I glance at James, my senses on high alert. “I thought everyone else was gone.”
“Mark was the last to leave,” James replies. “The place should be empty.”
My gut tightens. “Go check it out.”
James nods and quietly slips out of the office, leaving me alone with Erin. The moment the door shuts behind him, I reach for her, pulling her close. She doesn’t resist, letting me hold her. I need it as much as she does.
I kiss her, not soft or fleeting but deeply. Her lips part beneath mine, her taste washing over me. I pull back but keep her close, my hands resting on her waist.
“We’re going to be alright. We’ll get through tonight. We’ll stay safe and tomorrow we’ll call the FBI.”
She smiles faintly, worry etched across her face. “Safe tonight… in bed too?”
I let out a low laugh, not expecting a comment like that. I brush her hair back from her face. “Safe everywhere. Alarms set, doors locked. Fort Knox has nothing on us. And it’s going to stay that way until Misha’s taken care of.”
A grunt in the distance snaps both of us to attention. My body tenses, instincts kicking in as I turn toward the door, opening it just enough to see out into the hallway.
“James?” I call.
Nothing.
My chest tightens as I guide Erin behind the desk, keeping her close.
“Stay with me,” I command.
I crouch, unlocking the bottom drawer of the desk and pulling out my Glock 17. My movements are quick and precise, the weight of the gun familiar in my hand as I slide the magazine in and chamber a round.
Erin watches me with wide eyes. I tuck the Glock into the back of my waistband and move toward the door, Erin tightly gripping my arm.
“Stay close,” I whisper.
Footsteps echo in the hallway, slow and heavy. Every muscle in my body coils tight, ready for whatever—or whoever—is about to come through that door.
The footsteps grow louder, closer. Erin’s hand tightens on my arm. I slip the gun out of my waistband, keeping it pointed at the floor.
The door creaks open, and a figure steps into the frame. Relief floods me as I recognize the familiar face.
It’s Mark. He stops short, his expression shifting to confusion as he takes in the scene.
“Whoa, what’s going on in here?” he asks, glancing at the gun in my hand. “What’s with the firepower? I was thinking of asking for a raise, but uh, maybe another night.”
I exhale slowly, lowering the gun but keeping it at my side. “Jesus, Mark. Thought everyone had gone home.”
Mark shrugs, flashing an easy grin. “Forgot my wallet,” he says, patting his pocket for emphasis. “Heard something on my way back and figured I’d check in. Didn’t mean to scare you.”
I study him for a moment, my gaze narrowing. He looks relaxed and casual. Too casual. His eyes flick to Erin, who says nothing. I can feel her body tense up.
“All good,” I say. “Just being careful. There’s cash back here and robberies aren’t exactly a rare occurrence in the city.”
Erin exhales beside me, her tension easing slightly. “You scared the hell out of us,” she says.
Mark raises his hands in mock surrender, his grin widening. “Didn’t mean to. Next time, I’ll knock louder.” He takes a step back toward the door. “Anyway, I’ll grab my wallet and head out. See you tomorrow?”
“Yeah, sure” I reply. “See you tomorrow.”
One more quick wave and he’s gone. I stick my head out into the hallway and watch him walk toward the front of the house. Satisfied, I shut the door again and let out a sigh.
A few minutes later I hear the back door open and close. Quiet fills the space but not my mind. I set the gun on the desk, my hand brushing Erin’s arm as I glance at her.
“We’re okay,” I say softly. “But I’m going to have a conversation with Mark tomorrow about coming in the back door and sneaking around like that.”
Then, something occurs to me: James. Where the hell is he?
“I’m going to look for James,” I say. “Stay here.”
“Okay.”
Gun in hand, I make my way through the dim halls toward the front of the club. No sign of James anywhere. It’s unlike him to just vanish like that.
I hear a noise behind me. I pause, gripping my Glock with both hands as I turn, gun raised.
“Hey! Easy!” It’s Erin, her hands raised.
I sigh, lowering the gun. “Didn’t I tell you to stay in the office? It’s safer in there.”
“Come on, you should know better than to think I’d let you wander around out here alone.”
“And what were you planning on doing to help? Run behind the bar and whip bottles of Jack at any intruders?”
She shrugs. “I’m quick on my feet. And I’m not going to sit around and wait.”
No sense in arguing with her, that much I’ve learned.
“Come on. Stay close. I want to check out the front of the house and see where the hell James got off to.”
Together we walk toward the bar. The main floor of the club is on the other side. At first, all seems quiet. Too quiet.
Mark stands near the entrance but something about him is off. Gone is the easy, affable grin he usually wears. His face is hard, his eyes cold, and the shift sends a jolt of unease through me.
“Mark? I thought you left.”
He shrugs. “Something else I forgot. Man, I need a little list or something to check off before I head out of here.”
Erin steps close to me, sensing something’s wrong.
“Where’s James?” I ask.
Mark shrugs again, his expression unreadable. “Don’t know,” he says simply.
Just then, two large men emerge from the shadows behind him, their presence sucking the air out of the room. Both are built like linebackers, their sharp eyes scanning as though sizing up the space—and us. The larger of the two, bald with a jagged scar running along his jawline, steps forward.
My hand tightens on the Glock as I lift it, aiming directly at the larger man. “Get the hell out of my club.”
Before I can move, the second man raises his weapon—a sleek black pistol—and trains it on Erin. “Put it down,” he says, his voice calm and cold. “I’m a crack shot at fifty yards. Fifty feet? She won’t feel a thing.”
My blood turns to ice as I glance at Erin, her face pale but her expression hard. I lower my gun slowly.
“Now,” Mark says. “Set it on the bar.”
I clench my jaw hard as I comply. The larger man steps forward, taking my weapon and tucking it into his belt.
I turn my attention back to Mark. “You traitorous son of a bitch,” I spit. “I trusted you.”
Mark just shrugs, his demeanor maddeningly casual. “My loyalty’s always been with the man who pays me the most,” he says, his tone almost apologetic. His gaze shifts to Erin, softening slightly. “Sorry, Erin. Really.”
“Fuck you, Mark.”
He raises his hands in mock surrender, stepping back with a smirk. “Fair enough. Anyway, as you guys can see, you’re not in a good spot. Misha’s five steps ahead of you, as always. So I guess all I can say is good luck.”
He makes his way around us, stepping into the back halls and disappearing.
The larger man gestures with a jerk of his head. “Let’s go. Both of you.”
I glance at Erin, her hand trembling slightly as it brushes against mine. I lower my voice to a whisper, leaning in close. “Stay behind me.” She nods, her eyes locking onto mine. I take her hand, gripping it tightly. Turning back to the men, I utter, “After you.”
The larger man chuckles, a low, guttural sound. “Smart.”
The other gestures toward the bar. “Go behind it. And put your hands on the counter.”
Erin flicks her eyes to me and I nod. Together, we make our way around the bar.
“Try anything cute,” one of the men says, “and I’ll kill her right in front of you.”
My mind races, cataloging every detail—the placement of the smaller man’s gun in his belt, the way the larger man holds his weapon, the distance to the nearest exit. I’m calculating, planning, waiting for the moment when the odds tilt in our favor.
But for now, we walk, step by step, around the bar. Once there, we place our hands on the smooth wood.
I glance at Erin, her chin lifted in defiance. Whatever happens next, I know one thing for certain: I’ll do whatever it takes to protect her.
The front doors of the club open. Footsteps sound, two more hulking guards flanking a shadowy figure.
My blood runs cold when I realize who’s with them.
“Hey,” Misha says, opening his arms. “What the hell does a guy gotta do to get a drink around here?”
