“You want to rent my villa?”
“Yes. I will cover the cleaning expenses of course.”
“Oh, no need for that,” she paused, looking a little hesitant. “I guess you could rent it. My realtor actually advised me to try it. I almost never use it.”
“Really?” I asked, excitement taking over me. “Are you sure? If you think it’s inappropriate, I won’t keep it against you.”
Although I would be really disappointed and frustrated that I had to start looking for something else first thing in the morning.
Amanda shrugged and waved she hand. “Just don’t make a huge deal about it in the office.”
“I won’t say a word to anyone.”
She put her plates on a tray and strolled over to the door.
“The more I think about it, the more I like the idea, Hannah. And you will have a great weekend there. It was a pool. Eight bedrooms. It’s actually perfect for a party.”
A villa all to ourselves. A private pool. That sounded like exactly the fun weekend I needed.
“Thank you so much, Miss Reed. I owe you one.”
“Don’t worry about it. Swing by my office tomorrow morning and we will set it up.”
Chapter Nineteen
Tyler
On Thursday evening, exactly one week after I got back from California, I sat behind the bar counter. Alone. The big opening was scheduled for the next day. Not only that we were opening the bar for customers, but we were having a fight downstairs. A fight I knew nothing about because no one told me shit these days. Being kept in the dark while I also would be one hundred percent accountable if anything went wrong bothered me. And I never got bothered.
I also had another issue that made me stay at the bar every night, rinsing and drying brand-new glasses that were absolutely clean. I couldn’t get Hannah Spencer out of my head. My brain played on repeat every second we spent in that bathroom at my mother’s house last Wednesday.
More than a week had passed, and I still couldn’t shake it off. The gentle brush of Hannah’s mouth on mine that detonated my resolve to only vex her.
I no longer wanted to enrage her.
I wanted to corrupt her. To drive her mad.
She knocked walls down with the success rate of a wrecking ball and I wanted to do the same with her. Break that perfect good girl exterior to pieces.
I could still feel her velvet skin beneath my palms, beneath my fingertips. I remembered how I dug them into her flesh hard, furious at her and the way she made me feel.
I was rearranging the storage room for a third time since I got back from Cali, when I heard footsteps. I found two of Patrick Hayes’s thugs leaning over the bar counter.
“You are coming with us. The boss expects you in his office.”
This was my life now. Patrick Hayes had me by the balls and I was expected to keep my mouth shut and follow orders. So I locked the bar and got into their car.
An hour later we finally arrived at the Hayes’ mansion. The last ten minutes of the drive we spent after we crossed the gates. Huge trees surrounded his enormous two-story house. It looked like they were planted around it on purpose, to hide it from sight. And his many enemies.
Not that I was expecting a tour or anything, but I wasn’t expecting to be pushed through a door right after we stepped inside the house. A staircase led down to a dark corridor to an underground level. It didn’t look good, but I hadn’t fucked up yet, so I guessed they weren’t about to kill me and set me on fire.
That was Patrick Hayes’ signature act. Setting on fire everything he wanted gone. It wasn’t enough for him to put a bullet in your head or slash your throat. He wanted his enemies to disappear completely. Like they never even existed. At least that was what people said about him around town.
We walked past a few closed doors. The only sound around came from our footsteps and the buzzing of the lamps. We reached the end of the corridor and one of Patrick’s men opened a door. I entered and they shut it behind me without a word.
It turned out Patrick wasn’t waiting, so I spent some time looking around. The room was big, but it had so much furniture it felt claustrophobic. A beige sofa was plastered against one of the walls. There was a table with four chairs in the other corner. It looked like a room he used for talks rather than for beating the shit out of people. I didn’t know what would Hayes use a desk for, but he had a big one. Two comfortable chairs in front of it for his visitors. I sat down at one of them.
And just sat there alone for an hour and a half. No one came in. I spent most of the time with eyes closed, Hannah’s face dancing behind my eyelids. The door finally flew open, and I forced her out of my mind. Patrick Hayes walked in, followed by his son.
I shook hands with the father. The son stayed close to the exit.
“Sit,” Hayes said and did the same. “Is everything ready for tomorrow?” He asked Kieran, who didn’t say anything, but I assumed he nodded because his father continued. “Good. And you?” He asked me. “Are you ready?”
“No. I have no idea what I am supposed to do tomorrow. I don’t even know who’s fighting.”
Patrick opened a drawer.
“That’s a list of our special customers.” He handed me a piece of paper. “There are some high-profile men on it. They will spend a lot of money and will expect to be threated accordingly. And this is a list of the fighters.” He examined it with a frown. “You are now their new best friend. If someone needs medical assistance, you call this number.” He pointed at a number written on the papers. “If someone dies, you cover it up until the clients leave and you call Kieran. If you have any questions, you call Kieran.”
So Kieran was my new best friend.
I glanced over my shoulder. Kieran had the facial expression of a soldier on a mission. No one could say what he was thinking but the determination to get the task done was written all over him. Body tensed. Jaws clenched. Eyes narrowed at his father. Like he was watching his every move.
Patrick leaned back in his chair as if he was waiting for me to stand up and leave. I folded the papers, got up and stuck them into the back pocket of my jeans.
“Just out of curiosity, do we expect someone to die? Or it’s just some inside joke I am not aware of yet?”
Patrick sent me a death glare, then pointed behind my back to his son reminding me again who was the person that I had to turn to with my questions. I nodded and left the room. Kieran followed. We strolled down the long corridor and fell into step. Now that his father wasn’t around his face eased a bit.
“How old are you?” I asked.
“Old enough.”
“Which is…?”
“I turned twenty a month ago.”
“Aren’t you a bit young for such an important task?”
A smile formed on his lips. “My only task is to keep an eye on you.”
“Your father said to call you if someone dies.”
“If you do a good job, you won’t have to make that call.”
The little prick reminded me of Clem in her moody years and I wondered if I could really make a friend out of him. I would certainly use one in their organization. We reached the staircase that would lead us back upstairs, to the main entrance.
“I’m going back to the bar,” I said. “Come have a drink with me.” Kieran shot me a look that said he wasn’t interested at all. “I’m not the most reliable person in the world. It’s safe to assume that I will fuck up eventually, but I would very much like that not to happen on the first night.” I pulled the lists out of my pocket and waved them in the air. “Maybe you could tell me something useful about these people.” He waited with a blank expression on his face, and I smiled. “What’s wrong with wanting to be on good terms with the person who will save my ass when I need it?”