Cold Dark Heart by Julie Kriss
Sixteen
Andie
The storeroomat the Wild was in a back corner, down the hall from the office, in an awkward, cramped space with a single overhead light. We kept cases of booze in there, as well as other bar-type things like napkins, straws, cleaning supplies, and fresh lemons and limes. The Wild didn’t serve food of any kind—even those damned annoying peanuts that some bars give out so people can make an unholy mess with the shells. The building didn’t even have a kitchen. It was a bar where you went for just one purpose: to get drunk. I had to admit, it made the business easier to run.
I had figured out where we ordered napkins from, and I didn’t know if we needed more. I got up from my desk and walked down the hall to the storeroom, my keys in my hand. The door was already open, the single light inside turned on. I peeked in to see Damon in there.
He was standing in the middle of the room, his head tilted back as he looked up at a top shelf. There was a brief second before he noticed me, and I took him in. In the three weeks since he’d first come through the door of the Wild, he had changed in subtle ways. He wasn’t as painfully thin, and his body was solid and vital. He was less pale, his cheekbones less drawn. He’d had a barber trim his beard close to his jawline, and he’d had a haircut too, though he still wore it just long enough for the bad-boy look. He wasn’t wearing his jacket, and I could see the octopus tattoo on his biceps beneath the sleeve of his tee.
I felt a mix of things when I looked at him: lust, uncertainty, tentative liking that grew stronger every day, fear, more lust. Did I mention lust?
I wasn’t used to being hot for a man—not just distantly admiring, but hot. And I was hot for Damon Blake. The fact that I could admit that to myself at all meant that something was changing in me—something I didn’t understand, but was starting to like. A lot. It was fun to be in lust with a hot guy I worked with, fun to have an excuse to spend time with him every day, fun to take him on appointments with me so he could be his scary self. I hadn’t allowed myself to have fun since—well, I could barely remember the last time I’d had fun. This was a quiet kind of fun that I got to enjoy without hurting anyone.
I wasn’t sure how he felt about me. Damon didn’t seem to mind spending time with me, but he was hard to read. Since those first few times we’d argued, he’d seemed to be careful with me. He didn’t start any more fights. He also didn’t make a move.
Did I want him to? Part of me—the newer, sexier part—did want him to, but the thought was also terrifying. If Damon actually tried anything with me, I’d probably freeze up in a silent freakout. That was the reality, not the fantasy.
I cleared my throat. “Hey,” I said.
Damon turned, looking at me. “Oh. Hey.”
I stepped into the storeroom. “What’s so fascinating in here?”
“I was looking for a spot to put the security sensor.”
I followed his gaze upward to where the wall met the ceiling. “I thought we were putting in cameras?”
Damon shook his head. “The wireless signal doesn’t work in here, so cameras are out unless we re-wire the entire hallway. But a simple sensor will track when the door opens and closes. It’s easier to do. That isn’t what I was looking at, though.” He pointed to the top shelf. “There’s a crate of Sheffer whiskey up there.”
I followed where he was pointing. “Okay.”
“There’s another crate of the same thing behind it. And there are three bottles of Sheffer behind the bar right now.”
I frowned. That was a lot of whiskey. After three weeks, I knew how much we went through on average. I stood closer to Damon, peering up. “I didn’t order any extra.” I hadn’t talked to Dave, the creep from Sheffer Whiskey, since our meeting three weeks ago. I wasn’t eager to talk to him. I also hadn’t sent him any money on our owed invoices yet, so it was odd that we somehow had more supply that we hadn’t paid for.
“I figured you didn’t. I’ll ask the staff if they know where this came from and when. Once we have the sensors in here, we’ll know who has been in and out.”
“Okay,” I said. “If Dave thinks he’s getting paid anytime soon for that extra case, he’s dreaming. It’ll take us two months to get through all of that.”
Damon looked at me. “Was there something you came in here for?”
Oh. Right. “I figured out the ordering system for our napkin supplier. Do we need any?”
We spent fifteen minutes searching the shelves for cocktail napkins, only to find that we were almost out. I had figured out how to order more just in time. “I can’t believe Terry ran this business even for a day,” Damon grumbled. “He sucks at being an entrepreneur.”
“Well, it isn’t his business anymore,” I replied, re-shelving the last package of napkins. “It’s mine.”
“I thought it was already yours,” he said. “You’re the only one running it.”
“It’s mine on paper, though. Officially.” I felt a flush of accomplishment, mixed with a weird combination of terror and shame, as I said the next words. “My divorce from Terry is final. The papers are all signed. He signed this place over to me, so it’s officially mine now. He has no claim on it anymore.”
Damon’s gaze rested on me for a long moment, and I couldn’t read his expression. “Congratulations,” he said, his voice low.
“Thanks.” My cheeks flushed hot, like they sometimes did around him. “This means I’m a new woman, right?”
“Sure.” He smiled a little. “I’d say we celebrate with a drink, but neither of us drink. At least, not anything good.”
I nodded. “Right, yes. I mean, no. We don’t drink.”
His gaze hadn’t moved from me, and it was making my blood rush hotter. “You know why I don’t drink,” he said. “But you never told me why you don’t.”
“I just don’t like it.” It was true. Terry and I had been tipsy the night I’d conceived Miles, and then when I was pregnant, I couldn’t drink. After that, I found I just didn’t like to lose control the way you could when you were drunk. My life was already out of control enough. I wanted to feel like I was doing my best to steer the ship.
