Chapter 4
Luckily, Cheryl had her phone and enough money to jump into the first cab she saw and escape ten blocks to Brooklyn Heights. She’d called Dylan, and when he hadn’t picked up, she left a message. By now he must’ve figured she wasn’t showing up. Their plan would have to wait until she could get back to the apartment and retrieve the cash she’d stashed, but right now going back to the scene of the crime and facing Frank Barnett made her knees weak.
Nicky’s lifeless body flashed through her brain. She’d never wanted it to end this way. Where had the time gone? Where had her life gone?
“Whatever happens I need to make some big changes,” she said into the muggy night air. “Just not tonight.”
She stared at the neon Paradise Lounge sign, then at Jonny’s card, as a light mist clung to her skin. Sad that her only refuge was a guy she didn’t really know, but everything about him screamed money and power. All she needed was a place to stay until she could retrieve her money. She’d tried to call him, but his phone went straight to voicemail. He’d said to come see him if she needed anything, although he probably wasn't expecting her outside his club two hours later.
The club beckoned to her. A safe haven, an oasis. She sucked in more damp humidity, smoothed her hand over her clothes, threw back her shoulders and prepared for her biggest con ever. Convincing a guy she hardly knew to help her.
Crossing the street, she ignored the ridiculous line winding around the club and went straight to the entrance. The muscle-bound doorman stepped forward and blocked her way. She beamed at him with more confidence than she felt as his gaze ran over her micro mini and tight tank top. Men, so predictable.
“I know the owner, Jonny Vallone.” His frown told her he’d heard that line a million times. “It’s important I find him.” She flipped out the business card and showed him the hand-written cell number on the back.
He examined the writing, then stepped to the side and spoke into his headset. She shifted her feet as others went in with a wave of a hand. She considered rushing the line, when he turned to her.
He’s up in the offices.” He gave a quick nod like a facial tic. “Take the elevator in the back to the second floor.”
“Thanks.” She moved past him, afraid any eye contact would make him change his mind.
It felt good to be out of the dampness, lost and invisible in the throbbing club scene. Protected by the throng of strangers that flowed and meshed around her to form one out-of-control party. House music pounded from the DJ booth as Victoria Secret look-a-likes danced on raised pedestals in skimpy outfits.
On another night, at another time, she would’ve enjoyed the slight buzz after having one extra drink that made the world seem bright and shiny. Dressed to attract, working the room and scoping out the plethora of designer watches, gold chains, and wallets jutting out of back pockets. She and Nicky would’ve . . .
Her heart kicked up, and her palms began to sweat. Loud conversation collided with pulsing music, while musky cologne and the sweet scents of perfume surrounded her. She felt like a snowball on a tropical island. Out of place and melting fast.
One level up, she stepped off the elevator and surveyed the space. To her left was a smaller, more intimate area which appeared to be for VIP clients, and to her right was a hallway. Two doors on one side were marked as restrooms, with two closed, unmarked doors further apart. She stopped by the first door and knocked. When she didn’t get an answer, she knocked louder. Still no response, so she tried the doorknob. It turned beneath her hand, so she pushed the door open, stepped inside, and froze.
A guy leaned against a massive desk tucking himself in while a topless redhead got off her knees.
She hadn’t expected to interrupt her own personal porn show, and the little squeak she made caused him to stare right at her. Wow. Jonny Vallone, Owner. Paradise Lounge. No wonder his phone went straight to voicemail.
“Shit.” He jerked to a standing position.
“Who the hell is she?” the redhead shrieked, stood, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, then retrieved a cheap satin robe off the floor and dragged it around her.
His opened shirt hung off his shoulders, revealing long, lean, muscular arms, and taut abs exactly as she’d envisioned them at the Oasis. Her gaze traveled to that sexy as hell V where his abs met his hips and fine hairs that traveled south to his . . .
“What the fuck?” His voice deep and rough like he’d spent the night—getting a blow job. His eyes, like hard pieces of black coal, bore into her and demanded answers.
So much for Prince Charming coming to her aid, although the sight of his smooth bronze skin as he righted his shirt and pants rendered her speechless. Was the stubble along his jawline intended or the result of too many nights like this one?
Cheryl cleared her throat as heat traveled to her cheeks. All her conning skills vanished and were replaced with ridiculous mental banter.
Sorry for interrupting your blowjob, but I’m the girl from the Oasis. The one with the loser boyfriend, who by the way will never pay his gambling debt ‘cause he’s dead.
“Do you always barge in without knocking?” he asked.
“Do you always get blowjobs in your office?” she countered.
His lips curved, and she didn’t know if he was amused or thinking of ways to kill her. Either way, after stabbing Nicky and then witnessing his murder, she wasn’t in a position to judge what he did in his private office. Although, he really should consider locking the door.
“Cheryl?”
She spun around, and her mouth fell open for the second time that night.
“Eddie?”
She couldn’t believe it. Eddie Morgan leaning against the doorframe.
“What are you doing here?” they said in unison.
“Jonny and I own this place.”
