Authors: Christine Bell
S
adie’s eyes
crept open and, for a second, she tried to get her bearings. She peered over at her alarm clock and gasped. 10:30 AM. Even when she had jobs that went well into the night, she'd always been an early riser. But after she’d left Jake’s, she’d been too wired to fall asleep.
God, it had been amazing. She had expected it to be good. He was too perceptive, too smart, that mouth far too sensual for him to be bad in bed. But the way he made her feel had exceeded all expectations.
If only she could go back in time and undo the part where she’d dashed off into the bathroom and had begun talking to herself like a lunatic, that would be awesome.
She squeezed her eyes closed with remembered humiliation. Tough, bad-ass Sadie Leighton, reduced to a blabbering bundle of goo by a part-time grifter with a lethal dimple and magic hands.
If his skill as a conman came even close to his skill as a lover she had no doubts that Alistair Hannigan was about to get his just desserts.
She took one more guilty glance at the clock and flopped back against the bed with a groan. Her shift at Roberto’s started in less than an hour. She could either call in sick, or she could rush around like a mad woman so as not to be late and wind up getting an earful from Roberto himself. How she would’ve loved to take the day off and wallow in her embarrassment.
It was only the thought of poor Monica having to manage the entire restaurant by herself that had her tossing back the covers and swinging her legs out of bed.
For the next forty minutes, though, her thoughts never strayed far from Jake.
Would he call today? It was hard to say. A man with less confidence certainly wouldn’t. Not after she’d run out of there like her ass was on fire. Which was probably for the best. It gave her the entire evening to rehash every touch, every kiss, every moment between them and try to figure out what was real, what was fantasy and what, if any, kind of relationship they could have in the future.
As she entered the restaurant a short while later, she had settled on a course of inaction. Until the poker game was over, there was no point in trying to make decisions on anything. Everything was riding on that night. If something went wrong with the cards and she lost her stake, she’d be in no position to talk about the future because her future would be exactly the same as her past.
Her trying to make a dollar out of ninety-nine cents, looking for some other way to get some breathing room and a jumpstart to a new life.
She also had no idea how long Jake needed in order to complete his business. He could be in revenge mode for the next year for all she knew. Until Friday night came along, she was going to see how things unfolded, go with the flow and worry about the fallout later.
That decision filled her with a sense of calm as she made her way into to the restaurant. She strode down the hallway, already counting the hours until her shift was over. She slowed when she reached the ladies’ room door, veering off so she could throw her wig into a ponytail.
She had just found a hair-tie when a low sniffle from one of the stalls caught her attention.
“Hello?” she called softly, cocking her head to hear better. “Who’s in there?”
The restaurant wasn’t open to the public for another forty-five minutes, so it was probably one of the staff.
"Sadie? Is that you?’ Hair prickled on the back of her neck at the sound of Monica's hushed voice.
"Yeah it's me. Are you okay, Monica? What's going on?"
"A-are you alone?”
The other waitress sounded choked, her throat clogged with tears, and Sadie stepped closer to the stall door, her nerves rattling like a Texas diamondback.
"Yes. It's just me out here. Let me in.”
There was a long pause and, for a second Sadie thought that Monica wasn't going to come out, but then the locking mechanism grated against the latch and the door swung open.
When she caught sight of Monica, she drew back with a gasp. The tears rolling down her co-worker’s cheeks were concerning enough, but it was the purple black and blue covering her cheekbone from nose to temple that sent a wash of rage rushing over Sadie.
"Jesus, what happened?" she demanded in a low whisper, taking a step closer and reaching out a hand to explore the area with gentle fingertips.
There didn’t seem to be any obvious broken bones but that wasn't for lack of trying. Whoever had done this had meant business.
She ran through several possible scenarios but given the tears on her friend's face and the shame in her eyes, she knew in her heart what had happened without having to ask. She’d save them both the embarrassment of pathetic, canned excuses about being clumsy and hitting her face on the cabinet. She looked the other woman in the eye and said simply, "Where is he now?"
