drink leisurely. “He’s a slimy, greedy bastard and can sabotage us when we decide to run the tip to the police.”
“Let’s wait and see.” Ghost sounds thoughtful. “I don’t mind if it’s a small share. A gangster war is the last thing I want.”
“We’re not afraid of him or his little gangsters.” I meet his gaze. “We’re fucking killers.”
“I say we show a firm hand, too.” Mist nods.
Look at the old hag agreeing with me.
“We’re not killing for sport anymore.” Ghost glares at both of us. “Innocents are off the bloody table.”
“They’re not innocents if they attack first.” I lift a shoulder. Ghost’s twisted up moral codes don’t make any bloody sense.
If anyone screws us, they’re dead. It’s as fucking simple as that.
No second chances. No nothing.
We never got ours so why should we distribute it like bloody candy?
“Stay low, Shadow,” he warns.
I smile wide. “I don’t do low, mate.”
“Don’t cause trouble.” He sighs and Mist shakes her head.
I place a hand on my heart and grin in mockery. “I promise to meet my troubles halfway.”
“The saying is do not meet your troubles halfway.” He corrects. He always does that.
I shrug. “Same thing, mate.”
He releases a breath and continues drinking in silence with the old hag.
Ghost isn’t only my mate; he’s my saviour. He pulled me from death’s clutches when older homeless men ganged up on me to steal my blanket. I was beaten before but never with that brutality. I thought I was dying. I should’ve given them the fucking blanket, but I was never the type to give up what was mine.
Once I decide something belongs to me, the whole fucking world but that thing will be lit on fire.
I owe Ghost a life. That’s why I agreed to run a mafia business with him even if the idea doesn’t appeal to me. However, I can’t let him save all of Team Zero. It’ll ruin everything I’ve been doing to protect my secret for years.
While Ghost and Mist converse, I retrieve my phone and stare at the text message I received a week ago.
I know what you did that summer. Wait. Was it winter?
If someone knows, they need to be dead.
Chapter Five
I’ve never thought of myself as a hot-blooded person. It takes a lot to royally piss me off. My temper simmered under the surface. I definitely don’t go throwing punches like Elle to vent off negative energy.
But oh, man.
That Shadow – is that even a name? – pisses me the hell off. I stare at his back as he exits the club with his guard, and I’m itching. No, I’m boiling to kick him in the arse. Although that’s such a sexy arse to kick.
I shake my head. Seriously, what the hell? This must be the first time in my life where I’m attracted to someone who causes my nostrils to flare.
“You shouldn’t antagonise him,” a small voice says from my side. I barely hear it over the music.
Natalie.
She’s petite with the smoothest mocha skin I’ve ever seen. Her doe eyes appear black in the club’s dim light and her naturally-curled hair is gathered in a sophisticated bun. She already fixed her makeup; it doesn’t appear as if she was crying her eyes out not so long ago.
“What do you mean?” I face her and lean closer because she speaks low.
“Shadow is one of the owners here. He rules Le Salon with Mist.” Natalie waves a hand around. “All this is his.”
My heart drops somewhere out of reach.
I defied a leader in a place I need to infiltrate. I ruined this whole thing before even starting.
Son of a gun.
“But,” I blurt. “He’s a fighter, right?”
“He only does that for pleasure.” She lifts a shoulder and motions at me to follow her.
My movements are mechanical as I stumble from the stool.
What will I do now? I don’t think he hates me, but I sure got his attention in a bad way. How do I mend that?
I need to avoid him for now until I figure it out.
Natalie and I go into a back storage. The music and chaos from outside dim as Natalie shows me the variety of alcohol stock. She goes on about the bar’s storage. What’s expected from waitresses; being dressed in evening gowns and serving drinks to whoever asks.
I lean against one of the shelves where Natalie is listing the special alcohol brands. She seems to know a lot. I thought she was an escort.
“So you’re a waitress?” I ask.
“I am.” She crouches and gently