He must have seen something in me that night. I went from short-order cook to security guard at one of his clubs. After about a year, Dax called me into his office. I thought he was there to fire me. He had fired three other security guards that month, but that’s not what happened.
Then
“I have a job for you.” He doesn’t elaborate but gestures for me to sit.
I don’t. I remain standing while I wait to hear more. I already have this job, and even though I hate the crowd, the drunks, and the loud music, this is the most money I’ve ever made in my life. “What do you think this business is?” he asks.
I think before I answer. I know it’s more than a club. I see the men he meets with in the back rooms. Men dressed in expensive suits, who will drop thousands on an expensive bottle of booze.
“That’s not my business,” I finally respond.
Dax raises an eyebrow. “That’s not what I asked.”
“It’s a nightclub.”
He owns two others, but I’ve only ever worked here.
“And?” he insists. When I remain quiet, he says, “Speak freely. That’s an order.”
“And is used for money laundering.” The men in expensive suits are criminals who run drug-dealing enterprises or deal guns. Dax owns businesses. It doesn’t take a genius to put it all together. “But, like I said, that’s none of my business.”
“What if I made it your business?” He stands behind his desk and gets in front of me. “I’ve been watching you, and I could use a guy like you.”
“Like me?”
“Smart, quiet, observant, and packs a mean punch. No vices.” When I remain stoic, he says, “You don’t drink, do drugs, or chase pussy. Any man who chases those three things is compromised.”
“If you say so,” is all I say back.
“I have a job for you. One that’s a lot more lucrative than this one, but I need someone I can trust.”
“What will I be doing?” I like the idea of earning money.
“Have you ever heard of a little town called Shadow Cove?”
Now
As if I have no control over my mind or bike, I end up on her street. It’s a basic, quiet, and boring suburban street. She’s the type of girl who grew up in a house you would find on a road like this. Now, she’s acting grown-up by living in the garage apartment.
I have her information. I know her name, date of birth, and address. Although the address on her license is Boston, I assume she has just moved back, as I’ve never seen her before last week. And I know all the members of the sheriff’s family since he was my first order of business when I arrived in Shadow Cove.
From his two-faced wife and other daughter. It’s my job to know.
I could find out everything about Eden, but I won’t bother because I’m not the type of person who conducts background checks. I’m the don’t fuck with me or you’ll regret it type. I’m the type to figure out who you are from your vibe. And if I need a background check, we have someone to do it.
More importantly, I’m not interested in her. So, why am I slowing down as I get closer to her house? I roll into the end of her driveway, and I see her. Despite the darkness of the hour, I can tell by how the person is walking that it’s her.
She’s in a long jacket with her hand on her lower back. She’s walking as if she’s in pain while she carries a Tupperware bowl across the driveway.
I roar my engine, and she turns her head. When she pulls the hood off her head, I see AirPods in her ears.
She stands there like a deer in headlights, and when I turn my motorcycle into her driveway, she runs and drops the bowl she was carrying. Speeding past her, I cut her off.
She runs through the grass, and I jump off my bike. It only takes me three steps to get ahead of her. She stops herself from colliding with me.
She stands there, breathing hard and trembling. She won’t look up at me, and I ache to grab her chin and force those soulful eyes on me, but I can’t touch her.
We stand there, her breathing hard, me studying and memorizing everything about her. I wish she had never come to my club last week. Ever since then, I’ve been in a hell-like state. I’ve done nothing but think of her.