Monica licked away the tears that had dripped onto her full lips and shook her head slowly. "I don't know. Not at the apartment, though. He left last night in a rage. He took my cell phone, my credit cards and my car keys with him. I walked here. What am I supposed to do without a car?"
Sadie managed to bite back a snarl. She couldn’t be of any help to Monica if she let her anger consume her. Right now, she had to make sure her friend was somewhere safe and she would think about the rest later.
She kept her voice low and steady and held Monica’s gaze with a solemn one of her own.
"I want you to listen to me, and I don't want you to argue. You need to leave here. Go to my apartment. I'll give you the keys. I want you to lock the door behind you and don't let anyone in. Ice your eye, drink some tea, get some rest. I can manage both of our stations easily enough by myself. I have a few things to do tonight, and then I’ll be home and we’ll figure out where to go next. Think you can do that for me?"
Monica’s blue eyes filled with another rush of tears. “I appreciate the offer so much, Sadie, but what about Roberto? I can’t lose this job-"
"He’ll live. As long as service goes smoothly, he’ll be fine. I’ll tell him I found you in here getting sick and I told you to leave because I didn’t want to catch it. It will be way worse if he sees that black eye and you’re walking around the restaurant weeping all day.”
Monica sniffled loudly, took a step forward and then threw her arms around Sadie, squeezing tight.
"Thank you. Thank you so much.”
Sadie accepted the hug, refusing to let panic drag her under.
This was twice, now. Two times in less than a week she’d allowed someone to burrow their way past the walls that protected her. She wasn’t sure if she was getting soft or careless, but in either case, it had to stop. Until she figured out how to manage her own shit, she couldn’t keep inviting people into her life. Not when her life was a lie.
Monica pulled away leaving a wet spot on Sadie’s blouse, her lips shaking into a smile of such pure gratitude, it made Sadie’s eyes sting.
“I want you to know I’m not stupid. I know I have to leave him for good. I just don’t know how yet,” she whispered miserably. “He thinks I’m cheating on him. I’m not. That part doesn't even matter, you know? The only thing that matters is that he’s getting worse and worse. More and more paranoid and more violent with each new accusation.” She shrugged her suddenly delicate-looking shoulders and shook her head. "But I have nowhere to go. I have no money, no family, you're my only friend and that’s only because I never mentioned you. He would’ve found a way to ruin that too, if he could’ve. I want to leave, but where can I go?”
That was a great question. One Sadie didn't know how to answer. She was nowhere near stable enough to take long-term responsibility for another person. She was maxed out in a huge way with just herself and Clarissa. But she couldn’t let Monica risk her life by getting back into another dangerous situation with her boyfriend.
“What about the police? If he gets arrested you'll have your apartment to yourself for a while. You can pick up some extra shifts and I can loan you some money.” She mentally subtracted two grand from her twenty-five thousand dollar poker stake with an internal wince. “We can get you in a new place within a few weeks.”
It wasn’t often that Sadie suggested bringing the authorities in on anything. She had major trust issues when it came to cops, which made sense in her line of work, but there was no question that Monica’s boyfriend needed to be behind bars.
Before she responded, Sadie knew what the other woman was going to say before she even said it.
"Nothing will happen. He’ll get slapped with a restraining order that he'll just ignore. Then he'll post bail, be out in three or four days, even angrier that I called the cops on him. I watched my mom go through this same shit with my dad. I don’t want to be a doormat, but I’m terrified to see what he’s capable of.”
“So am I. And we won’t let that happen. I’m going to get your stuff back and we’re going to figure it out.”
Fury twisted at Sadie’s insides as she watched her friend wipe her swollen eyes. She didn’t need this now, not with the poker game just a few short days away. But even though she’d only known Monica a few months and had lied to her more often than she’d told the truth, the woman was the closest thing Sadie’d had to a friend in years. What kind of friend would just say
too bad, so sad,
and let her go back to that asshole?
