4

Will

The following day, I sat at the bar recounting my misfortune to Tina as she prepared two glasses of beer for a couple of customers at the back. I hadn't revealed Christina's name or situation. Only that I had a terrible day yesterday.

"And then she twisted her hand, forcing me to talk when I could barely breathe."

Tina chuckled while wiping the bottoms of the drinks. "Serves you right," she said.

"What?" I asked, but couldn't keep my indignation, not when that was the first smile I'd seen in weeks.

"She was quite clear with her request. You didn't listen until she forced you to listen."

I picked up my drink and tossed it back. "Well, I heard her loud and clear after that."

"Exactly." She snapped the towel and nearly hit my drink. She was still smiling when she pulled it back and wiped the tray with it.

She sighed. "I wish I could do something like that, you know. Grab a man by the balls and squeeze until he gives me what I want. I admire that."

Huh. When she put it that way, I begrudgingly admired it, too. I would've appreciated it more if it were someone else's balls.

I glanced at the empty glass and wondered for the first time if Christina wasn't all the different from me and my brothers. We didn't hesitate to do what was necessary to get the job done, even if it meant twisting someone's arm or leg in the process. I'd never twisted anyone's balls, though. At least not yet, but I'd learned how effective of a tactic it was.

Looking up at Tina, I smiled conspiratorially. "You could twist his balls if you wanted."

Her lips curled up cynically, and she shook her head. "I don't think so."

My gaze followed hers to the back of the room where her boyfriend sat with some friends. "Excuse me," she said and walked away with the tray in her hand. She set the drinks down at a table next to his and he took her proximity as an invitation to grab her ass. She jumped and swatted his hand away.

All three men at his table laughed and I saw red. I pushed my chair back, but before I could take a step toward them, Tina walked back toward the bar. Her eyes screamed at me to sit down. I hesitated for a second, but complied.

"This is not your place to step in. If he thinks something is going on between us, I'll be the one he'll be angry with."

I stared at the asshole, who was still laughing with his deadbeat friends.

Disgusting.

He stopped laughing abruptly and checked his phone. His good humor gone, he stared at the message. He spoke a few words to his friends and then walked toward the bar.

"I've got to go to work," he said to Tina on his way out.

"When will you be home?" she called.

"When I'm home." He threw open the door and left without so much as a goodbye to his girlfriend.

"I thought he was in between jobs. Did he find something?"

Tina shrugged and shook her head. "I have no idea. He calls it work, but he leaves whenever he gets a message and that can be at any hour of the day."

My leg bounced beneath the bar, but I pushed down my excitement. A small sense of hope grew inside me that perhaps this could be it. I hadn't found any warrants or parole violations that would lock up the loser. But, if he were getting himself into selling drugs or some other nefarious dealings, then maybe I could put him away for a while.

I left a hundred-dollar bill on the bar, although my drink was only fifteen dollars. Tina stopped arguing about it after I told her it was useless.

"I'll see you later," I said, and she waved goodbye.

Jogging up the steps to the sidewalk, I looked both ways for the guy. He hadn't gotten into a vehicle, but instead, walked quickly southbound toward the inner city.

I followed discreetly, pretending to check my phone every once in a while, but it was pointless. The guy had no instincts. He simply walked to his destination without wondering if anyone was following him. Perhaps it was just a simple work call. Maybe he worked as a delivery guy or errand boy for a legitimate business. But alarm bells went off when he received that message and I wouldn't dismiss this until I saw it through.

A few blocks south, he finally turned and opened the door. Waiting several minutes before I followed him in, I crossed the street to subtly check out the name of the establishment, rather than look up at the sign. Someone who intended to enter a place, rather than follow someone in, knew where they were going and wouldn't check the name first.

Once I crossed the street, I realized how needless this tactic was. I would've known as soon as I opened the door that this place was a strip club.

Christina

I double-checked the address on my phone and looked up at the vibrant sign above my head.

Yup. This is the place.

With a sigh, I opened the front doors.

Early 2000 R&B music blared from the speakers and the dark lighting inside made it difficult to see where I was going. I should have asked Lucky for directions inside the place, not just how to get there.

I'd gone back to Simon's house earlier. It being a Sunday, I expected him to be home, but no one had answered the door.

I tried peeking through the windows of his home. A robotic voice had told me I was being recorded, but that didn't deter me. However, I couldn't see anything because the blinds were drawn throughout the house.

