Chapter 13

Chapter

Thirteen

Cory

Knock. Knock. "Charity, it's me. Cory."

"Come in."

I opened the door to Gangster's Paradise and wheeled in the cart I brought up from The Velvet Room. She lay propped up in bed with two pillows behind her head, and she was watching television. Showered and clothed in pants and a shirt that I'd picked up from the boutique, she looked so much better than she had last night. As long as I ignored the black eye. "I brought you lunch."

"You didn't have to do that," she said shyly.

I picked up the tray off the cart and carried it over, setting it on the bed next to her. "You have to eat, don't you?"

"Someone delivered a huge breakfast this morning. There were pancakes, eggs, bacon, sausage, and toast."

I smiled. "Bosley ordered it for you before he left for work. Tomorrow morning, feel free to order anything you want."

Her eyes dropped to the blanket over her lap, and she picked at it. "I should probably get going. I'm sure your friend didn't mean for me to move in here."

I shrugged, then lifted the silver cloche from off her plate. "I had them make you chicken strips, mashed potatoes, and green beans. I hope that's okay."

Her eyes widened. "That looks delicious. You know I can't pay for this, right?"

I waved her off. "You look like you had one hell of a night. Don't worry about it."

Her good eye filled with tears. "Yeah, it sucked. I've had some rough customers in the past, but no one's ever…" She trailed off.

Gesturing at the end of the bed, I asked, "Is it okay if I sit?"

"Of course."

"Don't feel pressured, but I'm here if you need to talk."

She glanced over at me apprehensively, then went back to picking at the blanket. "I'm not sure what to say. You own this place, right?"

"I do."

"It sure is nice."

I chuckled. "You haven't seen anything but the inside of this room."

"It's still the nicest place I've ever stayed in," she said.

I wondered if that included where she grew up. I didn't want to pry, but I wanted her to know I was there for her. What would Bosley say to her right now? "Charity, do you have somewhere to go when you leave here?"

Her head popped up. "Sure. I share a room with some girls I, uh, work with."

Some girls? A room? I needed to speak with Bosley before I offered her a job, but after witnessing her condition last night and seeing how young she really must be in the light of day, I hated the idea of her going back to whatever situation she'd been in. She needed someone to watch out for her.

"You should've seen him."

"Who?" I asked. Was she going to tell me about her assailant? Did she need to talk about it? I wanted to be here for her, but chances were, if she spilled the story, I'd offered her a job no matter what Bosley said.

"Bosley. He came out of nowhere. He saved me," she finished softly.

"I'm glad." And I was. I was also dying of curiosity about where he'd been and what he'd been doing to come across her attack.

"I've never seen a man murdered before. I tripped over a dead guy once behind the motel, but Bosley snuck up behind him and…" She stopped, sniffling. "And then it was over. Blood gushed out of his neck, and he never said another word. His eyes were open, but like, lifeless."

I held myself still. Bosley hadn't gone into details last night other than to say he'd rescued her before some asshole raped her. I didn't ask for details. He'd been worried about the girl. Hell, we both were, so we'd fussed over her and made sure she had everything she needed before going up to my room.

I hadn't been sure what to expect from him. But he'd been Bosley, acting normally, like I'd come to expect from him. A little intense, a lot attentive. We hadn't had sex, though. He'd taken a shower while I'd made him a BLT since I could handle at least that much in the kitchen, and then we'd gone to sleep. He'd kissed me awake this morning, but he'd already been dressed, so after assuring me that he'd send up food for Charity, he'd left. I still had no idea where he went when he left here, and I was more scared to ask now than ever.

I'd had a killer in my bed. Was I really that surprised? No, I realized I really wasn't. "I'm glad he was there," I finally said in response.

"Me, too. He said I'd be safe with him. He promised. And he didn't lie." She said it with such wonder that it broke my heart. How many people had let this young girl down in her life?

"He's a good man." I stood up. "I have to get back to work, but like I told you last night, if you need anything, pick up the phone and dial zero. One of my guys will come get me."

"Thank you," she said. "I'll get out of your hair today."

I shook my head. "No, you're fine. Let's wait until we speak with Bosley before you make any decisions. Okay?"

"Are you sure?"

Applesauce . She looked so young and insecure. I hoped Bosley didn't intend to make a habit of bringing home people who he'd rescued. I'd end up keeping them all. "I'm positive. Please. Stay."

She smiled slowly, tentatively. "Thank you again."

"It's my pleasure." I made it to the door before saying, "I'll see you later, Charity. I mean it. We want you here."

Outside her room, I slumped back against the wall. That poor girl. Bosley had told me that there was a crew of them. The blondies was what he'd nicknamed them. Were they all as small and young as her? I rubbed a hand over my chest. I hated the thought of what might've happened to her if he hadn't come across her. What had he been doing out there?