No. She could handle this.
She reached into the dispenser and plucked out another wad of paper towels for her to clean her ruddy face. “What’s his name?”
Monica answered without hesitation.
“Dominic. Dominic Randazzo.” She exhaled hard and absently touched the bruise on her face as she inspected the damage in the mirror. “It’s nuts, I swear. He gets on me for cheating when I haven’t so much looked at another man since we’ve been together, but tonight he’ll probably be drinking away his paycheck at Scooter’s and paying some whore with the money he stole from my purse. How did I let it come to this?”
“You can’t blame yourself here. He’s the one with the problem. You just have to take care of you and you’re doing that by getting out of the situation.” Sadie patted her shoulder soothingly, but her mind had already gone into overdrive.
Dominic Randazzo.
Scooter’s.
It was like a gift, too perfect to ignore.
“Do you have a picture of him? You know, so I can keep an eye out for him in case he comes looking for you.”
Monica eyed her curiously through the mirror, then reached into her bag and pulled a sleeve of pictures from her wallet. There were dozens of snapshots of the unhappy couple, doing a very good job trying to look like a happy one. He looked like the wanna-be military type, with a tight crew-cut, perma-scowl, and, appropriately, a penchant for wearing wife-beaters.
Sadie hated him on sight.
“It’s going to be okay. I promise,” Sadie told her surely, mentally mapping out directions to the dive of a strip club in the seediest part of town. “You go on to my apartment, and try not to worry. I’ll take care of it.”
Sadie rattled off her real address, shoving back the fear and mistrust that rose up inside her like a snake ready to strike. She was going to be on the up-and-up soon and she needed to start acting like a normal human being. Giving Monica her address and offering her a safe place to lay her head wasn’t exactly Mother Theresa level stuff. It was just what friends did.
Monica’s brow furrowed. “
You’ll
take care of it? What do you mean?” Her eyes widened with fear. “Hold on. You can’t talk to him. If you even get involved, he’ll kill y-”
Sadie tugged a twenty she had shoved in her pocket and handed it to her friend. “I mean
we’ll
take care of it. We’ll come up with a plan together and it will all be okay,” she said hurriedly, shoving her toward the door. “Now isn’t the time to discuss it, though. Roberto is going to be looking for us and I don’t want him pissed off before I even break the news about you being sick. Go on, go.”
Monica let herself be ushered out but it was only after she didn’t return a few minutes later that Sadie felt like she’d truly followed her directive. She sucked in a breath and let it out slowly but that did little to curb her fury. Hot anger pulsed through her veins, blurring her vision. She leaned over and splashed water on her face.
“It’s going to be fine. Do the job, make the money, and then? Payback time,” she said to her reflection with a cold smile.
All in a day’s work.
Five hours later, she was counting her tips. Rage had settled to icy-cold anger, and she was happy for it. Having two stations to cover turned out to be a good thing, despite the number it did on Sadie’s feet. She hardly had time to think. Roberto gave her the expected earful and rode her ass the entire time, but she managed to handle both stations. Whenever she did have a moment to breathe, she found herself thinking of her poor co-worker. She’d trusted her boyfriend --been open and vulnerable-- and look what it got her.
When she pulled off her apron, she knew exactly where she was headed.
It wasn’t right for a person like Dominic to inflict so much pain, without experiencing a little of it himself.
And she intended to make sure she was the one who gave it to him.
A
couple hours
and a few stops later, Sadie pulled into the parking lot behind Scooter’s, all senses shifted into high gear.
She’d driven past this place a thousand times, but had never had the urge to go in. It was every town’s typical shady dive --a square, crumbling brick building with neon beer signs glowing in the few windows. The sign above the door was only half-lit, flashing the letters SCO T RS.
Sadie patted the red wig on her head, checked her crimson lipstick in the rearview mirror, and sucked in a breath to calm herself. It didn’t work, because a second later, her phone’s trilling ringtone sounded, making her jump so high her wig hit the car’s ceiling.
