Chapter Four: Hannah

Unfortunately, the staircase that led to my apartment was connected to the strip club by a narrow hallway, and down this hallway was Richie’s office, a storeroom, and the kitchen, as well as a door into the alley.

As I was turning off the lights, the sound of Richie’s laughter boomed in the hallway, a signal that my brother was in a seriously good mood, and it probably involved money. That could only mean that someone had become ensnared in one of his traps. Drugs. Whores. Gambling. It didn’t matter. Richie would get someone hooked, and then they owed him for life.

After midnight was an odd time of night for a meeting though. Curious, or stupid, I decided to take a peek. If he saw me, I’d feign insomnia and ask for a nightcap. He liked to look like a doting brother in front of minions.

Since I was dressed in a teddy that showed way too much skin, I grabbed my flannel bathrobe and wrapped it tightly. The last thing I needed was someone eyeing me and getting any ideas. I wasn’t sure who I might encounter.

My locks disengaged quietly because I kept them well oiled. The stairs didn’t protest under my weight because I was tall and slender, not a big old ox like Butch. I crept down on bare feet, pulling the sash of my robe tighter, suddenly wishing it had a turtleneck because this robe showed too much cleavage.

The music got louder as I descended, the thump and beat of “Pour Some Sugar on Me” vibrating against the risers. I’d always liked that song, but lately I cringed when I heard it.

The flash of strobe lights flared through the partially opened door to the club. I squinted against the annoying flicker, wondering how anyone could enjoy a night out in that environment, but I knew from experience that the louder the music, the more liquor was consumed.

The pulsing lights kept the excitement level up, and the more excited the men got, the more money they threw on the stage. Men were sheep, and when you put a bunch of them in the same room with a naked woman and all the liquor they could drink, they became horny rams looking for a score.

The only other light shown from Richie’s office around the corner, so I followed the dim trail and peeked around the T-junction. Richie was shaking hands with a stranger, and Archie Dee stood by like a good little bootlicker. I could feel the hero worship from here. It wafted off Archie in pitiful waves as he fawned over my brother and gestured between himself and the stranger. I hadn’t gotten a good look at him because he faced away from the door, but he was a big lout. All we needed around here was more brawn and less brains. The place got dumber by the day.

No one just casually meeting Richie would know what a bastard he was. My brother was a good-looking man by almost any standards except mine. I knew the blackness of his heart. We both had our father’s black hair and olive skin, and I’d been blessed with my mother’s cornflower blue eyes, but Richie’s eyes were like no one’s in the family. Black voids. Empty except for the darkness that led to his soul. Staring into his eyes was like staring into a level of hell you’d never known existed, and when he smiled, and you knew him like I did… Well, men actually pissed their pants sometimes.

Tonight, though, that smile was different, big, wide, friendly. He put his arm around Archie Dee and tucked the smaller man right into his side like the good buddies they had always been. If my brother had a soft spot, it wasn’t for his strippers, and it wasn’t for me. It was for Archie. Something had bound them together as kids, but I’d only been a baby then, so I wasn’t in on that secret.

The lighting had changed to flashing red lights, casting an eerie glow over the dark hallway, and then I heard the guitar. I knew what was coming next. Glimmer’s favorite song. I happened to like it too, and for a moment I lost myself to the music and started bouncing and swaying in the hallway until I caught myself. Occupational hazard I guess, or maybe it was just me. Did I like to dance? I sure damn did, but dancing in this place was a bad and dangerous precedent to set. Richie could always change his mind and decide to give me a promotion. Lots of guys had begged him to put me on the stage. The thought made me gag. I didn’t even like them looking at me in the low-cut blouses Richie made me wear. I died a little inside every time I had to put one on.

I crept a little closer so I could hear them over the pulse of Shook Me All Night Long.

“That was a good thing you did, friend,” Richie said. “I won’t soon forget it. Archie here is a friend for life.”

