Page 59 of Shadows of Justice

“Wait, you used to be a cheerleader?” I ask Sugar skeptically. Sugar smiles, running her tongue over her yellow, chipped teeth.

“Used to be as pearly white as yours, Baconator,” she says quietly, winking at me.

I regard Sugar for a moment, completely in shock over her claim. I picture her ten years younger, with less make up and junkie scars marring her features. Without the crazed, drug-induced electricity in her blue eyes, yes, I could picture her as a young college student, her whole life ahead of her. It’s a hard image to conjure with her hands cupping the tits of the stripper in her lap, but I suppose I can see it.

Something akin to sadness pangs in my chest on her behalf. I wonder if she mourns what could have been, or doesn’t bother wasting the energy. Honestly, she almost seems . . . happy.

The song ends and the stripper robotically peels herself off of Sugar, dips her chin in what I suppose is a thank you, and wanders off to the Hen House. Sugar hoots loudly, shoots two shots back and sighs, relaxing in the chair as though she’s had a long, hard day’s work. Her legs fall wide open, giving the gentlemen at the table in front of ours a nice view up her skirt.

“I was pretty close, but I almost got caught,” I whisper to her. “I need to get back there again. You think you can create a distraction for the Dogs?”

She looks at me sideways. “Not if I want to live. You don’t approach the Dogs. The Dogs approach you, and only if they want to talk to you.” My face falls. Awesome.

She shoots back the last shot on the tray and smacks it down loudly, hissing at the burn.

“But,” she goes on, “the whole inexperienced, doe-eyed thing is working for you. Bull Dog liked you. It’s a good start. Just keep working that, and we should be in business.” She rises, reaching her hand out to me. “Come on, I want to dance.” She pulls me out of my seat so fast I almost topple over.

“Dance?” I ask, fear gripping me again. I don’t dance.

“Yeah! Come on, we’ve gotta get their attention somehow, and it ain’t gonna be from sitting around and waiting.”

Sugar pulls me to the side of the stage where a DJ booth is pumping the music through the club. The speakers light up, making it the brightest place in the room. It also happens to be a stone’s throw away from the VIP area where the figures there still mill about in the smoky gloom. Sugar blows a kiss to the toothless DJ, who waves excitedly at her and then changes the song to something slightly less lethargic.

She grabs me, plastering my back to her front, and starts to move against me. She runs her hands down my arms, a shiver running through me, despite the company. No one else is dancing—not even the dancers, really—and I can feel eyes on us. The whiskey in my veins starts to work, and her hips grinding against me give me a good rhythm to follow. She cups my ass, my boobs, even runs her nails up my scalp. She’s either actually enjoying herself or deserves an Academy Award.

My thoughts flick to Leo and our night together. The splendid bliss of fucking, and the just-as-incredible afterglow, soaking up each other’s intimacies and secrets, each kiss a promise of the next. My blood heats and my gaze rises, finding the camera perched in the corner of the room that’s pointed right at me.

I position Sugar so that I have a clear view of the red dot a few yards away and hand myself over to the music. The beat fills me, my body moving to the mesmerizing rhythm. I don’t take my eyes off the camera, knowing just what it’s doing to my fallen angel. The thought makes me wet, an ache beginning to form between my legs. Maybe he’s in his car, or observing me remotely from right outside these walls. Either way, I know he’s watching me.

And I like it very much when Leo watches me.

I picture him hard, trying to keep his hands off of his throbbing cock as I sway my hips, grinding harder into Sugar and making her moan. I flip my hair, holding the camera’s gaze, imagining it’s Leo’s eyes burning me up from across the room.

I can feel his rough, scarred hands on my skin. I can hear his raspy, praising Spanish in my ear. I can taste his salty sweat on my tongue.

Sugar runs her hands over my breasts and I arch into her touch, imagining it’s Leo gripping my flesh. I could live on this high forever—the high of my vigilante, my savior in the shadows who walks the precarious line between right and wrong. The man that trusts me to take care of myself, but a delicious part of him wants to do it for me, wants to shield me from the world and keep me all for himself. Wants to shield me from me.

Who, when he looks at me, really sees me.

I realize in that moment, with a hooker’s hands caressing my skin and lethal murderers watching from the sidelines, that I’ve fallen for Leo Barone. As naïve as that makes me feel, wondering if I’m a terrible cliche, I still know that—for now—having Leo in my life makes me happy. It makes me want to be a better person.

And so, because of him, after tonight I’ll be the most new and improved Viv that I've ever been.

I’m so caught up in my own daydreaming that I almost don’t notice the rush of cool air that hits my back as Sugar is wrenched away from me. I whirl around and stare up—and up—into the beady eyes of Bull Dog.

My biggest fan.

“Gatita,” he purrs, wrenching me close by gripping the hair at the back of my neck. “The Dogs want to see you—now.”

Chapter Nineteen - Cocaína

Saturday, July 25th

“If any of them touch you—they die.”

The menacing promise rings clear in my earpiece, and I chance a look up at the camera directly over my head. I smile directly into it, letting the warmth in my heart leftover from my earlier thoughts of Leo come fully through in my gaze.

I hope he can feel it all.

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