Lucky saw me lurking and asked what I wanted with Simon. I told him I needed to speak to him and he told me to stay as far from that man as possible. I appreciated the warning, even though I ignored it.

Unfortunately, I resorted to lying to Lucky, saying I needed to serve Simon some legal papers. This news cheered him up and he suggested two locations where I would find Simon or his brother.

This was the first place.

My vision adjusted after a few minutes in the dark. There weren't any bouncers at the door as I'd expected, but at this hour, six o'clock, it was probably too early for a crowd. However, there were two men stationed next to the stage, whose massive arms looked like they could inflict some serious damage, if necessary.

There were probably ten men scattered throughout the room, and I scrutinized all of their faces. None of them were Simon or his brother Gerry.

Unrelenting, I sat down at one of the tables, prepared to wait and see if either of those assholes would show up.

A few minutes later, a server came by. "Can I get you anything?"

"I'll have a gin and tonic. Thanks."

"No problem."

She left, and I watched the entertainment on stage. A woman was half-dressed, wearing only a pair of panties and some pasties over her nipples. Her breasts were full and round and I wondered if they were soft or a bit harder than usual.

Her hips swayed, and she commanded attention from everyone in the room, including me.

"Hey, babe. Do you like what you see?"

I rolled my eyes. Annoyed, I turned at the interruption and laid eyes on a middle-aged man with a potbelly and stubby legs.

"Not at all," I said and deliberately ran my eyes over his body.

His smile faded, and he snarled something vulgar at me. I'd heard it all before. Those names had no power over me.

"That's right, and this bitch would appreciate it if you would just fuck right off."

Even in the dark, I noticed his face turn a deep shade of purple. This bastard wouldn't take the insult lightly. At least, I'd been counting on that.

As predicted, he reached for me, but I was faster. I pulled his thumb back, and he yelped and dropped to his knees.

From the corner of my eye, I saw one of the security guards walk toward us.

"Is there a problem here, miss?"

I didn't take my eyes or my hands off of the loser withering on the floor. "Do we have a problem?" I asked.

He shook his head and tried to pull his arm back, but he was in too much pain to overpower me.

Finally, I let go, and he snapped his arm back and cradled his thumb inside the palm of his hand.

"Bitch," he hissed as he staggered to his feet, but turned and walked away.

"If he bothers you again, miss, just holler."

I smiled, but waved him off. "He won't be bothering me again."

As soon as the security guard left, my server returned with my drink. "Thank you," I said and sipped it slowly through the tiny white straw.

"You're welcome." She turned to walk away, but changed her mind and stepped back closer. "I've got a move that will knock them out with a pull on the ear. I can show you later if you'd like."

I lifted my gaze, taking the first real look at my server. She was around my age, mid-to-late twenties, but had red hair and green eyes. Her smile was sweet despite having to deal with assholes all day. I envied that.

"Sure. That'd be great."

"I get off at midnight."

I nodded. "I'll see you then."

Settling into my seat, I watched the rest of the show. But two drinks and two hours later, Simon still hadn't shown up.

I pushed away from the table and walked toward the exit. When I'd only reached halfway down the room, the tiny hairs at the back of my neck stood up. I looked around for someone hovering too closely, but there was no one there.

But then, I saw him. My stomach clenched and a feeling I couldn't describe passed through me.

His six-foot-four frame stalked slowly as he entered the room. He wore black pants and a gray sweater that clung to every curve of his chest.

He stared after some man who'd gone directly to one of the bouncers. He spoke quickly, and they let him through.

Will turned to look away, but his attention was drawn back. A woman walked onto the stage. This one wore nothing at all, but she carried a whip.

I intended to walk by and ignore him. I thought I would make it by stiffening my neck to avoid his eyes as I walked past him. But he saw me, and he placed his hand on my shoulder. I couldn't ignore him now, but I would make it short.

"Christina?"

"Hi, Will."

He looked around, as though he was just now realizing where he stood. "What are you doing here?"

"Enjoying the show." I crossed my arms. "How about you?"

His mouth opened and closed, seemingly befuddled by my response, or perhaps by my nearness. For a second, I was surprised he didn't put his hand over his balls reflectively. But he quickly recovered and said, "Um, same. Yeah. Same."

I wasn't sure why his reply bothered me. What did I expect? Just because the man wanted to be a hero didn't make him one. He was just like the rest.

I pushed past him and felt his eyes on my back the entire time. I was tempted to look over my shoulder and see if the heat I'd felt back in my office remained in his eyes.

