Page 68 of PortCity Killers

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The next order of business with Vosco had been even more irritating than the first. I’d been informed that he would be keeping a standing IOU. I couldn’t figure what was worse: that he had pulled that shit or that Bryce had gone along with it.

I didn’t like owing people ever, and he knew that. Been there, done that, and I burned every fucking T-shirt. Now he wanted me to sit on an IOU?

“Careful, you’ll run a hole through the bar.”

I shot Laylah a look which, to her credit, she stood steadfastly against, her bright eyes still glowing like nothing could bring down her night. It was utterly despicable. Her blonde hair trickled out of its once tightly held ponytail as she stood in front of me on the other side of the counter, with the face of an angel.

It only made me want to fuss it up, maybe slug her a good one, but then I immediately felt bad about it which only served to anger me more.

“Wanna talk about it?” she asked.

I lifted my rag off of the bar top that I had evidently been running a hole through with a sigh. Lorenzo shifted in his seat at the end of the bar, trying his damnedest to keep me in his line of sight without making me uncomfortable since I had already given him an earful.

I might have brought up the words “pervert” and “peeping tom,” but I couldn’t truly remember. Since then, he had made himself scarce. Whether because he feared my wrath or the Giovenni’s I didn’t know, but a part of me was soothed to think it was my fire and brimstone that put him in his place.

I took the tray from Laylah, emptying all the drinks off of it with a scoff, “Not really.”

She looked over to the big man, nodding subtly, “He your new keeper?”

I shrugged, because really, I didn’t know how long Don and Valentina would keep him on me, and I didn’t really want to open that particular can of worms, so I was doing what I liked to do with problems that didn’t seem to have an immediate solution: ruminate and then sweep it under the rug when I couldn’t come up with a good enough way out of it.

I checked my phone again, thankful that Bryce hadn’t decided to take it from me in case I did, in fact, drive myself crazy by looking at it every seven seconds only to be doubly disappointed when there were no notifications from sheer will alone, as he had said.

Between all the men in my life, old and new, I was having an emotional field day. Lorenzo was not making things any easier with his side eye every time I picked up the damn phone, and it was making me self-conscious as shit.

Mood still sour, I busied myself, wondering if I would be able to successfully dodge him after work the way Bryce had this morning for our meeting. He’d moved like a predator: fluid and with purpose. We’d made our way out a side entrance I hadn’t even known they had and fell in line with the morning pedestrians like clockwork.

I had never had a reason to see Bryce at work, not after he started undercover work and certainly never after he’d left to work full time for Vosco. Seeing him in his element was a little more than I had been ready for.

A little more than my panties had been ready for, really. But I was mad at him and rightfully so. I groaned, considering taking Laylah to the back and blabbing it all to her. Despite her many attempts we had never been more than coworkers.

Now, part of me was kicking myself in the foot for not at least trying to make friends in the years I had been in PortCity. What did one do when all their potential lovers were off chopping people’s heads and throwing them in the ocean? How do you make friends after that conversation?

I busied myself with the lunch rush, taking orders and covering for one of the new girl’s shifts while Laylah manned the bar. You wouldn’t think that people would be getting rowdy on a Thursday afternoon, but you would be very, very wrong.

Thursday and Friday afternoons in PortCity were just as bad as Friday and Saturday game nights. The people were loud; we made them drunk, and they showed their asses until you kicked them out.

Surprisingly the best place to be was the floor, since so many people went straight for the bar, which meant Laylah and I switched places.

It seemed though, that the universe was here to kick a bitch. For what, I didn’t know. But when I passed a particularly randy table, one man thought it best to grab my attention by hooking his fingers through my fucking belt loop. The drinks on my tray sloshed over as I was dragged back to the man, nearly falling in his lap.

I slammed the tray down, knocking over their own drinks in their lap. The men jumped up dodging the beers as they fell.

I ripped my body away from the fucker who’d held my loop with a gruff, “Fuck off.”

The man let go, shouting obscenities just as Lorenzo stepped in front of me, but I wasn’t having any of it.

I shoved the big man aside, or tried to for what it was worth, leaning right in the other fucker’s face, “Get the fuck out of my bar.”

He laughed, straight up fucking cackled, “Chill out, girlie-”

I couldn't be held accountable for my actions even if I had wanted to be, and it felt glorious until the sickening crunch of my tray across his face made my stomach roil, but I kept my eyes focused on his as I repeated myself, “I said get the fuck out of my bar.”

The man stood blood pouring down his tattered white button down. Lorenzo didn’t even pretend to let me stay in charge, he just stepped further between us, his ginormous hand settling on the other man’s shoulder.

“Out.”

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