Page 2 of Golden Knight

“I know you know something, and if you don’t tell me soon, I’m going to make your death nice and slow. No matter what he says,” I threaten as I point toward Zeev.

His face pales and I can’t help but think the worst. He either doesn’t know or she’s dead. “Tell me what you know. She has blonde hair, tall, and thin. She was taken when she was fourteen,” I grit out.

“Y-you just described a shit load of women we’ve had h-here,” he stutters out.

I slam him back and he falls onto the floor. I can’t stand this. “What disgusting assholes,” I say as I kick the piece of shit.

A hand presses on my shoulder and I realize my whole body is shaking with anger. “Feel better?”

I shrug Zeev off. I can’t deal with this. I head toward the door, needing air. Before I can get too far, he yells, “We’ll find her, man. We won’t stop until we find out what happened to her.”

That thought sends me spiraling. I don’t make it outside before the anger consumes me. I start kicking and punching everything in sight. It’s been too fucking long. Every time I get close to finding her, someone seems to be one step ahead of me. She’s always gone, out of my reach.

Someone needs to pay. I head back toward the bastard who couldn’t give me any answers. I pull out my gun, aim at him, and pull the trigger shooting him between the eyes.

Turning toward Zeev, I vow, “You're right. I will find her. No matter what.”

Chapter one

Amber

“Hey, Amber, did that order come in?” I turn around to see Max, the owner, leaning over the bar. His slicked-back, oily hair looks as if it could be wrung out. A striped button-down shirt with the top three buttons open shows off his very hairy chest. I’m sure he thinks he looks good, but he doesn’t. Not only does he look like a douche, but he grates on my nerves.

Unfortunately, I have to play nice if I want to keep being the manager of The Tower. And the manager of The Tower is the best job I’ve ever had and the only thing that feels right in my life. Well, except for the man in front of me. He never does anything for this place, he just gives me all his work.

Donning the most saccharine smile I can muster, I answer, “Yes, the order did come in, Max. I put it in the back.”

Max’s eyes don’t leave mine. A shiver creeps down my spine as he checks me out and all I can think is please leave. I don’t dare say a word either. I learned the hard way it only eggs him on. My prayers are answered because, after a tense minute, he knocks against the bar. “Got it. Thanks, doll.”

Turning away without another word, he heads toward the back room to check his precious order. Knowing he orders supplies that are blatantly personal and not for the club pisses me off. Mocking him, I mutter under my breath, “Thanks, doll.”

He’s such a patronizing asshole. Referring to me by some nickname that gives me the creeps. He doesn’t talk that way to any of the male employees, just us women. Aren’t we lucky? But since I’m the manager and interact with him the most, I hear it often. Too often.

“What a fucking douche,” I say quietly.

The only reason this place is even remotely successful is because he was smart enough to hire me as the manager. But I suspect that Paul, who is the only man who has had my back these last few years, had something to do with it.

And speak of the devil. “Amber, are you good? I saw you talking to Max.”

Paul is like a brother to me and the only one in this place who knows what happened to me in the past because he was there. He helped me escape the nightmare of my childhood. I look at him with a soft smile, placing my hand on his forearm. “You worry too much about me. I’m okay. He was just being creepy like normal.”

He nods but doesn’t say much. He never does. But I know that he put Max on his list, the one he keeps for all the people who wronged him or those he cares about. When I see him settled at his post as a bouncer at the door, I return to stocking the bar shelves, getting ready for the night.

Usually, Tuesday nights are slow, so I only put Mike on the bar with me as a backup. Happy Hour will be our busiest time today. I’m hoping to take advantage and get some paperwork done.

While I finish stocking shelves, a tall dark-haired man comes in. He looks good but has an air about him. Eyes that are a deep brown but no light behind them. He stands tall in his fitted suit and has a confident swagger about him that screams danger. I’ve had enough of those in my life.

Putting on my customer service face, I greet him. “Welcome. Feel free to find a seat anywhere and I’ll be over to grab your drink order.”

The man takes my cue without muttering a word and heads toward the booth that’s in the back corner of the room. I watch him as he takes in his surroundings, checking to see where all the possible escape routes, hiding places, and bad guys could be. Seriously, the man looks like he’s an FBI agent or an armed robber. Once he’s seated, I relax a tiny bit.

I turn back when the phone rings. “The Tower, Amber speaking.”

“Amber, it's Mike. I’m so sorry but I won’t be able to make it in today. I’m sick.”

I glance up at the clock, and of course, he calls an hour before his shift starts. “Sorry to hear that, Mike. Hope you feel better.”

“Shit,” I curse under my breath.

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