Page 12

I push faster through the club, and a few people turn to glare when I bump into them, but I keep moving. When I get to the bar, Kirsten is there. She gives me a look and grabs my arm before dragging me toward the stockroom. I peer over my shoulder toward where Gruco was earlier, no longer able to stop myself, but he’s gone.
Gone.
Oh thank fuck.
I let out a huff of air and am finally able to inhale deeply by the time Kirsten gets me alone in the stockroom and releases my arm. She spins to face me, her lips drawn in a tight line and her eyes narrowed.
“What the fuck is going on?”
My jaw tics, and I take a step back. I know I look bad. That isn’t the first panic attack I’ve had in my lifetime. I’ve seen in the mirror my pale face and jumpy eyes, but it isn’t bad enough to get this reaction. This isn’t sympathetic concern. This is anger.
“Huh?”
“Where did you go last night, Abi? Did you…” She takes a deep breath and closes her eyes a moment. “Did you steal something from Colter Gruco’s house?”
“What?” Now it’s my turn for my eyes to narrow. “Why would you ask me that?”
“Because he’s here,Abi.” I flinch at the way she says my name. “He’s in Rick’s office talking about how, apparently, you’re a thief and shouldn’t be working here. What did you take from him? I know money’s tight, but do you have any idea who he is? What the hell is wrong with—”
“Stop!” I say, holding my hand to my aching chest. “Just stop.” Nausea creeps in, and I bend over and breathe deeply through my nose to calm it.
Oh my God.
Oh my fucking God, this is a nightmare.
Kirsten sighs and steps up to me. She runs her hand over my back, and I can feel the anger draining from her, but it does nothing to give me relief.
“Just breathe.”
“How does he know where I work?” I ask, my voice strained. “Jeremy doesn’t know I work here, so how would Gruco have found out?”
Kirsten’s hand stills on my back, and I assume it’s because she can hear the thin accusation in my tone. I expect to see a defensive expression when I stand up straight and look her in the eye, but instead it’s one of pity. Her brows are pulled in, and her lips are set in a frown.
“You have no idea who he is, do you?”
“He’s the guy running for Ward Four’s councilman. I was at his party last night, I remember.”
Her frown deepens, and she looks to me with so much pity I’m certain I’m missing something. It occurs to me that I might be out of a job, and worry about him telling Rick what I’ve done shifts to an all new panic.
“You don’t actually think Rick would believe him, do you? I didn’t steal from him, Kirsten, I just—I met him. Last night. And I think I probably pissed him off, but I didn’t steal from him.”
Or did I? Sure I wasn’t the prostitute he was expecting, but… But I don’t even know. I haven’t looked into the social etiquette of prostitution.
“Do you think Rick believes him?” I ask again, pushing the other thoughts out of my mind.
“Oh, honey.” Kirsten says on a sigh.
“Is that a yes?” I ask solemnly. I’m already mentally applying for other jobs in my mind before she speaks again. When she does, it hits me what she’s been trying to tell me. It hits me why his last name sounds so familiar.
“He’s aGruco.”
Gruco.
The word falls off the lips of Rick in my memory. He’s said it before, usually when something’s wrong or business is slow.
“His family owns this club... don’t they?”
I don’t realize I have a shred of hope left until I’m hanging on to it. One strand holding all my weight, and I’m just waiting for her to open her mouth so it can snap.
“Not just the club, Abi… They ownLas Vegas.”