Something was wrong with Archie’s hand because he kept it cupped against his chest, and every time Richie moved, Archie winced and sent a tight smile toward the man in the shadows. He was tall, built like the hero on the cover of the book I kept on my nightstand, with a head of dark hair that curled against the nape of his neck. Below the sleeves of his black T-shirt, his arms were loaded with tats, not scary ones like Butch’s but beautiful artwork that drew the eye.

“He looked like he could use a hand,” the man said. “Bad pun, Archie. Sorry.”

“No problem,” Archie said, cupping his hand closer. Richie jostled him again, and Archie grimaced. My brother was such a dick.

“Archie should stay out of the pool halls,” Richie said. “He sucks balls at it.”

The stranger laughed, and when I heard it, the sound shot straight through my body and my pussy clenched on emptiness. Jesus.

“Aw, Richie, that ain’t true. I’m okay at pool.”

“Not good enough to hustle the big boys,” Richie said.

“I just needed a little extra dough.”

“Bullshit,” Richie muttered. “I’m not good enough to you? Don’t I take care of you?”

Archie scratched at the arm cradled against him and, even in the dim light, seemed to pale. My brother generally kept him supplied with drugs and liquor, but Archie must have gone through his allotment for the month. Richie wasn’t going to be happy about that. He liked to keep Archie malleable but mostly in the here and now. Too many junkies dropped out of reality, and that wouldn’t serve my brother at all.

“You do, Richie,” Archie murmured. “Like I said, I just needed some extra dough, you know, for my kids and shit. That damn bitch has been on my back again.”

Richie sighed. “You should have come to me.” He dropped into his leather chair and twisted it back and forth, his hands loose on the armrests. I’m not sure I’d ever seen my brother so relaxed. It had to serve a purpose, and seeing it made me nervous. “You’re a damn fool, Arch. You could have been killed. Hustling Otto is the fast track to the morgue.”

“I wasn’t hustling…at least not Otto,” Archie said. “There was some rube from Ohio there. Thought he was all that. I was playing him. Otto was taking down some guy on another table, and he was in a great mood up until the fight started.”

Archie ran out of steam and hung his head.

“And?” Richie said.

Archie drew in a deep breath. “And then he noticed the money missing from his table and blamed me.” He scratched his head. “I don’t know who started that fight. Came out of nowhere.”

“That true?” Richie asked, eyeing the stranger.”

“True from what I saw,” the stranger said, nodding. “Some big guy at the next table threw a bottle and all hell broke loose.”

My pulse picked up as I stared at him. I hadn’t even seen his face, but the timbre of that voice did something to my insides. I knew this was the man I wanted.

The men’s voices became more muted, but it sounded as though they were rehashing the fight, and the stranger laughed as he talked about Otto. When I heard his laugh, the sound shot straight through my body and my pussy clenched again. My breath caught at the sensation, and for a split second, I was afraid they’d heard me because the mystery man turned slightly, his gaze darting toward the open door.

Jesus, he was good looking.

“So, Richie, about the job…” Archie scratched at his arm again, clearly needing out of there.

“What do you think of Pussy Whipped?” Richie asked.

The tall man laughed. “Depends on the lady.”

“Good one,” Archie said then murmured helpfully, “But he means the club.”

“I get it, Archie. It’s a great club. First-class ass. Love the classic rock vibe too. Too many clubs play all that new shit. You can’t go wrong with classic rock.”

“So, Richie, Danny here is looking for work. I kind of thought you’d help him out,” Archie said. “After he helped me out and all.”

“And we always make good on promises around here,” my brother said. Truer words had never been spoken, and in my brother’s case, those promises often ended in real pain. Why anyone would willingly take a job in this place was beyond me.

“Do you want to work here, Mr. O’Shea?”

“I could use the cash,” the man said. “Like I told Archie on the way over, I’m looking to start a new life with new opportunities.”

Richie gave him the eye. “Was the old life so bad?”