She looked over at the cup-holder, where she’d placed her cell phone, and saw Clarissa’s name on the display.
She considered answering it, but it would’ve been the hospital calling if it had been an emergency. She popped off a quick text letting her sister know she was working and would call her later. The fact that Clarissa responded with a “K” followed by a smiley face emoji didn’t make Sadie feel any less guilty, though. By involving herself in Monica’s drama, she was risking her own ability to provide for her sister’s well-being, and she felt like a right shit doing it.
But she was going to do it anyway. Because that’s what Robin Hood would’ve done.
Letting the memory of Jake’s sweet but misguided words give her strength, she threw open her car door. Then, she toddled across the street in her five-inch heels, trying to ignore the blisters she’d gotten during her shift. As she pulled open the door, she tugged on the hem of the too-short mini-skirt she’d picked up at a thrift store on the way over, saying a prayer under her breath.
Heavy clouds of cigarette smoke nearly wrung tears from her eyes. By the time they adjusted to the cave-like darkness inside, she realized all attention was on her.
All men,
looking hungry, and like the food truck just pulled in.
Ignoring them, she flipped her hair over her shoulder, walked to the bar, and threw her purse on it.
“Give me a beer. Whatever you have on tap,” she said gruffly, sliding onto the stool.
The jackals circled her as the bored barmaid slid the not-so-clean pint glass full of piss-colored liquid in front of her. Choking back her revulsion, she took a sip of the watery beer as the final strains of Pour Some Sugar on Me by Def Leppard wailed from the jukebox.
She looked up, scanning the faces of her admirers, and pushing back her disappointment when she realized old Dom wasn’t one of them. She spun around on her barstool and scanned the room through squinted eyes. There were about thirty guys milling around, give or take, and only one other woman.
None of them was Monica’s boyfriend.
She had just resigned herself to heading into the backroom labeled “Dancing Girls” when, out of the corner of her eye, she saw him. He was bent over taking a shot at a pool table in the far corner, a haze of smoke around his high-and-tight.
There was no doubt in her mind. He had a flannel shirt on over the wife-beater, and his eyes were heavy-lidded from drinking maybe one too many, but everything else was the same—the crew-cut, the steel-blue eyes, the tough-guy scowl.
He must have felt the weight of her stare, because he looked up, and the second he did, his gaze went from angry to cagey. She managed to hide her disgust and gave him her sexiest bat of the eyelashes and licked her lips.
He didn’t even bother to take his next shot, instantly handing the cue to his buddy before grabbing his beer and heading in her direction. His opponent called after him, but Dom didn’t spare him so much as a glance.
Gotcha.
Maybe she’d finally catch a break and this would turn out to be easier than she’d planned.
A second later, he was beside her. He leaned his elbow against the bar and his face broke into a wolfish, yellowing smile that made it instantly apparent why he hadn’t smiled in any of his pictures.
“Hey, gorgeous. What’s your name?” he asked.
“Rachel,” she said, crossing her legs in front of her, heart pounding as she looked around the room again.
There was a bouncer about thirty feet away near the entrance to the dancing room, and his presence settled her nerves some. If things got out of hand before they left the bar, at least she wouldn’t be a sitting duck in the middle of a pack of dogs.
“Dom.” Monica’s abuser reached into the pockets of his jeans. He pulled out a pack of Marlboros and offered it to her. When she shook her head, he said, “Haven’t seen you here before.”
“Just moved to town,” she said casually, painfully aware of the fact that he was standing close enough to smell his garbage breath, looking like a shark ready to take a bite.
“Yeah? We don’t usually get girls like you around here,” he said.
She forced a smile, and let the memory of what he’d done fuel her. She cocked her head and offered him a shrug. “Girls like me?”
“Yeah. Hot as fuck,” he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
Sadie fought off the urge to roll her eyes into the back of her head.