Eddie must’ve made thousands a night, but his shaggy blond hair, worn, frayed jeans, vintage concert T-shirt, and scuffed engineer boots made him look like he should be straddling a Harley, not owning one of the hottest clubs in Brooklyn. It didn’t matter how much time slipped by, he still made her feel safe.
“You know her?” Jonny asked in disbelief.
“Jonny, this is Cheryl.” Eddie waved his hand between them.
“Yeah, we’ve met,” Jonny said with the uncivilized attitude of a wolf.
An awkward silence followed until she said to Eddie. “Can we talk somewhere in private?”
~ ~ ~
After riding the elevator to the third floor, Cheryl followed Eddie through a foyer and into the living room of a very spacious apartment.
Cheryl spun around. “This space is great.”
Exposed brick walls, hung with modern tapestries, softened the decor of glass, chrome, and black leather. A built-in, granite-topped bar covered one wall, adorned with crystal tumblers and stocked to overflowing with an assortment of liquors and wines of every variety. A flat-screen TV, worthy of a small theater, dominated the other wall. Manhattan chic in Brooklyn.
Eddie motioned to the couch as he sat in the opposite chair. Growing up, her and Eddie were inseparable, but he didn’t approve of Nicky and their friendship deteriorated to random texts and phone calls.
“Jonny and I worked crazy hours in the beginning, and it made more sense to live over the club. Now, we each have a penthouse on the Upper East Side.” Eddie lit up a cigarette. “We use this if we don’t feel like driving to Manhattan.”
“I had no idea you were involved in this club.”
Finally, her nightmare made sense. Fate brought her here. Not for Jonny’s help, but Eddie’s. She’d confide in him just like the old days. Confess her part and tell her biggest secret about Frank Barnett. Eddie could be trusted, and he’d know what to do.
“Jonny and I have been running it for about six months. The guy who backed us wants to keep a low profile.”
“Jonny seemed a little intense.” Especially when those jet-black eyes ran over her.
“He comes on strong. You just have to get to know him.”
She’d pass on that. She had enough drama in her life. “A club in Brooklyn, a penthouse on the Upper East Side. It sounds like you have it all.”
“A long way from that crappy apartment building where we grew up.” He blew out a long stream of smoke and frowned. “Sometimes, though, I lay in bed at night and know something’s gonna fuck it all up.”
She plucked the cigarette from his fingers and dragged deep. “This reminds me of sitting on the fire escape in the old days, trying to catch a breeze while you listened to all my problems.”
“Why don’t you stop stalling and tell me what’s going on?” Eddie rose and in two steps moved next to her on the couch, snatched back the cigarette, and crushed it into the ashtray. “Your last text was from LA. Nicky had some movie connections out there?” His tone belied his doubt. “Knowing him, you’re lucky it wasn’t some skin flick.”
“Funny you should say that.”
“Please tell me you didn’t . . .”
“No.” A flush circled her neck as she remembered her brief encounter with porn.
“I’m glad you came to me, but why now?”
No need to tell him she’d really come to see Jonny. Her gaze flitted around the trendy apartment and an uncomfortable guilt crept over her. She couldn’t lay this burden on him. He had too much to lose. Dragging him into her mess would be the ultimate act of selfishness, and she refused to be the one to fuck it all up.
“It's complicated.” Lying to Eddie would be the supreme test of her conning skills. Bad choices tormented her and coming here tonight topped the list.
“Start at the beginning.”
She drew in a deep breath. “Nicky and I had a fight. A bad fight.” Truth.
“Did he hit you?” Eddie searched her face looking for evidence.
“Just pushed me around, but I’m tired of his schemes and lies.” Another truth.
“I told you way back he was no good. Shoving coke up his nose. Losing big at the track, he owed everybody. It’s a miracle he’s still alive.”
“Yeah, a miracle.” Her voice caught on the last word.
“So, you broke up with him?”
Was that the proper term for leaving your dead boyfriend bleeding out in an alley? Even Hallmark hadn’t come up with a card for that one.
“Are you all right?” Eddie asked.
“Just a little thing I get sometimes.” Her heart thumped in her throat. She fought off what had become an unwelcome reaction whenever Nicky’s image popped up. Each breath like sucking air through a straw. “It’s nothing.” Her mind screamed for control, but her nerves refused to listen. Her insides jolted like an electrical current with a bad switch and no off button.
“Just like that, you’re leaving him.” His crystal blue eyes demanded the truth.
“Everything you said about him was right.” Focus. Concentrate on his voice. Her heart slowed, and her breathing became easier.
Eddie nailed her with a knowing look. “I hope you mean it this time.”
“I do.”
“You can stay here as long as you want.”
“I was thinking about leaving Brooklyn.”
“Going to Manhattan?”
“More like Mexico.”
“Are you sure you’re not in some kind of trouble?”
“Nothing I can’t handle.”
She refused to entangle him in a murder with a known criminal like Frank Barnett. No one would win, and it would jeopardize everything he’d worked for. She’d stay here tonight. Then tomorrow she’d get her money from the apartment and leave Brooklyn behind.