Excitement coursed through me that I was moving back to Boston, especially to hang out with Duke, eat at all my old hangouts like Yvonne’s, where Grace was working, and more importantly, be closer to my daughter.
Sabine straightened, seemingly hurt that I wasn’t interested in her. “I hate that you sold it, but I understand. Maybe we can have dinner before you leave town permanently.”
I had to give her props for continually trying to strike up a relationship with me, a feat she’d perfected over the last nine months she’d been working at Rogues.
If my abusive old man had taught me anything before I packed a bag, gave him the finger, and took off during my teenage years, it was not to shit where you ate. It was a hardlesson on his part when he got caught fucking his boss’s wife—the reason why he drowned himself in bourbon.
I rubbed a kink in my neck. “I won’t have time. I have a ton to do before I sign the papers.”
She frowned. “Harris and I were hoping to see Fran during her spring break. We just adore her. I’m going to miss her helping out here during her vacation from school.”
Fran was attending a prestigious private academy in Connecticut. When I had made the move to Nashville, I initially enrolled her in a high school nearby so we could be close to each other. But she pleaded with me to transfer her to Oakwood Academy, where many of her friends from her previous school in New York were headed to start their freshman year. Her happiness was everything to me, so I hadn’t been able to say no.
I held in a growl, mainly at the mention of Harris. “Fran is too young to date your son.”
At sixteen, my daughter didn’t need to be tangled up with a nineteen-year-old who had a wandering eye and a penchant for drugs and fast cars.
He’d gotten smitten with Fran the first time he’d met her. Not that I blamed him. My daughter was gorgeous—all legs, blond curls, and deep-green eyes that blinded a person. I might be biased, of course, but I knew exactly what Harris was thinking when he laid eyes on Fran. I had been a hormonal teenager once with a constant hard-on that I couldn’t tame.
“She’s sixteen,” Sabine said. “Surely, she likes boys.”
Fran and I never talked about boys or the birds and the bees. I’d tried once, and I had failed miserably. But Grace was there for my daughter. Fran felt better discussing womanly things with her or Fran’s bestie’s mom.
Regardless, I knew the day was coming when boys would be in the picture. Hell, she probably had a boyfriend, and I would be the last to know. Still, I wasn’t ready to see her with a boy. Shehad a bright future ahead, and with her brilliant mind, she was on track to graduate high school a year early.
The squeal of hinges cut through my thoughts and the tension between Sabine and me like a knife, and the air changed before I saw him.
Arturo Rodriguez, a short Latino man with thick black hair, hadn’t aged a day. He was still wearing power like a second skin as he strutted in, dressed in a sharp suit and shiny loafers that screamed cartel money while his dark eyes promised blood and violence.
My hand found the SIG under the bar purely on instinct, muscle memory from days I pretended were behind me. But I was an idiot to believe that my past wouldn’t come back to haunt me.
Sabine tossed a look over her shoulder. “I’m sorry, sir. We’re closed for the night.”
Arturo Rodriguez smiled coldly at Sabine. “I’m here to talk to my friend.”
The head of the Mexican cartel strode up to the bar, sizing Sabine up like she was his next conquest.
His bodyguard took up a position by the door like a well-trained attack dog.
“Sabine, it’s time for you to leave.” My voice stayed steady even as memories of blood, drug deals, and betrayal flooded back.
“I still have to finish setting the tables for tomorrow,” she said.
“I’ll do that,” I replied, not taking my attention off Arturo.
The last time he and I had met, we had guns in each other’s faces over a deal gone wrong not long before Rosario swept into Boston and took over as the lead drug supplier.
Sabine didn’t move as she smiled at Arturo in a flirtatious sort of way.
I swore the woman was either desperate to get laid or starving for attention from a man. She’d told me she’d had a messy divorce several years ago but hadn’t dated since. She had to work three jobs at times to pay for rent, food, and also medical bills for her younger sister, who’d gotten a brain injury from an accident that Sabine didn’t elaborate on.
I was disheartened by her plight, but I paid her a good salary, and she made a decent amount in tips. Still, her business was her own.
I kept my face blank while ice froze my veins. “Sabine,” I warned, “I’ll walk you out.”
She flinched at the growl in my tone and scurried behind the bar to collect her purse.
Arturo flashed a hungry look at her. “She can stay if she wants to.”