Monica, Monica, Monica,
she thought as she re-crossed her bare legs,
You are so much better than this.
“Dom, are you going to finish or what?” someone from across the room called. “We’re in the middle of a fucking game here.”
Sadie exhaled. Perfect opening. It was time to get this moving.
“Sorry!” she called as she wiggled her fingers at Dom’s friend and giggled. “Looks like I interrupted you,” she gushed, scaling her voice up an octave. “Are you any good?”
He motioned her over with a cocky grin. “Why don’t you come and see for yourself.”
She slid off the stool and followed him to where a few guys were milling around watching. They parted like the Red Sea to let her in, and one even went to get her a chair.
As the game progressed, it was easy to see how it would play out. His opponent was pitiful, but old Dominic was decent. Maybe even good.
Luckily, she was better.
He ran the last three balls on the table, neatly pocketing the eight ball before strutting around the table like a proud rooster.
Sadie clapped excitedly and jumped up from her chair.
“Wow. You’re great,” she cooed as he sidled closer, folding a small wad of cash. “And money too? How much did you win?”
“Just now? Couple hundred. But I’ve been winning all night,” he said with a wink, pocketing the cash. He handed the cue out to her. “You play?”
She shrugged. “A little. But I’m not that good, and I don’t want to lose all my money.”
“Aw, sweetie, I’ll go easy on you,” he said, his lips parting into a slick grin. “We’ll play for fifty bucks. But,” he looked around the room before leaning in to whisper, “if I win, I’m happy to take it out in trade, if you know what I mean.”
She slid off the stool and strolled over to the pool table. “Fifty bucks…or a trade,” she said, tossing her red hair over her shoulder coquettishly. “You’ve got a deal.”
The competitive side of her always hated this part. It took everything she had to bang the ball into the rails and miss on purpose. It bordered on torture, not being able to line up a series of shots and hear the
snick
of the ball as it slid into the pocket each time. She could hear her father in her ear even now, as she scratched for the second time in as many shots.
“Patience, girlie. You just gotta wait for it.”
When her turn came again, she bent low, acutely aware that Dominic was right behind her, gaze locked on the mini-skirt climbing perilously close to her ass cheeks. “I think I’m getting better.”
“I don’t think it can get much better than that,” he said, his voice gravelly, and she knew he was talking about the view.
She fought back the bile rising in her throat and took her shot, missing by just an inch this time. When she straightened, she noted the wolfish look was now rabid.
He picked up his cue and finished her off as she played her part, taking her beating with a smile.
“Good game, Dom. Gosh, you’re a great player.”
He nodded and moved closer. “So what’s it going to be, doll? You gonna give me fifty,” he moved his hand to his crotch and squeezed, “or am I gonna give you a solid eight?”
The guys who gathered around all laughed uproariously, and she even managed a chuckle to hide her gag.
“Did we agree on fifty?” she said, as he suddenly pulled her close. She gasped as his hot breath washed over her cheek. “I’m pretty sure fifty only gets you a kiss and maybe a pat over the clothes, Dom. I gotta tell you, I’m worth a shitload more than fifty bucks.”
His eyes went hard, like two chips of coal, and he looked like he was about to argue, but then he let his gaze travel over her body and nodded reluctantly.
“All right, you got a point there. Let’s play another game. You win, you keep your fifty bucks. I win, you’re mine.
All
of you,
all
night, however I want you.”
She let out a laugh, finally allowing herself to pull away. “However you want, huh? We almost have a deal, Dom. But if I win, fifty won’t cut it. I get all of this,” she reached into his pocket, her hand lingering near his crotch. She knew she had him when his eyes went from hard to hot on a dime. Then she pulled out the stash of money and slapped it on the side of the pool table.
“Deal?”
He laughed at her, clearly thinking that it didn’t matter what he was risking, because she’d never beat him. The quickly thickening crowd around them laughed right along with him. “Deal. Either way, baby, you win,” he said with a smirk.
