Page 21 of Grind
That’s half the problem, isn’t it? I sleep all day because I’m up most nights, chasing rich drunks around an upscale club while they grind it out to feel alive.
Keep their hands to themselves, their noses clean, and the dollars flowing along with the booze and the music.
Not a bad gig if you can get it.
Drive my sports car back to my comfortable loft and sleep the day away without a care in the world.
And why is that suddenly a fucking problem?
There’s no shame in an honest job. I’m proud to bring in big money for my family. Intrigue is half of what keeps our family clean, and means we don’t have to deal in things we don’t want to. Gives me a good life. I’m fucking proud to be a Doyle. That’s enough.
It’s always been enough, except for when it suddenly isn’t.
But now?
Let’s just say Ava’s got me thinking. Not just about the work she does to make the world a better place. But also about the way my father always gives back our community, takes care of the neighborhood, takes care of our people.
Who’s going to carry that legacy forward? Seamus’s nose is buried in paperwork. Ronan, who becomes the head of the Doyle interests when my father’s not there, is too much of a hardass. Kieran gets into the real gritty shit, but he’s got a poetic Irish soul if ever I’ve seen one. Owen’s carrying on my dad’s legacy as a fighter and an entrepreneur, but in his own, different way.
Maybe I’m seeing a place where I could step up. Step in. Have a bigger impact beyond just my work at the club.
I give my head a sharp shake. Now’s not the time to sort this out. Right now, I’ve got something else to face. Doyles aren’t cowards, and I’m going in there, no matter how much it makes me ask tough questions about my future. About our future?
Inside, a small grim waiting area features a sign asking people to take a seat. No receptionist. Sinking into an aging chair that creaks under my weight, I catch sight of Ava.
She’s sitting close to a middle-aged woman, who has a small child clinging to her in pure terror. They’re bent head to head over paperwork. Ava’s voice murmurs reassuringly for several minutes and she seems to answer questions. I can see the other woman becoming calmer and more relaxed. Finally, the woman signs and Ava stands to escort her out.
Her whole body reacts when she sees me. Her beautiful green eyes goes wide and she pauses mid-step, before smoothly resuming walking the client out.
“Thank you again for coming, Mrs. Rubio,” Ava says to the older woman, as she hands her a cheap-looking business card. “My cell phone number and the clinic’s emergency number are on this card. I’ll call you as soon as we have some news.”
She’s commanding every ounce of this woman’s attention, and tiny Mrs. Rubio reaches out to clasp her arm. “Thank you. Thank you so much for helping keep me and my boy safe.”
The woman turns to go, and then she freezes when she sees me. I don’t blame her. It’s not like I belong here.
Giving her my best neutral smile, I wait as Ava shows her out the door and turns the flimsy lock on the small office door behind her before turning back to me.
A dark dress hugs her curves and her hair is down, hints of auburn catching the light. She looks absolutely gorgeous, powerful, and focused. Damn. A heavy feeling settles in my groin and I shift as my cock becomes steel.
Jesus.
If I thought Ava was sexy before? Smart, in-charge, all business Ava just rocketed into the stratosphere.
“You came,” she says with a warm smile, coming to stop next to my chair. I push to my feet to greet her, and suddenly I realize we’re very close. The heat rolls off her body in waves, and my hand’s just moving toward her when a voice comes from a hallway I didn’t see.
“Ava?” a woman’s deep voice calls. “Great work on the Anderson case. I just received an email; Mrs. Anderson got the order of protection, and the courts agreed…”
A small, dark-skinned woman in a stylish suit rounds the corner, flipping through a stack of files. She looks up and stops short when she sees us. I hold my ground but Ava steps back, dropping her hands and smiling brightly.
“Excellent, Ruth,” she responds in a strong, professional voice. “I just finished up with Joan Rubio, and have everything I need there. I’ll need an hour or so to finalize the paperwork, and can drop that off here to be processed by the end of the week. Is there anything else you need?”
Squaring this very confident, very competent woman with the softer Ava that I’ve seen takes a minute. But the picture of her in my mind rearranges fast. She doesn’t just have the potential to do great things. She’s doing them right now – even when it’s inconvenient, even when it’s hard, even when she’s got every reason not to.
Shit.
Ruth’s eyes are still boring into mine, and there’s a hint of mistrust there. “And this is?”
Ava quickly looks between us, and I think she’d rather not have introduced us. For some reason, that pisses me off. I stand up straighter and my shoulders go back. There’s nothing to be ashamed of with me.
