Chapter 8

Bennett

I couldn't fucking believe I just saw my ex-girlfriend working the bar at the trendy Hollywood sex club. Tori was usually running around in the back of my mind. Of course, that wasn't anything new. But having seen her—she was now front and center, and I had to force myself to remember the gravity of the meeting I was walking into. Apparently, fear of death wasn't enough to push her from my thoughts.

Now, I knew where she was, but that brought up more questions and pricked at the soft, damaged part of my heart where she still lived.

"Starr, damn, snap outta it," Richie said, waving his hand at a seat on one of the couches in his private room. "This is my friend Joe." I reached out to shake his hand.

"Nice to meet you, Joe." He didn't move and kept the damn dark glasses on. I pulled my hand back. "Okay then. My apologies, gentlemen," I said, keeping my tone smooth. "This place is just a feast for the eyes, isn't it?"

I made a show of glancing around, wide-eyed, then returned my eyes to Richie. "But you're right. Let's get to it. I'm certainly not here to waste anyone's time. I'm sure you're eager to get to other things."

"Have a seat, Starr. You want a drink?"

"No, sir. I'm just here to sell my goods."

Richie took a swallow of his drink and set the glass down. My heart was on overdrive—not to mention my head. I wanted to get this meeting done and over with as soon as humanly possible—especially since I had no idea where Tori was, and this Joe guy looked a little sketchy.

"So, you have some inventory that you need moved. And you think I'm the guy to do it? All I wanna know is…why should I take this shit off your hands? It hot?"

"No!" I held up both hands. "Not at all. That's not how I roll." I sighed. "Listen, man, I'm leaving for the Middle East next week. I need to get this warehouse cleaned out. If it's too much for you and your men to handle, just let me know. No hard feelings. I have two other buyers who'd jump on this stuff. Your name?—"

"—who?"

"Buyers?"

"No, your mother." He sneered. Joe snorted. Not a good sign.

"Ha! Mr. Dalton, we don't wanna bring Mom into this, do we?" I chuckled. This guy was something else. One thing I'd learned from watching him day after day was that he had a big ego, and I was learning really fast how to stroke it and make him think he had the upper hand. He wouldn't want any of his competition to get something over on him. And if he had the goods—he'd know they didn't.

"This is all top-of-the-line US-made, military-grade equipment—not that Chinese bullshit. I'm selling you these arms at twenty cents on the dollar of what I paid for them. You can't find this shit anywhere. And if you play your cards right, you could make a fuckin' fortune."

Damn, I sounded like a fucking used car salesman. Which, ironically, was the Dalton family's day job. Used cars, prostitutes, money laundering, racketeering, murder. His whole fucking family was worth close to a billion dollars.

"You're walking on thin ice, Starr," Richie said, his voice gruff.

I smiled. "Better than swimming, no? You in?"

I reached into my pocket and grabbed a key ring with two keys and a business card, holding it in the air so Richie could see it. "I have a rented cargo van parked outside loaded with an assortment of toys." I tossed the keys over to him. "You can't miss it. Says Joey's Rentals right on the side. This is a small sample to show you just how serious I am."

"Go on," Richie grunted.

I handed the card to Richie. "This is the rental company. They have a night drop-off, and after you've gone through and collected everything, I'd appreciate it if you have one of your men drop it off later."

I reached into my jacket's interior pocket and retrieved my cell phone. With a few swipes, I pulled up a video I'd shot earlier. I pushed play and handed it across the table.

"What the fuck is this?"

Richie leaned back, and he and Joe watched the three-minute-long video tour of my warehouse. I cataloged every weapon and showed close-ups of serial numbers and any other details he might find pertinent to his decision. As he watched, my gut churned. This was the moment of truth. He had to take the bait. This had to work. There wasn't another way in.

The video ended, and Richie handed the phone back to me. He looked at Joe, who hadn't said a word yet, and then gave me a look I couldn't read.

"This is very impressive, Mr. Starr, but—" every muscle in my body seized tight, "—I'm not sure we can take on this much inventory right now."

I nodded, keeping my expression neutral. I knew the motherfucker could take on ten times what I was offering. "I understand. Unfortunately, it's all or nothing."

"Why's that?" Richie asked, glaring at me, his thick brows knitted together.

I reached for the keys. "Like I said, I'm leaving next week, and I have to get this warehouse cleaned out ASAP. However, I do have other buyers interested," I lied.

Richie's nostrils flared, and I could sense him about to make an outburst. I pulled back my hand and held it up, steadying him. "It's a new gig. I swear. You are my number one man. Let's find a way to make this work."

