Slay (Storm MC #4) Read online

  The defeat I saw on her face killed me. It tore another fucking piece of my heart out. There should have been hope. After all this fucking time, she should be seeing the light and feeling real hope, but all he’d left her with was sadness and despair. “Yes,” she agreed softly.

  “Thank Christ,” I said before hugging her again.

  Relief flooded me, but the dark feelings of hatred and revenge stuck close like they always did.

  Soon.

  He’d be dealt with soon, and then, maybe she and I could finally find a way to move out of the darkness.

  Chapter Three

  Layla

  I stood in the alleyway behind my bar and stared up at the inky sky. Full moon tonight. Fuck, I hoped the bar wasn’t about to be invaded by the crazies. Diverting my gaze down the alleyway, I took in the two drunks passed out, completely oblivious to the thief raiding their pockets.

  “Hey!” I yelled out, stalking towards him.

  His head snapped up, hard eyes meeting mine. “Fuck off, cunt,” he snarled, his voice full of venom.

  Yeah, like fucking hell, asshole.

  I ignored his directive, and when I got to where he now stood staring at me, I punched him hard in the face. The element of surprise never did me wrong. He staggered back, holding his face, surprised as fuck.

  “What the fuck, bitch?”

  “That was for trying to steal.”

  He advanced towards me, hatred blazing from his eyes. His intent was clear, and as his arm came up to punch me, I kicked my leg out so my foot connected with his balls. At the same time, I ducked to avoid his punch and spun out to the side, away from him. The agony my kick induced, coupled with the momentum he had going with his punch, caused him to fall forward. He landed on his hands and knees, at which point I kicked him hard in the gut.

  “Fuck!” He collapsed into a ball, arms around his stomach, his breathing choppy.

  “That was for calling me a cunt.”

  I walked to the drunks and prodded one of them with my boot. His eye cracked open and he gave me a what-the-hell look.

  “Get up,” I snapped. “This asshole just tried to steal from you. It’s time to go home.”

  Without waiting for a response, I turned back to the thief. Squatting, I said, “You think that hurt? If I see you here again, you’ll know what pain is. Your balls got off lightly this time.”

  He grunted something unintelligible at me before attempting to stand.

  I straightened and watched as he stood. My body tensed, waiting to see if he would try anything.

  He glared at me. “Fucking bitch,” he grumbled, still clutching his stomach.

  I raised my eyebrows. “Really, dude? You want to go there with me again?”

  He muttered more shit I couldn’t understand before stumbling out of the alleyway. When he rounded the corner, and I could no longer see him, I allowed myself to relax.

  Why did the world have to be full of scum like that?

  I looked at the drunks. The one I’d woken up had passed out again. I gave him another prod. “Time to go home,” I ordered. Fat lot of good it did because he didn’t stir this time. Fuck it, his grave to dig, not mine to try and spare.

  I headed back inside. I had better things to do than worry about people who didn’t worry about themselves.

  ***

  I checked the time on my watch: eleven pm. The bar was busy for a Thursday night. Thank god, because our bills were coming out of our ass at the moment. It didn’t help that my business partner had disappeared two days ago. Also didn’t fucking help he’d been stealing from the business for god knows how long. It had taken great strength not to do serious damage to his body when I’d discovered that shit. One almighty screaming match later, and it looked like he’d skipped town. God knew how I’d pay the bills now.

  “Boss!”

  I spun around to find Jess staring expectantly at me. “What?” I asked as I wiped my hands on my jeans. The wetness of the alcohol came off but the stickiness remained. Didn’t bother me, though. I was used to working with sticky hands after nearly ten years of bar work.

  She jerked her head in the direction of the jukebox in the corner. “Can you deal with that asshole?”

  I narrowed my eyes on the guy she referred to. Seemed he had taken issue with the jukebox. When he kicked it, I turned back to Jess. “With pleasure,” I replied, already heading towards him.