I still had no desire to drink, even though I was now the official owner of a bar. But I was changing in other ways. Maybe, just this once, I could take a risk.
I thought about Ginny’s advice, and for once, I decided to go for it.
“Can I ask you something?” I said to Damon.
“Sure.”
I braced myself. What would Ginny do in this situation, alone in the storeroom with Hottie Bodyguard? I didn’t feel like starting a fight with him, so I decided on option two.
“Would you, um…” I forced the words out. “Would you teach me self defense?”
There was a moment of silence, and then Damon frowned, confused. “You want to learn self defense?”
“Yes. You know, a few moves. Just in case.” I wouldn’t let myself sound lame. I’d sound confident instead. I held my chin up. “I’d like to know how to defend myself.”
He seemed to think it over, and then he nodded. My heart sped up. “Sure,” he said. “I can teach you self defense.”
Was this actually working? “Thanks. Do you want to do it here or—”
“Here’s your self defense lesson, Andie,” Damon said before I could spit out the rest. “Run.”
I stared at him, confused. “What?”
He shook his head. “The best method of self defense is always to get yourself out of the situation. Don’t engage. The other person could be stronger than you, or could be mentally unbalanced, or could be armed. He could be on something. There’s nothing I hate more than the way self defense classes market themselves as a way to fight off an attacker. As a cop, I’m giving you the advice that is most likely to actually save your life. If anything happens, escape any way you possibly can.” He nodded at my stunned expression, oblivious to the fact that he’d just lectured his way out of my making a pass at him. “I’m gonna go shop for sensors. I’ll see you later.”
* * *
I wasin my office ten minutes later when my phone rang. It was my dad.
“What the hell is wrong with that guy you hired?” he said when I answered.
“I don’t know.” I bit the words out. I was embarrassed and frustrated and still a little bit horny. “He’s a jerk.” An oblivious one. Jesus, how stupid could one man be?
“He’s nosy is what he is,” my dad said. “I got a call from one of my old colleagues. Your new guy, this DEA guy I looked up—he’s been trying to do some background checks of his own. On your other employees.”
“I know.” Damon had already told me he was going to try this. “What does he want?”
“He’s asking questions about some of Terry’s employees, the ones that don’t work there anymore. Some other stuff, too. The Salt Springs PD told him to go pound sand, since he isn’t law enforcement anymore. But something tells me he’ll find another way to get the information he wants. I thought you hired him to bounce drunks and put in a security system.”
“He’s doing those things, too,” I said, defensive.
“Yeah, well, he isn’t making any friends in this town. Keep an eye on him, Andie. You don’t have a business brain, and you don’t know much about hiring people. He could be up to something and you wouldn’t know. He could outsmart you.”
“Gee, thanks, Dad.” I had no idea why his comments still stung. I’d been hearing them all my life. He means well. That was always the excuse with my dad, the reason to keep putting up with him. He means well. And he doesn’t talk to Miles like this.
When he was with Miles, my impossible-to-please father became a fawning grandfather, convinced his grandson was destined to be the greatest at everything he tried. Have you seen him play soccer? What a kick he has. Low marks on a math test? There’s something wrong with that teacher. With Terry’s complete failure as a father, Miles needed all of the unconditional love he could get. So I put up with Dad, I never fought with him, and I let him see Miles as often as he wanted.
Miles and I had been on shaky ground for weeks now. I’d reamed him about stealing the cigarettes from my purse, which he’d at first denied and then admitted. Then I’d had to deal with the fact that his marks were sinking. There had been meetings with teachers, sulky refusals to eat dinners, and slammed bedroom doors—his, not mine. I was still the adult in this situation, at least for now.
We had an uneasy truce, but he didn’t trust me. He didn’t seek me out or tell me anything. My father thought I was stupid and my son thought I was evil, but the two of them got along just fine. It was me that no one gave a shit about anymore.
“Damon is not up to something,” I said to my dad. “He’s doing his job. And he’s a big help around here.”
“Maybe you should call Terry and ask what he thinks.”
Was he kidding? “You hate Terry!” I said, sounding like a crazy woman for the first time in this conversation.
“Hate is a strong word,” Dad said, as if I hadn’t had to listen to his opinion of Terry for thirteen years. “He knows this Blake guy, and he used to run the Wild. He might know what you should do.”
Of course. Even the dirtbag my father despised, who had left me for his girlfriend, must be better at this than me. “I am not asking Terry,” I snapped. Terry had already told me to fire Damon, which made me more determined than ever to keep Damon employed. “Terry is gone. We’re officially divorced, and the bar is officially mine. He has nothing to do with this.”
“Jesus, you’re so touchy,” my father complained. “I’m just making a suggestion. I’m just trying to help. You don’t even appreciate it.”
I thought of Miles. I thought of how much he loved his grandfather and how much he needed him right now. “I have to go,” I gritted out, though the words made my jaw hurt.
I hung up feeling more tired and more raw than I could remember feeling, even the day Terry left. I was sick of men. I was like a battery that has been drained dry, emptied of everything while I gave and gave to other people. I wanted someone to bring me a hot meal and give me a shoulder rub. And then give me an orgasm, especially if that person was Damon. But right now, that possibility was so remote there was no point even picturing it.
I was a mother, a daughter, an ex-wife, and a business owner. That was all. Apparently I was so out of practice being an actual woman that men didn’t even notice when I was trying to seduce them.
Yeah. This was going really, really well.