Page 89 of Four Seconds to Lose

I dive for that doorway to wedge myself in. “What happened? I assume it involves Penny’s?”

After a pause, “Yeah.” He leans down onto the counter and I don’t hesitate to reach forward and begin rubbing the muscles in his back, knowing that his body is tense again. I’ve noticed that the longer he’s away from the club, the more he relaxes. “China and Kinsley were at it again last night, fighting over a customer like two alley cats.” He shakes his head. “China threw a drink at Kinsley that accidently hit a customer. Now the guy’s threatening to sue.”

“Shit,” I groan, silently piecing together the conversation. “What does that mean? You’re firing China?”

He scowls. “No... Kinsley.” His eyes drift off toward the window.

Wow. I don’t doubt that Kinsley is at least half-deserving, but... even with China physically abusing customers and putting his business at risk, he won’t fire her?

His bottom lip pulls into his teeth. “I’m really starting to hate that place.”

I lean in to press my lips against his shoulder, wishing I could help him somehow. “But you can’t walk away from it.”

“But I can’t walk away from it,” he repeats with a slow nod, more to himself. Breathing in deeply through his nostrils, he mutters, “I hate firing people.”

“Want me to do it?” I offer casually, letting one hand settle against his chest while I gently run my index finger of the other hand down his spine. “I can pretend to be a mean-ass bitch boss for you.”

I get a weak chuckle, but I’ll take it. After a pause, he turns to look down at me. “I was serious about that management job, when I offered it to you. You want it?”

“I don’t know, seeing as...” Should I be accepting this, given the situation? Or, the situations. Not only am I leading this secret life that will force me out of Miami eventually, now I’m having ridiculously hot sex with the owner of the club. A lot of it. And he clearly intends to have a lot more, based on the scandalous shopping list he’s preparing for what I picture is a sweet old lady.

And better not be a hot young tramp in a French maid outfit.

I’ll ask him about that later.

“Well, you’ve been giving me blow jobs every night before the club opens for weeks, so I don’t see what the problem is,” he teases dryly. And those rumors will likely become reality... “You’re not going on the stage anymore, so it works out well for both of us. In fact,” he says, suddenly standing up straight and turning to face me, “I don’t want you behind the bar, either.”

I frown at him, trying to figure out if he’s joking.

Cain heaves an exasperated sigh. “Just because we haven’t talked about that fucking asshole the other night doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten about him, Charlie.”

I avert my eyes but feel Cain’s harsh gaze still on me. “I’m trying to respect your privacy and give you the chance to tell me about it when you’re ready. That doesn’t mean I won’t do whatever I have to do to keep you safe.”

Panic stirs as my brain processes his words. What does that mean? Swallowing the small scream in my throat, I ask in a decidedly shaky voice, “What did you do to him?”

Cain studies me—more likely, my reaction—for a long moment. “Made sure he knows never to lay a hand on you again.”

“That’s a little vague.” It frightens the hell out of me. The last thing I need is a face-off with a vengeful Bob at a drop. If I do another drop. “Did you threaten him?”

He pauses as if deciding whether to answer me or not. “Nate can be an intimidating guy.”

Something tells me there’s more to this story. “What if he comes back and hurts you?” I’d die if anything ever happened to Cain or Nate because of me.

Cain’s soft chuckle only increases my anxiety. “Don’t worry about me, sweetheart. It takes a lot to knock me down.”

I set my forehead against the bar. Fantastic. Cain has a Superman complex. And now I know for certain that Cain can’t ever know anything about Sam. I can’t have him and Nate tossing around threats if Sam were ever to show up unexpected.

Because Sam wouldn’t bother trying to knock down Superman. He’d simply kill him.

“So?” Cain waits expectantly, though his tone has softened. “The job?”

“Can you afford me?”

“Oh?” He rolls on his elbows to face me, his smirk widening. “What’s the going rate again?”

“A thousand an hour is what some are willing to pay.”

“Right.” Cain starts to laugh. “You’re going to rob me blind, aren’t you?”

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