Page 4 of Bad Business

“I’m sorry to bother you at work, Miss Rivers, but Juniper is running a pretty high fever. I’ve tried Tylenol, but it’s not helping. I didn’t know what else to do.”

“Don’t apologize. Calling me was the right thing to do. I’ll be home in half an hour.” I disconnect and shove the device back into my dress. “Calli, I need to leave. Will you be okay on your own?”

Calli, the bar manager, smiles at me. “Of course. Everything alright?”

“Juniper is sick. I need to go see if I should take her to the emergency room. As long as she’s okay, I’ll be back tomorrow.”

“Sure thing. Make sure you let Dallas know you’re leaving. You go take care of that precious girl.” Calli and I hit it off when I first started here. She’s the only one who knows I have a child to take care of—what she doesn’t know is that Juniper is my niece. It’s easier to let her think she’s mine, so she doesn’t ask too many questions.

Gritting my teeth, I scan the room, looking for Dallas. He’s no longer on the floor, which means he’s holed up in his office. “I’ll go tell him now.”

Navigating the crowd, I take the stairs up to the second floor. This area is designated for staff only, which is a relief. It means I don’t need to worry about running into any of the patrons having sex. I wasn’t a prude, but I didn’t think having sex in the open was something people should do. Hell, I avoided the back area of the club as much as possible. Seeing someone strapped to a cross was not my idea of a good time.

The second floor is a maze of dark corridors, the walls painted in deep burgundy, punctuated by occasional sconces casting a dim, warm glow that matches the rest of the club. The faint hum of conversations and distant music filters through the walls, creating an eerie, almost surreal atmosphere.

Stopping outside Dallas’s office, I tap the wood with my knuckles.

“Enter.” His deep voice is muffled through the wood.

Taking a deep breath, I push open his door and step inside. His office is a stark contrast to the dim corridors, lit with modern fixtures. The walls are lined with sleek bookshelves filled with an array of leather-bound books. A large mahogany desk dominates the center of the room, papers neatly arranged in perfect order. Dallas sits behind it, his expression stern as he looks up at me.

“I’m sorry to bother you, but I have a personal emergency, and I need to leave. Calli is aware and said she can handle the crowd tonight.”

“You’re leaving?” He pushes to his feet and saunters toward me, glancing at his watch. “It’s not even nine. You know damn well the crowd will pick up in the next hour or so.”

“Yeah, and that doesn’t change the fact I need to go.” I tap my foot in frustration. “All I’m doing is telling you I’m leaving for the night. I should be back tomorrow.”

“What’s so important that you can’t have someone else handle things for you?”

“My personal life is none of your business.” I step back, slowly edging toward the door. The space between us feels charged, and his presence overwhelms the confined office.

He shakes his head. “You can’t leave. I won't permit you to leave mid-shift.”

Snorting at the ridiculousness of this man, I reply, “Well, then I quit.” I spin on my heel, rush from the confines of his office, and hurry down the stairs. Tossing a wave at Calli, I hurry out the door and beeline to my car.

The night air is cool against my skin, a glaring contrast to the club’s stuffy interior. The parking lot is nearly full as cars line up in neat rows under the flickering lights. I quickly find my car and slide behind the wheel, the familiar scent of leather and my favorite air freshener bringing a brief sense of comfort to my racing heart.

It takes me exactly fifteen minutes to get to my tiny house from work, and as I pull into the driveway, I breathe a sigh of relief. My house is small but cozy, nestled in a quiet neighborhood. It's unassuming, giving Juniper and me a sense of security we desperately crave.

Unlocking the front door, I slip inside and toss my keys down on the entry table. The house is quiet, save for the gentle hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen.

“Kara?” I call out as I make my way down the hallway, the soft glow of the nightlights illuminating my path. When I reach Juniper’s room, I find Kara inside, rocking her in the cozy corner chair.

“Willow.” She smiles warmly. “Her fever finally came down. I’m sorry I jumped the gun and called you. I panicked when I read the thermometer.”

“It’s okay. Juniper always comes first, Kara. I’m glad you called me. Has she been complaining of anything?”

“Her throat. I gave her some honey with lemon water and children’s Tylenol. Her fever was 103, but it’s down to a hundred now.”

“I’ll call the doctor in the morning.” Slipping the sleeping toddler from Kara’s arms, I hold her gently against my chest, feeling the steady rhythm of her breathing. “You can head out. I’m home for the night now.”

Kara stretches her arms above her head, her exhaustion evident. “Well, if you need me at any point, call me. I’m just down the street.” She presses a soft kiss to Juniper’s head. “See you later, June bug.”

I carry Juniper out into the living room and sit down with her cradled in my arms. The living room is cozy, with a large overstuffed couch. Framed photos of Lark and Juniper decorate the mantel above the fireplace, each capturing a moment of happiness and love. Juniper is a few months shy of turning three—a milestone her mother won’t get to see. She doesn’t understand why her mother isn’t here, and at night, it’s the hardest for her. More often than not, she winds up in my bed with me after waking up and crying out for Lark.

I wish I could take away her pain, but my heart is broken, too. I closed down my practice, packed up what little I could, and left everything I knew behind. Sitting with her in my arms, I push down the resentment and remind myself it isn’t her fault. Placing her gently down on the sofa, I pad the floor with the couch pillows, creating a soft barrier around her.

I rush into my room, quickly disrobing and throwing on a T-shirt and athletic shorts. When I get back into the living room, I scoop her up and plop down with her cradled against me. Her body radiates heat, but I don’t put her down. Instead, I lean back against the couch and let my eyes drift shut. The steady beat of her heart against mine is a soothing lullaby. The day begins to lift, replaced by the simple, profound love I have for this little girl.

---