Her stomach flopped again, but she pushed the words past her lips. “Promises, promises.” She grabbed the cue and nodded in his direction, “Rack ‘em.”
He did, and she got into breaking stance. When she let the cue ball fly, it hit its mark with a resounding crack, sending three balls careening into different holes and spreading the rest across the table.
“Nice break,” Dom said, his smile a little tighter than it had been moments before.
She didn’t bother to respond as she went to work. The next five minutes went by in a whirlwind as everything in the room fell away and she sank into the zone.
She couldn’t miss.
Snick.
Snick.
Snick.
Unlike a typical hustle, there was no need to sandbag, or miss a few shots to pretend she was just getting lucky. She wanted him to know he’d gotten played, and knew full well he wasn’t going to let her get far with his money.
In fact, she was banking on it.
His expression grew angrier with every shout of glee and guffaw from his comrades, and with each passing minute. Luckily, it didn’t take long to completely humiliate the strutting him, and when she finally looked up as she sunk the eight ball, there it was.
The perma-scowl. The malice. The violence brewing behind those cold eyes.
“I guess I win,” she said with an innocent smile, reaching for the money.
“Like hell,” he said, grabbing for her hand.
The guy who’d gotten her the chair stepped up and shook his head slowly at Dom. “She got you good, Dom. You lost fair and square.”
Dominic’s rage shifted for the briefest of moments to the other man, and Sadie took the opening. She quickly stuffed the money into her purse and gave the men a wave.
“I have to hit the little girls’ room, but I’ll be back in a jiff if one of y’all want next. Put up your quarters.”
Every man within earshot began digging through their pockets as she made her way toward the ladies’ room. She could feel Dom’s eyes on her and knew as well as he did that they weren’t done yet.
She bypassed the ladies’ room and headed toward the back exit, heart hammering.
For the first time since she’d walked into the bar, she felt actual, blood-chilling fear. Everything to this point had gone to plan, but this part? She was going to need a little luck to pull it off if she didn’t want a shiner to match Monica’s.
Or worse.
She reached a hand into her purse and darted out to hide directly to the right of the doorway. Like clockwork, not ten seconds later, Dom came barreling through, chest heaving, fists clenched.
“Where are you, you fucking bitch?”
“Right here, asshole,” she muttered as she lifted the hand holding the stun-gun and pressed it to his side. She pressed the button and her world shrank to the size of a pinprick as nothing happened.
His meaty hand wrapped firmly around her wrist and yanked it hard. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
Horror rocketed through her as he wrenched her arm over her head and pinned her against the wall, using his body to crowd her. He slammed her arm against the brick wall, and her elbow connected with a crunch, sending a searing pain down her arm. She tried to hold it, but the stun-gun fell to the gravel with a clatter.
“You were going to shock me, you cunt?” he demanded, spittle flecking her cheeks as he closed his free hand over her throat, crushing her windpipe. She gasped for air but there was none to be had as starbursts clouded her vision. All she could see was his red, rage-filled face...that suddenly morphed into the solemn face of her father.
When in doubt, girlie, kick 'em in the balls and run.
She closed her eyes and gathered the last of her strength. Then, she plowed her knee into his crotch with all her might. She wrenched herself away as he doubled over. She dove to the ground and grabbed ahold of the stun-gun, a prayer on her lips.
Please, God. Please work.
Just as he lunged for her again, she speared him in the ribs and pressed the button. He froze and then, with a low, guttural moan, fell to the ground in a convulsing heap.
Adrenaline coursed through her in nauseating waves as she sat there for a moment, stunned and gasping.
She was alive. It had been a close call, but damn it, she was alive.
She allowed herself exactly ten seconds to celebrate the fact and get some much-needed oxygen into her burning lungs, then she sprang into action.
His body was still twitching as she rolled him onto his back and riffled through the pockets of his cargo shorts. It was all there: Monica’s phone, her car keys with the cheap little Roberto’s restaurant key chain holding them together, and her credit cards.