Cold beer ran down the front of my shirt and I grimaced as the men around me laughed at their drunken friend.
“Babe,” the drunken guy slurred, reaching out to touch me. “Let me pat that clean for you, will you.”
I backed up. “I’ll get you another drink,” I bit out and the fucker laughed some more with his sleazy friends.
It was halfway through the night and the fights had become nothing more than background noise. I’d almost grown used to all of the Pit’s violence. Almost.
Whenever I saw one of those body bags being carried out, I still couldn’t help the shiver running down my spine. A good reminder not to pick a fight with someone.
Even if I had to use all my strength not to shove the guys back and stomp on their limp dicks when they thought they could touch me however they liked.
This one, he had purposefully run into me and gawked at my wet t-shirt, eyeing my breasts. Luckily, it wasn’t a white t-shirt.
I could hear another fight beginning down below and the crowd roared. Each fight, each punch, fueled them and in turn, I could feel the excitement build to a roaring level.
Just then, Beau Knight came into view. Blood and sweat dripped down the side of his face, a tremor in his temple, pulsing as he sat down, watching me.
Two Aphrodites came to his side and his tattooed fingers pulled out a cigarette. I could almost taste the belladonna on my tongue, remembering his breath on my face. One of the girls leaned forward, flicking a lighter just below his cigarette. His eyes—his dark, gloomy eyes—never left mine as he slightly lowered the drag into the flickering flame. He relaxed back, bringing the cigarette to his mouth.
One of the girls climbed onto his lap and I watched his free hand wrap around her exposed hipbone. A burning rage built in my chest—a flash of pain.
Someone bumped my shoulder and I tore my eyes away from the sight.
I didn’t care, I didn’t care if he found energy elsewhere.
As I got to the counter, Jackson gave me a look and passed me a dishtowel. I smiled meekly, thankful for his kind gesture.
I wiped at my collarbone and chest and looked back to the crowded room. Hot and loud and buzzing with energy. I observed a group of men Fiona had warned me about before my first shift here. Until now, I hadn’t had the time to cast more than a quick glance in their direction.
They were lounging in a booth in a corner of the Pit, being as loud as they possibly could. They all looked so smug, like they owned the damn dirt sullying the floor under their heavy leather boots. Now that I thought about it, they probably did. A few Aphrodites sat at their table, giggling and smoking belladonna. Fiona hadn’t said much other than to stay away from them as much as possible.
The hairs on the back of my neck rose. One of the men was watching me. I didn’t look away and the smile on his face widened, lifting his glass and tipping his chin at me.
“They’re trouble,” Jackson said, matter of fact, the scowl not leaving his face. “They fuck, they fight. I don’t know what the fuck they do all day when they’re not here, but after years of working here, I know what sketchy shit smells like and those guys reek of it.”
I hummed in response, trying to sound indifferent. I couldn’t help but note his words sounded a lot like Fiona’s.
“Is it just me and you tonight?” I asked Jackson.
Jackson shook his head and gave me a long look. A look that made my stomach twist. It was halfway through our shift and no one else had shown up. I had met another girl yesterday named Diana, but she was nowhere to be found. Another person gone.
Like Dolores.
“Did Diana quit?” I asked him, frowning.
Jackson laughed darkly, the wrinkles around his eyes tightening. “Aphrodites never resign, Lex. They can’t.” A shiver ran down my spine and I suddenly felt cold despite the Pit’s near unbearable temperature.
“But she worked behind the bar,” I said, tilting my head in confusion.
Jackson’s mouth twitched into a thin line of disdain. “Danny views all women in the Pit as Aphrodites.” He paused, and the words sunk in painfully fast. “The longer you stay around here—the more people go missing. Never know who’ll be next,” he shrugged. “Could be you.” A few guys stumbled to the counter beside me and Jackson took their orders.
Could be you.
Could be you.
Could be you.
It had already been me, I thought as the nightmares flirted with my memory again, wrapping around my pumping heart.
My palms grew wet.
The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. Jackson still watched me and a question danced on the tip of my tongue. “Did you ever meet a woman named Dolores?”
Jackson’s brows wrinkled. “Why?”
“She was a friend of mine,” I said. “She came here one night but I never saw her again.”
Jackson scanned the bar quickly and then leaned down, moving closer to me, my breath hitched. “Don’t ask anyone about any of this. Do you hear me, Lex?”
I frowned at him. “But why?”
“What happens in the Pit, stays in the Pit. If any of Danny’s entourage hear you asking around about a missing person…” He paused, his dark eyes glimmering with intensity that made me shiver. “You’ll leave in one of those body bags, am I clear?” His voice was hard, but the intent was clear; a warning, not a threat.
“My friend’s missing, Jackson. I’m not going to sit around and do nothing about it,” I fought, shaking my head.
He went to open his mouth, but froze, staring at someone behind me.
I glanced over my shoulder to see Danny standing behind me. Wearing his tailored custom suit of navy, a satin square handkerchief in the breast pocket, he attempted and failed to ooze professionalism and class.
But I tasted his impatience, his anger as he stared down at me.
My heart beat into my throat.
He had heard our conversation.
“We need to speak, little Lex,” Danny said, his hands stuffed into his pocket. “Alone.”