“Depends on your definition of bad,” the guy shot back.

Richie sat forward in his chair and folded his hands on his desk. His “businessman” persona.

“What the hell. I’ll give you a shot. We always need good bouncers here at the club. Day shift to start. It’s a good training ground. Not much happens during the day. Still, we like a solid presence to show we mean business and our girls are not to be touched without permission. Until after the guy pays, of course, for a little backroom action.” Richie winked. “Butch here can show you the ropes tomorrow. Be here around noon.”

I hadn’t noticed Butch slinking around in the opposite corner. He grunted now, not seeming too happy with the new hire or the added responsibility of training him. Butch liked to sleep in until early afternoon and then spend his shift staring at me and making my life as miserable as possible.

“Sounds great, Mr. Silvestri,” the man said, sticking out his hand. “I appreciate the opportunity.”

“Richie,” he said with that pleasant, almost unrecognizable smile. “Mr. Silvestri is my dead father.” He laughed, and there he was, the brother I knew, the one that made my heart sink every time I saw him.

They shook hands and exchanged a few words, and then as I heard my brother tell Butch he needed to get Archie to the hospital, the stranger turned. I caught a better look of his face, and I froze, my eyes wide, my hands clenched. I simply couldn’t move. I felt as though I’d been caught in a magnetic pull.

His face was as gorgeous as I expected. His dark hair was combed back from his forehead but fell in soft waves against the sides of his face. He had an Italian look to him, but the name O’Shea meant Irish. Black Irish. I’d read about them in the historical novels I devoured. His cheekbones stood out prominently, and dark, penetrating eyes locked on mine.

We stared at one another as he pulled the door closed and began to walk in my direction. Walking wasn’t quite the right word though. This man prowled, like a jungle cat, like a predator walking toward prey. And like a rabbit caught in a snare, I just stood there waiting for the inevitable.

His gaze went from my eyes down my face to stop where my robe gapped just a bit. I felt the heat of that gaze on the swell of my tits, rising and falling as my breath grew ragged. His stare left a trail of fire, and beads of sweat popped out along my skin. I was sure it was from the intensity of that stare, though it might have been from standing in a hot hallway in a flannel bathrobe. He continued to stare, his gaze wandering from my cleavage to my hips and lower to my bare toes, which I curled against the dirty wood floor.

Finally, I managed to shake myself out of my near-catatonic state. I put my finger to my lips and said, “Shhh…”

A smile curled up the corners of his mouth, and then he pulled an invisible zipper across his lips. He made a little gesture with his finger, flicking it between himself and me, and then he cupped his crotch and winked.

I almost giggled but managed to hold it in by pressing my lips together. I shook my head as I smiled. He put his hand over his heart and made a pouty face. As I walked backward toward the staircase, I couldn’t seem to keep my eyes off him. He strolled down the dark hallway as though he owned it. I was turning to go up just as he reached me, and I gasped and jerked when his hand landed across my ass in a quick, snapping slap.

I whirled around and met dark eyes glittering with both danger and desire.

“Couldn’t resist that ass.” He leaned forward and whispered, “Until we meet again, Miss…”

“Silvestri. Hannah Silvestri.”

He shot a glance down the hall, his brows furrowed. “Fuck me. You’re married to Richie?”

“No, no, no,” I whispered furiously. “He’s my brother.”

His smile widened. “Danny O’Shea.” He took my hand off the bannister and lifted it to his lips. The kiss was sweet and gentle but molten hot, sending rivulets of lava boiling through my veins and down my spine. When he lifted his face, he gave me a wink and gestured up the stairs with a toss of his head. “We’ll save this for another day, Miss Hannah. Beat it before you get in trouble and I end up six feet under.”

He continued down the hall as if he wouldn’t care in the world.

When I came back down to earth with a heavy, almost happy sigh, I found Butch staring at me from the T-junction, a dark thundercloud encircling his huge frame. I ran up the stairs as fast as I could.