on the action now because they’ve focused on me. The chill I always feel before a good fight settles over me. The next one charges me. I dip low and catch him at the waist, flipping him onto his back. My arms and hands move in a violent dance, punching, blocking and knocking heads together. After the first three go down, the rest of their buddies back away slightly.
Emma whimpers behind me. I reach back and pull her against my back, using my body as a shield to block her from the crowd. Fights still rage around us. Sasha appears at my elbow. “Let’s get out of here. This is crazy.”
Lattimer finally gets up, brushing away the offer of help from his other bodyguard. The guy holds his throat while glaring at me. He looks between the three of us and then sneers. “All of you need to get the hell out of my club.”
“What? Paul, that is not fair. Emma has nothing to do with this. And a bunch of drunks fighting is not my fault.” Sasha glares at him.
Emma snatches the tray I’m holding. “I’m still on the clock. I have to work.”
“Okay. Don’t let me hold you. I’m going to stick around until after Sasha’s set. Can you do me a favor?”
“What?” She narrows her eyes.
“If you see the asshole who’s been bothering Sasha, point him out to me.”
Her eyes gleam in the shifting colors of the strobe lights on the stage, reflecting blue, orange, and red. She nods quickly. “I will definitely do that. He always walks the floor around eleven o’clock.”
“Give me your phone.”
She reaches into her pocket and pulls out an ancient flip phone. I take it from her fingers and dial my own number. Then I hang up.
“Text me when you see him.”
She stares at me for a long moment, and then nods. I watch the sway of her hips as she walks away.
For the next hour, I listen as Sasha sings everything from jazz standards to covers of popular songs. She has a soft, sultry voice that throbs in your blood and makes you think of twisted sheets and a different kind of rhythm all together. My phone buzzes and I pull it out.
- - - He’s here. In the red suit.
I look behind me. Emma is standing a few tables away. When she catches my eye, she nods her head to the right. There’s a short man with a tragic comb-over walking on the edge of the dance floor. Two large men follow him. I toss back the last of my beer before I get up. It’s a lot more crowded now so I have to weave in between tables and pockets of people dancing and talking to reach him. He looks up as I approach.
“Are you Lattimer?”
He takes a step forward and his goons crowd in closer, too. I stand to my full height and flex beneath my jacket. It only takes a glance to tell that these two won’t be a problem but Eli asked me to keep it clean. So, I’m hoping to avoid a fight.
“Who wants to know?”
“I’m a friend of Sasha’s. I’m just here checking things out. I look out for her. Make sure no one bothers her.”
“Did she say someone was bothering her?”
“I wanted to see for myself.”
He comes closer and his goons follow. They’re crowding around me. One of the bodyguards cracks his knuckles. It takes everything I have not to laugh in his face. The most lethal people I’ve ever met don’t need to posture and show off. If you cross them, you’ll be dead and never see them coming.
“Not so tough now, huh?” Lattimer boasts. He pushes me in the chest and then frowns when I don’t even move. But he recovers his tough guy attitude quickly. “This is my house. You don’t come in here making threats at me in my own damn house.”
Sasha comes up behind me. “Let’s go, Tank. I don’t want any trouble.”
Lattimer scoffs. “You don’t want any trouble? You’ve been trouble since the day you started here.”
I don’t turn around. Men like Lattimer only understand one thing. Force. I hold his eyes. He needs to understand that I have no problem fucking him up. That knowledge is the only thing that will keep him from screwing with her again.
One of his goons feints at me, trying to see if I’ll jump back. I can’t help it, I react on instinct, punching him in the throat and then following it with a gut shot. He falls back and knocks into his boss. They both crash into the table behind him.
Sasha gasps and covers her mouth with her hands. I groan and run my hands through my hair. She’s really going to hate me now.
“Shit. Sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. Eli said to scare him not to start a fight.”
She turns to me, her brown eyes suddenly bright with excitement. “Are you kidding? That was awesome.”
Lattimer stumbles to his feet, knocking into the guys sitting at the table who are obviously drunk. One of them punches wildly at one of the bodyguards. Before long the panic spreads and we’re in the middle of a crowd of people pushing and shoving. I’ve been in enough bar fights to know that most of the people throwing punches don’t even know what’s going on.
“Ouch! Get your hands off me.”
Emma is caught between a group of guys who are trying to take each other down. She’s jostled back and forth and then stumbles to the side. I push through the crowd, shoving anyone in front of me out of the way. When I reach her, I push her behind me just as one of the guys swings out wildly, his fist connecting with my side.
I block his next punch and then shove him back. His buddies apparently want in on the action now because they’ve focused on me. The chill I always feel before a good fight settles over me. The next one charges me. I dip low and catch him at the waist, flipping him onto his back. My arms and hands move in a violent dance, punching, blocking and knocking heads together. After the first three go down, the rest of their buddies back away slightly.
Emma whimpers behind me. I reach back and pull her against my back, using my body as a shield to block her from the crowd. Fights still rage around us. Sasha appears at my elbow. “Let’s get out of here. This is crazy.”
Lattimer finally gets up, brushing away the offer of help from his other bodyguard. The guy holds his throat while glaring at me. He looks between the three of us and then sneers. “All of you need to get the hell out of my club.”
“What? Paul, that is not fair. Emma has nothing to do with this. And a bunch of drunks fighting is not my fault.” Sasha glares at him.