  “Got a problem with my jukebox, buddy?” I asked as I approached him. He had that stoned look to him. Probably was stoned. Fucking junkies frequented the bar, but, unfortunately, it couldn’t be helped: the bar was in The Valley and we bred them like mice here.

  Glassy eyes focused on me. He scowled before answering. “It took my fucking money.”

  “No need to kick it.”

  “No need to give me shit,” he spat back.

  “How about you leave before this gets out of hand?” Fuck, two assholes in the space of an hour. Shit luck tonight.

  He moved towards me, his bulky frame hunching up in a threatening manner. “How about you give me my fucking money back?”

  I assessed the situation. He looked to have some strength on him which could be a problem with my tiny frame. There were other ways around this, though. My plan came together in my mind, however, as I went to execute it, a voice questioned from behind, “What’s the problem, asshole?”

  Turning my head, I found the guy I served scotch to most nights. He was one of the best-looking men I’d ever met. Also the guy I’d vote most likely to scare the fuck out of me in a dark alley. He’d been coming here for just over a year, yet we’d hardly ever spoken. He kept to himself, and it was clear to everyone he wanted to be left alone. Tonight, the scary vibes rolled off him.

  “We’re all good, thanks,” I replied. I’d been handling my own shit for nine years now. I didn’t need his help.

  The thud of his heavy boot as he stepped closer to me rang out a warning. Jerking his chin to the jukebox dude, he asked, “You about to leave?”

  Pretty sure it wasn’t a question.

  The guy squared his shoulders. I could swear, though, I saw fear flash in his eyes.

  Oh dear god, he wanted to take on Scary Dude. As if, asshole.

  A frightening energy filled the space and I knew I needed to end this before it got out of hand. As the scary dude came closer, I raised my hand to his chest to halt him. I hit rock-hard muscle. Fuck me, built much? My core clenched. Shit, now wasn’t the time to be thinking about how much I wanted to see what his shirt hid.

  He frowned at my hand on his chest. Only for a moment and then his glare returned to the asshole.

  “Not till I get my money,” jukebox dude answered him.

  The scary dude pushed forward, easily ignoring my hand on his chest. He stepped around me, moved into the other guy’s space and spoke quietly to him. I couldn’t hear what he said. It must have been something significant, though, because the asshole’s eyes widened, he nodded and with one last dirty look at me, he took off.

  Scary Dude turned back to me. Our bodies almost touched, and the energy surrounding us turned from frightening to something else. A shiver spread down my spine and my heart rate sped up. Surely he wouldn’t mind if I placed my hand on his chest again. I just needed one more touch.

  “You okay?” he asked, interrupting my sexy thoughts.

  I wished he would take a step away from me so I could get my brain going again. “Yeah, there’s always one of them to deal with most nights.”

  He nodded and finally took that step back, giving me space to move and think. “I doubt he’ll be back. Ever.”

  I didn’t even want to know where his certainty came from. “Thanks.”

  We stood silently watching each other. His face hid his emotions well; I couldn’t make out a damn thing. After a few moments in which we both sized each other up, he murmured, “Good.”

  Shit, a man of few words. That was too hard for me. I liked a man I could read and one I could talk to. “
You want a scotch?” I asked.

  He gave me a nod. “Yeah, thanks.”

  Well, at least he knew how to be polite even if he didn’t speak much. It had become so hard to find men with manners these days.

  He followed me over to the bar, and a couple of moments later, I placed a scotch in front of him. The fact he sat at the bar surprised me: he usually claimed a table in the back corner.

  “That guy come in here often?” he asked after taking a swig of his drink.

  “I’ve never seen him before.”

  He nodded and a thoughtful look crossed his face, but he didn’t say anything.

  “You know him?” I asked.

  His eyes focused on mine. Guarded. I bet this dude held thousands of secrets inside. “Let’s just say I know of him. He’s not a man you want back in here.”

  He kept his eyes glued to mine while he drank some more of his scotch. His stare unnerved me. Something no one managed to do these days

  Fuck, time to move away from him.