As I made my way down the hall, I realized I should really be more bothered by the fact Charity had just told me that she'd witnessed Bosley slitting her attacker's throat. That she'd seen Bosley murder someone. But I couldn't find it in myself to care. Maybe I'd care later after Charity's eye was healed or she'd moved on, but I couldn't think about that right now. I needed to focus on my hotel.

After watching Huey all day yesterday, I'd decided I needed to have a chat with him as soon as he came in today. Harlow had been right; he wasn't holding up his end. As much as I could use a dose of Everest's kindness right now, I ran down the stairs, formulating how exactly I should approach Huey. Before I made it halfway through the lobby, Dante appeared in front of me. "Hey, Cory."

My heart began beating erratically. "Please, please, please don't tell me we had another break-in."

"Oh, no. I'm sorry. Bosley just asked me to check in with you today and make sure you were all right."

"He did?" I asked. I didn't know why I was surprised. That sounded totally like the man I was coming to know.

But he was more than the person who'd slept in my bed the last two nights, wasn't he? He was also the person who made deals with the mob and played judge, jury, and executioner with rapists. What had I gotten myself into? Life had been so easy with Mac, simple and uncomplicated. The only drama in our lives had been what my sister's situation brought into it.

"Cory? Mr. Letterman?"

I rolled my eyes at Dante. "Don't start that Mr. Letterman crap. I told you to call me Cory, and I meant it. The only one who calls me Mr. Letterman is Everest, and I've given up on arguing with him."

Dante barked out a laugh. "Yeah, I can't see anyone winning an argument with him. He's cool for an old guy, though."

"I can't argue with you there. If Bosley checks in with you, tell him everything's fine."

"Okay, I will. That's good to hear."

I went to pass him when a thought occurred to me. Dante had been around observing everything and everyone. Maybe it wasn't okay to ask, but… "Have you noticed anything weird with Huey? I wouldn't ask, but?—"

He held up his hand, cutting me off. "I heard what Harlow said, and I have to tell you, I thought all the same things. That Huey guy doesn't get it, and he's too old to be so oblivious at how much his actions put more work on Harlow. Like, seriously. No work ethic or pride in his job."

Applesauce . That was what I'd been thinking, too. I smiled tightly. "Yeah, thanks, Dante."

Changing course, I headed over to the concierge desk. "Amy, do you have any appointments this afternoon?"

The thirty-something-year-old woman who was working today glanced at her computer screen, then nodded. "I do, but not until three-thirty. Did you need something?"

"Do you think you can help Harlow out over at the main desk? You'd still be able to see this one and run over if someone stops for help."

"Sure. That's no problem." She reached down and grabbed her purse from under the counter.

"Thanks. Can you give me a second before you come over? I'm going to take Huey back into my office."

She scrunched up her nose, then leaned close and whispered, "I hope you're going to chat with him about his work ethic. He leaves poor Harlow on his own all the time."

"How come you didn't say anything?" Seriously, was I the only person who hadn't noticed? What did that say about me as a boss? I knew Mac's death had thrown me for a loop, and the troubles we'd been having hadn't helped my state of mind, but this was ridiculous.

She shrugged. "I planned to a couple months ago, but Harlow asked me not to. He said that Huey had some problems at home, and he wanted to give him a chance. Did he finally say something to you himself?"

I nodded. "He did. I wish he had sooner, though. If Huey's having personal problems, maybe I can help."

Amy gave me a sympathetic smile. "You have the best heart."

"Was that your way of saying I'm gullible?" I asked, already knowing the answer. I was a stooge.

She wavered her hand back and forth. "Maybe a little."

I saw Huey walking in through the front door and checked my watch. He was either late or he'd taken a smoke break half-an-hour after starting his shift. "Okay, Amy. Give me a few minutes, and then…"

She nodded her head. "You got it."

Dodging customers, I strode toward Huey with purpose. I hated confrontations, but I'd gotten better after all these years of running the hotel. I had to admit, it was much easier dealing with an irate customer than having to call an employee out. I rounded the front counter and tapped Huey on the shoulder. "Can I see you in my office?"

"Sure, big cheese." He grinned.

When I only nodded and turned, heading toward my office, he followed on my heels and asked, "Am I in trouble?"

Holding the door open, I pointed toward the chair across from my desk. "No, but I'd like to have a conversation about a few things."

He sat stiffly across from me with his hands folded in his lap. "What's wrong?"

"Huey, do you enjoy working here?"

He shrugged. "Sure. I like working in hotels. Yours is kind of quirky, but…"

The way he said quirky didn't send butterflies flapping around in my stomach like when Bosley said it. In fact, it sounded a little like he thought it was too cheesy. "Okay. You're happy with your shifts? The times work for you?"

