He’s flirting. JFC. He’s flirting with me.
“You smell good too.”
Thank God, I get saved by the bell. Quite literally. His phone rings, and he mutters under his breath, settling back in his seat as he answers.
I tune out his conversation. There’s nothing exciting, and Walsh, no matter how important he thinks he is, is the lowest of the lows. Pretty much on par with me, if I was actually a desperate waitress looking for fast cash.
Thankfully, we have to pick up girls on the way. I’ve never met the other three, and since Walsh is still on the phone, we don’t get the chance to be introduced. He doesn’t stop talking, even when he pulls to the stop at a gate surrounding a huge warehouse. In front of us, there’s a couple of other cars waiting to be checked by security, but given the clientele coming, it makes sense and is to be expected.
The guard checks the boot, then shines a torch in our faces before standing on Walsh’s side to check his driver’s license. The level of organization, including guards with a list of people working tonight, is exactly the event I’ve been waiting for.
After the security check, he parks, and we get out to trail behind him. Just before he opens the back door, he spins around. “You all keep your fucking mouth shut aboutanything you see here tonight. You ain’t to listen to any private conversations, either. I swear, if I find out you’re out there telling people what happens behind these doors, there’ll be consequences.”
“Oh my God, of course, Walsh,” one of the other girls says, kissing arse effortlessly.
I basically say the same thing as she does.
“Honestly”—he jabs his finger at both of us, stopping us from continuing—“watch yourselves, and stay out of the way. You’re here to serve drinks to important men. Don’t let me catch you doing nothing but that. Right?!”
We’re all wide-eyed and nodding, even before he finishes being menacing and moves on to being disgusting. “Now, do Daddy proud in there. I’ve got a big bonus for each of you later if I’m happy with how you act. Yeah?”
I follow the other girls, giggling at the obvious suggestion. If it were up to me, I’d be punching him in the dick, then dropping him to the ground to cuff him for being a slimy fucker.
And then I prove what a goddamn actress I am by not reacting as we walk through the first room. One side is stacked floor-to-ceiling with cages full of animals. Pets, judging by the anguish in their eyes, and the other side has fewer cages, but the dogs inside are obviously fighting dogs.
I want to throw Walsh to the fighting dogs, but sadly, the next room gives me the reasons not to. This one has both men and women sitting bound on the floor. I don’t need to see their eyes to feel their fear.
As soon as we walk through a door to both the back rooms, he slams it shut behind us. And it’s figuratively what I have to do, too, shutting away what I saw, or I won’t survive the night. But dog fights, the skin trade, and public slayings are a part of this world—hopefully my being here will make a difference.
Walsh waves at the guards we pass. They’re placed strategically and armed with the latest weapons, all wearing black polos marked with “security” over the front.
Another corridor leads us to the warehouse. It’s been set up like you’d expect from a gaudy black-tie event. Black curtains hang down from the ceiling, hiding the industrial building. A fake floor has been installed, a DJ booth set up in one corner, and two bar areas stand almost diagonally opposite to each other.
“Stay here,” Walsh says to me before he flicks his hand at the other girls for them to follow behind. I watch as he delivers them to the bar areas they’re going to be working. I thought we’d be working in pairs, but I got that wrong.
The bars are all set up, by the looks. Honestly, no expense has been spared. If you didn’t know better, you’d think you were in a nightclub.
Walsh returns a few minutes later and walks me to the most extravagantly staged area of the room—the VIP section—staying behind me as I duck under the gold rope. The whole time, his piggy eyes are on my backside. I feel his gaze burn like poison ivy.
“Told you I’d look after you, Tally. You’re my VIP girl for the night. Anything they want, they get.” He wraps his arm around my shoulder, and that feeling of wanting to punch him in the dick returns with a vengeance.
I lean my head against his shoulder. “You’re amazing.” But then I’m taking a step, not too obvious, out of his space. “Wow, Walsh, you set this up? It’s crazy.”
“Pretty flash, ain’t it?” He goes to follow me in, but I block the entrance behind the bar by moving the bin.
“It’s all good if I set this up a little differently?” I say, already shuffling bottles.
And then, thankfully, his name gets called, and he’s racing away before he says another word.
Chapter Thirteen
TALLY
Whoever thought of having a VIP-exclusive area at an event where people in the criminal underworld are invited needs to have their head examined. I could have told them the concept was doomed to fail from the start, considering criminals aren’t known for being humble. In fact, I did. Walsh listened, then laughed in my face.
I’m not a bitch enough to laugh at him to prove a point, but I should, considering I made a point of warning him. I’d barely polished the glasses and shuffled the cheap liquor out of view before the security guard manning the entry to the VIP section was shot dead for refusing an Alpha entry.
At least the organizers were sensible enough to bust a nut, working as fast as they could to get rid of the body and the golden ropes designating the VIP area. The floors were scrubbed clean while another group of workers pushed the VIP lounges into the rest of the room, opening up the space. A few otheradjustments were made, so by the time the warehouse was half full, you wouldn’t know blood had been spilt earlier.
