chapter 2: the encounter

​I stepped into the bar with a singular, cold focus. Two things. That was it. I wanted the money that was owed to me, and then I wanted to go home, drown my head in whiskey, and find a wet pussy to help me forget the day.

​I moved toward the counter, my boots heavy against the floorboards. There was a girl there, draped in scraps of fabric that barely passed for clothes. Before I was even close, she was pinning me with her stare, her eyes crawling over me with a hunger I had no interest in feeding.

​Where is your ass of a boss? I asked. My voice was low, a warning she chose to ignore.

​She let her gaze travel from my boots to my face, slow and suggestive. When she spoke, her voice was a grating honey. Hi, handsome. I’m Jane. What if I make your night at our bar… worth remembering?

​The irritation in my chest turned into a slow boil. She wasn't even worth the effort of a hookup, yet here she was, acting like she had something I wanted. I felt the itch in my palm. My hand moved to my waist, fingers wrapping around the cold, familiar grip of my piece.

​I drew the gun and the sound of it leveling against the air was a death knell.

​I said, I leaned in, my voice a jagged edge, get me your fucking boss. Now.

​She began to tremble not just a shiver, but a hard, rhythmic vibration of pure terror. The room died. The music, the clinking of glasses, the chatter it all vanished, replaced by the heavy, thick sound of people holding their breath.

​Then, I saw her.

​She was tucked away in the shadows of the kitchen hallway, nearly invisible. She was small, drowning in an oversized hoodie that made no sense in the stifling heat of the room. She was frozen, a statue of pure shock, her eyes locked on the weapon in my hand.

​Everything in me stalled.

​She didn't belong in a place like this. Her face was a map of innocence I hadn't seen in years. When she blinked, her lashes brushed against skin so fair it seemed to glow under the dim yellow lights. Her lips were a perfect, soft oval, and her blonde hair caught the light like something sacred.

​An angel.

​I felt the sudden, traitorous shift in my jeans. A slow, heavy heat coiled in my gut, pulling tight. I was half hard in seconds, and the realization pissed me off. I didn’t do innocent. I liked them experienced women who knew how to move and didn't need their hands held.

​I forced my eyes away, snapping a sharp signal to one of my boys. I didn't have time for this. I didn't have time for her. I was here for the cash that had been missing for three months, and I wasn't leaving without it.Jax emerged from the shadows of the back hallway, his hand knotted in the collar of a man who looked like he’d already given up on living. He dragged the miserable idiot toward the center of the room, the man’s boots scuffing uselessly against the grime-slicked floor. I moved to meet them halfway, my own pace slow, predatory, and certain.

​The moment we collided, I didn't waste breath on words. I swung.

​My fist connected with his cheek with a wet, heavy thud. The impact vibrated up my arm, a familiar jolt of adrenaline that usually settled my nerves. But today, my nerves were frayed.

​I thought I made myself clear the last time,I said, my voice dropping into a low, dangerous register that seemed to vibrate the very glass bottles on the back bar. Where is my damn money?

​The silence in the room was absolute. It was the kind of silence that pressed against your eardrums. Every patron sat frozen, their eyes wide and reflecting the jagged violence. I could feel the bar attendants’ gazes fear mixed with a sick kind of fascination as they watched the blood begin to bead on their boss’s split lip.

​But then, I felt her.

​The innocent girl in the oversized hoodie was still there, tucked against the kitchen doorframe. Her facial expression a mix of raw terror and a strange, heartbreaking pity hit me like a physical blow. It nearly knocked me off my guard. For a second, the air in my lungs felt thin.

​Focus, Kane. Don't look at her.

​I turned back to the wreckage in front of me. I reached out, my fingers tangling in the sweat soaked, grease-stained fabric of his shirt. With one heave, I slammed him against the wood paneled wall. The sound was hollow and loud. I leaned into his space, smelling the sour stench of his fear, and delivered a second punch. It was sharp. Controlled. A gut-shot meant to fold him in half.

​I didn't want to break his ribs not yet. I wanted to steal the air from his lungs. I wanted him to feel exactly how he’d been suffocating me, dragging out my payment for three agonizing months.

​Elias slumped against the wood, a pathetic sound escaping his throat as he fought for oxygen. I didn't feel a flicker of pity. I felt heard.

​I stepped over his shaking form and walked behind the bar. The floorboards groaned under my boots. I reached for the register, the metallic ding of the drawer opening sounding like a gunshot in the quiet. I took my time. I let the crinkle of the paper bills fill the air as I counted them out, one by one.

​

i'm taking two grand, I announced to the room, though I was looking only at the man on the floor. I tucked the thick wad of cash deep into the pocket of my leather vest, the weight of it a small comfort.

​I leaned over the bar, my shadow falling over him. I’ll be back next Tuesday for the rest. If you don't have it by then, I’m not coming for the paper. I’m taking the keys to this entire shithole. Do you understand me, dumbass?

​Elias couldn't answer; he could only groan, his hand clutching a jaw that likely felt like shattered glass.

​I straightened up and threw a sharp nod to my boys. Let's get the hell out of this God forsaken place.