He shrugged again. "What's not to like? Harlow's so OCD that all I have to do is worry about a customer here and there."

I didn't like how this was going. First of all, did he always shrug like that? I knew I was easy-going, but I was still his employer. Maybe he was feeling defensive. Maybe I'd come at this from the wrong angle. "How are you doing after that guest chewing you out the other night?"

He shrugged again, slumping back in his seat and getting relaxed. I felt my eye twitch every time his shoulders moved. It was like talking to a sullen teenager. "It was no big deal. He intimidated me at first, but then you came over and handled it. I guess that's why you're the big cheese." He cackled.

It was like the fog clearing on a cloudy day. He was making fun of me. He was being offensive when he called my hotel quirky. I knew this place and me weren't for everyone, but it wasn't like he had to be here. It was his job, for fuck's sake. He could stand to show a little respect.

"Huey, are you positive that you enjoy working here?"

His gaze transitioned, becoming more intense, and he crossed his ankle over his knee. "Why? Who's said something?" Before I could answer, he jumped up to his feet and continued, "I bet it was that guy you've been hanging out with. That customer. Bosley. I can tell he doesn't like me."

"No. What are you talking about?" How had I lost control of this conversation?

He waggled his finger at me. "If it wasn't him, then it was that Dante guy. He's another one. Are you even sure he's from a security company? They look like bad news to me. They're probably the ones breaking into the rooms."

I shook my head. "Cory, that doesn't even make any sense." The break-ins started far before they came along.

He was worked up now, though, pacing back and forth. "Okay, so it wasn't one of them. It couldn't be Harlow. He's too nice a guy."

I had it. This was a side of Huey I'd never seen, and I didn't much care for it. All I wanted to do was have a simple conversation. Granted, it was going to be uncomfortable, but it shouldn't have been whatever the hell this was turning into. "You mean Harlow's a pushover?"

He stopped and chuckled, the tone mean and condescending. "You notice that, too?" He shook his head. "That guy. He'd let me clock in and just sit outside and smoke without saying a word if I wasn't such a nice guy."

He said it like we were two buddies out for drinks after work and not like I was his boss. Did he think I was going to bullshit about Harlow with him? Did he think I didn't mind paying him for nothing as long as someone else got it done? I knew I was an easy-going guy, but I didn't piss away money. This was my livelihood, and I loved The Gin Mill. "Huey, can you sit down, please," I said, hoping that he understood by my tone that I wasn't playing around.

He frowned. "Are you seriously upset with me?"

I spread my hands out in front of me. "Can you blame me? I only wanted to see if there was a way I could help you with your schedule or whatever. Help you out a little. And now you're making fun of one of your coworkers and basically admitting that you don't work or care about your job."

His eyelashes fluttered rapidly before his eyes filled with tears. I was born at night, but it wasn't last night. Plus, I'd seen authentic crying less than twelve hours ago when Bosley brought in a traumatized Charity. I knew when someone was faking, and he wasn't even that good at it.

"You don't understand how hard it's been. The only person who ever cared about me was my grandfather, and I told you he died right before I started this job. I'm so stressed all the time. My girl's always yelling at me that she needs money for diapers and for food and for formula and…"

He mimicked talking with both his hands. "And, and, and. I can't catch a moment of peace at home, and I can't smoke there because she complains about me wasting money on cigarettes. But you probably don't get it since your husband handed you a hotel before he conveniently died in a car accident."

The fuck? I bolted up, slamming my chair back into the wall. "I don't like your implication, Huey. Not that it's any of your business, but Mac and I decided to invest in this hotel years before he was killed in the car accident." I stressed accident. How dare he imply I killed my husband off. Or that I didn't work hard and earn every penny I made.

He rolled his eyes like a teenage boy getting a lecture from his mother for not cleaning his room, and I was over it. Over him. "Yeah, whatever. I used to believe you until all these mafia guys showed up. My grandfather was right. Guys like you get away with everything," he said with a sneer, sticking his hand in his pocket.

I scrubbed my hand back through my hair. "I think you should leave for today, Huey. We can talk again tomorrow after you've had a chance to decide if you really want this job, and I've had a chance to calm down."

I had a feeling that if I told Bosley about this conversation, he'd strongly suggest that I fire the guy. Hopefully, he wouldn't slit his throat. Applesauce. This had turned into a shit-show I wasn't prepared for.

Huey snorted, then moving swiftly toward me, pulled his hand from his pocket. The silver object in his hand gleamed just enough for me to recognize it as a gun before he struck me on the side of my head. His face, a mask of cruel malice, was the last thing I saw before the world went black.