  I nodded at him and said, “Well, thanks again for your help.”

  Without waiting for his reply, I left the bar and headed to the office out in the back. I hadn’t even taken the time to make sure the staff was okay on their own. I needed a time-out so, hopefully, they’d cope without me.

  ***

  Two hours later I left the office and headed back out to the front. Paperwork had consumed my last couple of hours to the point of weariness. I found the bar almost deserted. Jess and Damian were serving the last few stragglers and I began getting ready to close. It looked like we might get an early one tonight, which, in one respect, was good, because I needed sleep, but the bills wouldn’t pay themselves.

  As I cleaned up, I knocked a glass to the floor and it shattered everywhere.

  Bloody hell, why couldn’t things be easy for once?

  I bent down to clean it and when I stood after getting all the glass picked up, I came face to face with a man sporting a long scar down his face. Malice clung to him and the hairs on the back of my neck raised. I feared for my safety and instinctively took a step back. When his two friends stepped forward with hostility clear on their faces, I figured we were as good as fucked.

  “Dale in?” Scarface enquired.

  “No.”

  “Where is he, sweetheart?” His voice gave me chills.

  “I haven’t seen him for two days so I can’t help you there.”

  His face darkened. “Looks like we’ve got a problem then, you and me. He owes me a lot of money and I need that money within the next forty-eight hours.”

  “Fuck off. It’s not my debt to clear up.”

  “You’re Layla, right? His business partner?”

  Shit, how the hell did he know that? “Even if I am, it’s still got nothing to do with me.”

  “He used his bar as collateral so it’s got everything to do with you.”

  “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Anger didn’t begin to cover my feelings toward Dale now. I should have done some damage to him the other day.

  “I don’t fucking kid. When I come back in two days, I’ll expect to see the twenty grand he owes me.”

  My head almost exploded. Twenty fucking grand!

  “There’s no way I can come up with that kind of money in two days.”

  “It’s a pity.”

  “Huh?”

  He dipped his head at my hands. “You’ll miss those fingers, sweetheart.”

  “Are you fucking threatening me, asshole?” Yeah, possibly not my best move, pissing a man like him off.

  Something behind Scarface caught my eye, and I diverted my attention to see what it was. The scary dude from earlier walked towards us. I hadn’t realised he was still here.

  He approached Scarface, aggression written all over him. “I see you’ve resorted to threatening innocent women these days, Mario.”

  Holy god, his voice had a dangerous tone to it.

  Mario glowered at him. “Fuck off, Blade. This has nothing to do with you.”

  Blade.

  “No, but I don’t like the way you’re talking to her. And I’m in the mood to help a friend out.”

  Friend? Where the hell had that come from?

  Mario quirked his brows and looked at me as he said, “You’ve got some friends in low places, sweetheart.” I really wished he would stop calling me that.

  Blade shot me a look that very clearly told me not to step into this.

  “How about you leave her alone and search harder for the guy you’re after,” Blade suggested.

  “And how about you leave me to deal with this the way I choose. Don’t you have other shit to take care of?”

  Blade stepped closer to Mario, his hard glare sending a very clear message. Don’t fuck with me. “I’ve always got shit to take care of.” He thought about something for a minute before saying, “You know, I was talking to Ice the other day, and he mentioned you owe him a bit at the moment. Asked me what I thought he should do and I told him you’d probably be good for it. I’m rethinking that advice now.”

  I caught the slight widening of Mario’s eyes. It looked like Blade had hit gold. His face reddened with anger. “You’ve always fucking had it in for me. Why the fuck are you sticking your nose into this shit? You got something going on with her?”

  I opened my mouth to set him straight, but Blade shook his head at me before glaring back at Mario. “None of your goddamn business, motherfucker. All you need to know is I will fuck with you if you fuck with her.”

  His last threat seemed to do the trick. Mario took a step away from the bar and motioned for his men to follow suit. He turned his gaze to me. “Looks like it’s your lucky fucking day, sweetheart. But when you see Dale, you tell him I’m looking for him.”

