Of course, every day, and I got myself a permanent-for-now job. And if the tips continue to come along plus the hourly rate, then I should have enough for food and clothes.
Until I can straighten my life out, that is.
Tracy runs in through the backdoor, panting and adjusting the apron on her waist while asking quietly, “Did you miss me?” My brows furrow at this as she pulls her hair into a ponytail. “As in searched for me.”
“Just for one table, but then they grabbed the tray themselves.”
She winces and glances around before leaning closer to whisper, “Did Herb see that?”
“Nope. I’m not sure where he is.” The man generally gave a don’t-fuck-with-me attitude with his broad shoulders, beefy arms, and leather clothes.
He closed the door to his office hours ago and just barked for us to get our asses moving, because the bar wasn’t going to run itself.
She sighs in relief, grinning. “Thank God. He’d for sure rip me a new one for those few minutes.” Before I can comment on that, we hear the bell above the door jingle, and she runs off, throwing over her shoulder, “Customers.”
I nod, and then the guy who took the tray is back, flashing me a grin. “Can I have a beer?”
“Sure,” I say, and I go to the tap to get him one in a glass, but he shakes his head.
“I’d like one in a bottle please.” He points at the refrigerator, and I do as he says, turning around and snatching it from the cooler, when I hear the guy mutter, “Hey, man, I was standing here.”
“Now, you’re not. Move.” The deep, husky voice laced with steel and power freezes me. The bottle and glass in my hands clink against each other while the memory of this voice flashes in my mind, like snippets of a horror movie you can never forget no matter how much you wish you never watched it.
A day won’t go by that you won’t regret what you did. Prison is just the beginning, Phoenix.
The man who has haunted me since the very beginning of my nightmare, who doesn’t let me go even when the whole world knows I didn’t kill his wife.
I probably should have expected he’d come after me. Yet, for some stupid reason, the naïve me thought he’d transfer his fury toward the unsub. In criminal psychology, that’s what unknown killers are called until the police find them. Giving them nicknames is a mistake, as it feeds their psychopathic ego, putting more significance in their mind in the horrendous deeds they do.
“Lady, my beer?” the guy calls me, snapping me from the past and grounding me in the present.
And in the present, I’m not guilty of the crime this man has placed on me and will no longer take his abuse or hide away from him.
Gone are the fucking days when I cast my gaze down whenever he drilled his stare into mine, almost daring me to defend myself.
With a gulp of air, I spin around and come face-to-face with the deepest green eyes I’ve ever seen on a man. Like pure emeralds costing millions, they are filled with curiosity and something else that the man prefers to keep hidden.
His dark hair falls below his ears, glistening under the harsh bar light, and his skin is tan. He’s wearing a black leather jacket and probably has on matching jeans.
A man of his caliber is wealthy enough to have everything top notch, down to his fucking socks.
He’s muscled yet doesn’t seem like he will burst open the seams of his clothes. A chain dangles from around his neck, the tip of it under his white T-shirt, which hints at a well-defined six-pack below.
Zachary King could probably be considered the most handsome man I’ve ever seen with the dominant and powerful energy swirling around him, indicating that nothing in his life happens without his permission.
And if does… you pay dearly for it. My life is testament to that.
Ignoring his prying eyes, I smile at the customer and give him the beer. He glances at Zachary one last time before walking back to his friends.
“I’d like a glass of whiskey on the rocks,” he tells me. Without saying anything, I pick up a glass, drop ice into it and pour whiskey before sliding it toward him. “Thank you, Phoenix.” Goose bumps of disgust spread through me at the sound of my name on his lips, and I squeeze the counter under me hard, my nails scratching the surface so I won’t do something stupid like spit in his face or tell him to go to hell.
He won’t cost me this job, and I just bet he wishes he could. Does he think showing up here will make me lose my composure so he can screw up my life even more?
Then he has another think coming. I won’t do any of those things.
“Ignoring me won’t help. I won’t go away,” he says, sipping his drink while I wipe the countertop. I concentrate on my breathing so my hands won’t tremble. I don’t want him to see how much this affects me.
How much rage and fear fill my every bone, the only emotions he inspires within me.
“Phoenix, look at me.” I continue to clean up, putting the whiskey bottle back in its place, and he orders again, his voice deepening, “Look at me, dammit.”
Stilling my movements, I raise my eyes so our gazes clash, his challenging and mine indifferent, because fuck him if he thinks he will know what I feel.
The minute he does, he will use it against me, because that’s how powerful men like him operate when they want something you have.
Find your weakness and send an arrow straight to it, killing you with one strike.
“Talking to you is not part of my job description. So unless you want another drink, you do not exist to me,” I inform him, ready to turn around to take care of the table behind me before someone else shows up, but he chuckles, the sound sending chills down my spine.
“Very well.” He finishes his drink with one gulp, placing the glass on the bar, rattling it loudly. “I want another drink, Phoenix.”
Stilling the scream of frustration inside, I wrap my hands around the whiskey bottle and pour him another one right in time to the jingling of the door, indicating someone else has shown up.
Right on cue, Tracy rushes over, fanning herself, and whispers to me, “Another hottie just entered. Oh my God, he is gorgeous in the suit-guy way.”
Suit guy?
I’m not sure if Zach heard her, but he probably did if his mouth curving in a smile is anything to go by. I turn my head to the newcomer, wondering who has her so weak in the knees.
Or that’s the excuse I give myself, so I won’t have to look at Zachary’s face and hold myself back from punching him.
But the bottle in my hands slips through my fingers, clattering against the countertop and spilling the whiskey everywhere. I see a blond-haired man with the most beautiful blue eyes that used to gaze at me with love.
And now they are shining brightly with remorse as he looks at me, majestic and handsome in his black suit that fits him like a glove, and his skin with several tattoos hidden behind that perfect suit. This is the person he shows to the world.
His hair is short, just barely reaching the tips of his ears, and I notice how he has become more handsome in the passing years.
He must be happy to give off such a vibe. I wonder why.
I imagine a new love interest would do that to a man.
The heart inside my chest contracts, squeezing so tightly for a second I don’t know how to breathe. We stare at one another, the outside world disappearing for a moment like a blur, making it seem like we are the only people in it.