Page 8 of Ruthless Bonds

I trailed my fingers over the baseball bat wehad mounted behind the counter, out of sight from customers. We called the bat Harley, because it was an exact replica of Harley Quinn’s bat. About once a month some pervert got too bold or tried to skip out on his tab, and they were promptly introduced to Harley.

Knowing the bat was within reach calmed my nerves. If this guy got out of hand, I would handle him.

I wiped the counter down and made my way back over to Margot and Mira, keeping one eye on the shady customer still barking into his phone.

“This guy is giving me weird vibes,” I whispered as I refilled their drinks.

“Who?” Margot asked just as Mira muttered, “Oh, God, here we go.”

“The guy behind me in the expensive suit.” I nodded over my shoulder.

“Don’t encourage her.” Mira shook her head. “You know Little Miss ‘I Don’t Trust No Man’ over here is just paranoid.”

I huffed and narrowed my eyes at her. “I am not paranoid.”

“Oh, really? What about that time you calledUnsolved Mysteriesbecause you swore that guy was a serial killer?”

“They had the same tattoos,” I muttered.

“I’m pretty sure every guy in the nineties had those nautical stars tattooed on their elbows.” She looked over my shoulder at the man. The smile on her face dropped instantly. “Oh, shit.”

My eyes widened at her tone, and I chanced a glance over my shoulder at him. He was dipping a napkin into his shot glass and dabbing his knuckles with it.

“No, don’t look at him.” Mira slapped my hand, and I turned back around.

“You know him?”

“I’ve seen him around Mayhem. You see that tattoo on his wrist? The wolf with the Z? He’s Russian mafia. Zokrov Bratva to be exact. Dangerous bastards.” She tapped her fingers against her drink, and I filled it up for her.

“How do you know that?” Margot leaned forward, trying to get a look at the guy.

“Technically, I work for his boss, Kreos Zokrov, who owns Mayhem. Hell, he practically owns half of New York.” Mira shook her head and took a sip of her drink. “He’s a lunatic. Sexy as hell, but crazy. If you ever see anyone with that tattoo, you run the other way.”

The man stood then, tossing a pile of bills on the table. We all held our breath as he passed by, not sparing us another glance.

Mira liked to joke I didn’t trust men, but in reality, I hardly trusted anyone, man or woman. Except my close friends. I had learned long ago that most people were only looking out for themselves, and if you showed any type of weakness, they would eat you up and spit you out.

The girls stayed for another round of drinks and then headed out. My shift ended an hour later, close to two in the morning. Drake offered to walk me to my car, but I flashed my keys, gripped between my knuckles, and he sent me on my way.

The parking lot was nearly empty as I made my way to my beat-up old Buick. I tossed my bag onto the passenger seat, my car humming to life. I wanted nothing more than to go home and crawl into bed. Butthe full moon tonight offered the perfect lighting to capture photos. Since the contest theme was mortality, I couldn’t think of a better place to get some shots than the cemetery.

A noise caught my attention, and I lowered the volume on the radio.

Something was off.

The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and my eyes darted to the rearview mirror. The backseat appeared empty.

Goosebumps erupted over my skin, and I slowly slid my hand down my calf and reached for my switchblade in my boot.

“You have five seconds to get the fuck out of my car,” I whispered into the darkness. In that moment, I hoped—no, I prayed—nobody would answer me.

But my instincts had been right.

My eyes widened as a shadowy figure moved into my peripheral.

I gasped, ready to scream and attack, but before I could do anything, a large hand clamped over my mouth from behind.

My goosebumps were never wrong.

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