  He stalked out of the bar and when I could no longer see him, I turned to Blade. “What the hell was that?”

  Raising his brows, he asked, “What? No thank you?”

  “I don’t know who the hell you are, and what the hell you’re involved in, but I figure it’s not a good thing a debt collector like that asshole thinks I’m your woman.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong. Him thinking you’re my woman is the best thing that happened to you tonight.”

  “Fuck!” I was so angry at this whole situation and the fact I had no control over any of it.

  “Trust me, Layla, he won’t be back to bother you.”

  “How the hell do you know that?”

  “The guy I mentioned, Ice? He’s a drug dealer and the amount of money Mario owes him is enough to get him killed if Ice feels so inclined.”

  Holy shit, who the fuck is this man standing in front of me to know all these shady people?

  “So you’d have enough sway to convince Ice to do that?”

  His stare told me everything I needed to know even if he chose not to answer me. “Let’s just say you’re safe and leave it at that.”

  My head began to pound. “Why would he be after my business partner? Like, what kind of shit does that mean Dale’s gotten himself into?”

  “Horses.”

  I placed one hand on my hip and ran the other across my forehead while I expelled a long breath. “Jesus, I knew Dale liked to gamble here and there, but I never realised he had a problem with it. I should have, though.”

  “Why?”

  “I’ve worked with him for years, and then, about twelve months ago, he asked me if I wanted to buy into the bar. I knew he did that because he needed money, but I thought it was to help his ex-wife out. Then, two days ago I discovered he’s been stealing from the business. Little bits here and there that I didn’t miss or notice, but now there’s no cash left in our bank account and it seems he’s done a runner.”

  “He played you for a fool, huh?”

  “Yeah, and I can’t fucking believe I didn’t see it.”

  Jess and Damian had stayed quiet through this whole thing but Jess interrupted us now. “You’re not a fool, Layla. You trusted someone w
ho took advantage of that trust, but it doesn’t make you a fool.”

  “If I ever see him again, it won’t be pretty,” I muttered.

  Jess grinned. “I can imagine.” She knew me well. Knew I gave people one chance only. If they fucked with that, I didn’t go back for seconds.

  Blade’s phone rang and he walked away to take the call. I went back to helping Jess and Damian get ready to close the bar. We were almost done and I couldn’t wait to get out of here tonight. The stress of the last two days had started catching up on me, and all I wanted to do was sleep it off.

  When he finished with his call, Blade came back to me. “What’s your phone number?”

  “Why?”

  “I’m gonna check in on you, make sure Mario’s not giving you grief.”

  “I can take care of myself, Blade,” I answered, annoyed.

  “Yeah, I saw that.” His sarcasm was not lost on me.

  “We don’t need to exchange numbers.”

  Frustration crossed his face, but he remained patient. “Humour me, okay?”

  “Oh for fuck’s sake, fine,” I snapped and rattled off my number to him.

  He saved it on his phone and then sent me a text message. “Now you have mine, too. Use it if you need me.”

  I could imagine there were plenty of women who would kill to have that phone number. Blade was a good-looking man and had a mysterious sexiness about him, but there was no way in hell I would ever be using that number. However, I nodded in agreement. I figured he wouldn’t leave until I agreed to that.

  “Good,” he murmured, and began to walk away from me.

  I let my gaze drop to his ass. He had a great ass and the jeans he wore hugged him, accentuating it. My gaze travelled up his body. He was wearing a black t-shirt and black leather jacket. The memory of how hard his chest was came back to me, causing desire to shoot through me.

  “Drinks are on the house next time you come in,” I yelled out.

  He turned back to me, and with a flicker of a smile, said, “Finally, she says thank you.”

  Fuck, he read me well. “Yeah, yeah,” I said, waving a dismissive hand at him.

  He gave me a chin jerk. Still no full smile, but he didn’t strike me as the kind of man to give out too many of those. “Catch you later,” he said, and then he was gone.