The gears turned in Dalton's mind. I sat back, casually crossing an ankle to the opposite knee, and practically watched his thoughts churn. Finally, after a long minute, he looked over to face me. "All right. You got yourself a deal, Starr. But…before we make things official—" he snapped his fingers at his thug standing behind him, who promptly left the room. "You should know that this is more than just business. This is family. You fuck me over, and you've fucked us all. And my family don't take that shit lightly."

I gave a solemn nod. "Understood."

Joe fixed me with a long stare before Richie tossed the keys to him. "Take care of this for me." Joe nodded without saying a word, got up, grabbed the keys, and left. The guy still gave me the creeps. I wasn't sure who this friend was, but I was glad he was gone.

"Is your friend coming back?" I asked Richie, wondering what the hell was going on. I turned at the sound of the door swinging open again. The other thug re-entered, followed by two blondes. One of them I recognized as Richie's companion, Cinnamin, from my first visit to the club. The other was new and carrying a bottle of bourbon and two tumblers on a silver tray. She set the tray on the center table and poured two generous servings before handing them around.

Richie lifted his glass. "To family."

"To family," I echoed.

And just like that—I was in the fuckin' mob.

"You wantme to get you a piece of ass?" Richie offered, grinning over at me as a blonde—a different one from our first meeting—climbed into his lap. After the toast, the business portion of the evening was officially over. Richie's guards and a few friends all entered the room, complete with more booze, half-naked women, and that strange, red-tinted light filled the space again. Richie nodded at the blonde, who was ready to straddle him there on the couch.

"Trish here has a friend who came to play. Or we could see if Elise's hanging around. I seem to remember you liked her."

I shook my head. I still hadn't figured this place out. Where did these girls come from? Technically, it didn't matter to me. But why were so many of them flocking to Richie and his crew? If they weren't being paid, why were they so eager and willing to indulge the greasy mobster? Sure, I wasn't a woman, but what the hell would they see in a guy like him? With his beer gut, stubby fingers, and a permanent cloud of cigar smoke that followed him around, it was hard to see the appeal. "Nah. I can do my own hunting."

Richie roared with laughter, and everyone around him joined in. An obligatory chorus of chuckles. "Suit yourself, Starr."

I bid them goodnight and left the comforts of the private room to return to the main lounge. Hypnotic beats pulsed through the place, and I noticed it was fairly empty tonight. Which struck me as odd since it was a Saturday night.

I wandered through, replaying the details of my brief meeting with Dalton. All the anxiety and build-up drained away, leaving me exhausted. I was more than ready to go back to my hotel room, get out of the damn suit I'd put on, and crack open a beer.

At the thought of having a beer, I glanced over to the bar, and my heart stopped in my chest. There she was. Tori. She was talking to the blonde owner. Piper? Sage? Paige? I recognized her from the night Richie had introduced me to Reed Parkston. She was his wife. Paige. Yes, that was it.

She and Tori laughed together, and something inside of me ached. I used to be the one who would make her laugh. When we first met, she had a thankless job at a casino. I was her escape. I could make her laugh and giggle just as easily as I could make her moan and scream out my name.

It was a long time ago, but even from across the room, I could hear the echo of the sweet sound playing from memory.

I jolted from my thoughts as a hand ran across my back. I whipped around and found Elise—the girl with the killer hips—smiling up at me with a dark, lusty look in her eyes. She looked like a tiger ready to pounce on its prey. "Hey, handsome!"

I offered her a polite smile. "Hey there."

"I knew you'd come back. You want me to see if we can get the same room as before?"

Wow, this girl doesn't play around.

"Nah. I'm actually on the way out."

She pouted as she walked her fingers up my chest. "Why are you leaving so soon? Did one of these other bitches get to you before I had a chance?" She stared up at me, her head cocked as though she could read my thoughts if she tried hard enough. Like I was a puzzle to her. "I was hoping you'd come back and play with me some more."

I captured her fingers and pressed a soft kiss to the back of her hand. "Tonight was all business, baby. I'm sure you understand."

Her lower lip protruded a hair further as she looked up into my eyes. "You sure?"

I chuckled. "Yeah. Next time?"

I doubted there would be a next time. Now that I was in with Richie and the Sanderson crew, I could get in contact with them long enough to plan the delivery of the weapons without needing to return to the club. Which would also leave me time to find out what the fuck Tori was doing here.

"You know it," she said, giggling as she sauntered away, shaking those damn hips with each step. She peeked over her shoulder to make sure I was watching, smirked when she caught me staring and blew me a kiss.

I waved as she rounded the corner and then returned my attention to the bar.

Tori was nowhere in sight.