But I forced myself to push open the front doors and forget all about Will Nash.

***

The smell of stale beer hit me as I opened the door, even before I stepped one foot inside the establishment. Fifteen minutes after seeing Will, I walked into the second location Lucky had suggested I would find Simon. Surprisingly, this place was scuzzier than the first one. My sneakers stuck to the wooden floor and country music blasted from a jukebox at the back. I didn't think there were many country pool halls in New York City, but I happened to find myself in one of them.

Several men wearing leather vests with a skull and crossbones insignia on the back sat at the bar, holding their beers. Their white beards gave away their age before their wrinkled tattoos did. I couldn't imagine Simon in a place like this, but I assumed he was here for business rather than social reasons.

My fists curled at my side when I spotted him at a back table talking to three other guys. They were huddled close together, leaning over a black bag.

Basic human survival instincts shouted in my head to wait and not approach the table. The odds of Simon giving me information about my sister would be better if I spoke to him privately. But I also knew that he'd been avoiding me for days and I worried that if I waited, he would leave through a backdoor before I could reach him.

No. I'd confront him now.

I marched toward the back, ignoring the stares of the other patrons in the bar. Although I was wearing black tights and a white hoodie, I knew the name brand plastered across my chest and my high tops screamed money. I didn't care. I worked hard for what I bought.

"Simon," I said when I reached the table. Four heads shot up, and three brows furrowed. Simon, on the other hand, looked furious.

"What are you doing here?" he seethed.

"Where's my sister?"

He looked at the men around him, but they still had their eyes on me.

"You saw her. She's fine. Now go away."

"She's not answering her phone, and no one has answered the door when I've come by. I want to talk to her now."

"No," he said, and then to the men. "Just forget her. She's some crazy bitch."

I'd been called a bitch many times. It wasn't the word itself that infuriated me. It was his dismissive tone.

"That's right. And this bitch will make your life miserable until I speak to my sister away from your prying eyes and ears."

"What's going on, Simon? Who is this girl?"

"She's nobody."

"The name is Christina Polito and I'm an attorney."

"You got beef with a lawyer, man? What the fuck? My lawyer was the reason I went to prison last time."

Simon stood from the table and grabbed my arm. I let him drag me away from the men because I'd finally gotten his attention. Maybe now he'd listen.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"I told you. I need to speak to my sister privately."

"That's not going to happen."

"Why not?"

"Because your sister now belongs to me. And I say who she speaks with, and you're not on the list."

"You can't do that."

"I can. And I will. Now get the fuck out of my way."

I watched helplessly as Simon sat back down at the table.

How the hell would I get through to this guy? I could send the police there, but after speaking to my sister, I wasn't sure if they would take this seriously.

But I had to try. I would have to use any connection I had and find someone who would help me.

However, I wasn't prepared to leave the pool hall with Simon thinking he had won.

I walked over to one of the men at the bar.

"Hey," I said, nodding toward Simon at the back. "Do you know which one is his car?"

"Simon?"

"Yeah."

"Oh, he didn't drive here. He rode in on his bike."

I turned toward the parking lot and saw a row of shiny silver and black metal bikes lined up at the front.

"Which one is his?" I asked.

He threw some cashews in his mouth as he considered whether to tell me or not. I waited, hoping he'd made the right decision.

"The first one," he said with a mouthful of chewed nuts.

"Thanks."

I walked toward the front door, my arms swinging by my side. I pushed the door open and with my hands on my hips, I surveyed his bike.

It was a fair distance away from the other bikes. If I kicked it in the opposite direction, I should avoid hitting the other ones. I watched Sons of Anarchy. I knew how protective riders were about their bikes.

Lifting my knee to my chest, I slammed my foot down against Simon's front tire.

The bike teetered but didn't fall. I kicked it again, harder this time, and the bike crashed down to the ground. Unfortunately, the back tire slid sideways and hit the back tire of the bike three feet away.

I rushed to hold up that bike, but it was too late. It crashed into the bike beside it, and then that one crashed into the next bike.

It was like a domino effect, and I was helpless to stop it. I just stood there and watched as motorcycle after motorcycle crashed into the next. It was horrifying and fascinating at the same time.

But when the front door of the pool hall flew open and ten angry bikers came out, there was nothing fascinating about it.

It was one of the scariest things I'd ever seen.

Ten red and angry faces turned to me, and I gulped.

"Oh, shit."