Page 7 of Dirty Beasts: Chance

“Well, it should be.” I switch my grip on my mug, threading my two middle fingers through the handle. “He’s easy to underestimate, trust me on this. One-to-one, he’s about as threatening as a newborn kitten. He’s dumber than a bag of hammers. But he’s street savvy, and he knows very, very bad people, and he’s very, very good at getting them to do his dirty work.”

He just shrugs. “Oh, I believe you. I’m just not worried. Not about him, and not about the people he knows. He can order as many hits on me as he wants—he has to know how to find me for them to carry out the hits.”

“Well, you have to leave this club at some point.”

He smirks. “Don’t be so sure.”

“You never leave?” I eye him skeptically. “Not ever?”

He shakes his head. “Got everything I need, and there’s nothing out there I want.”

I consider this. “So you work up there, and live down here.”

He nods. “Yup.”

“What do you do when you’re not working?”

“Read,” he says, then tips his head to the side. “And lift.”

I shake my head. “Yeah, I couldn’t do that.”

“Do what?” His brown eyes take on a twinkle. “Read?”

I just roll my eyes. “No, asshole—live my entire life in one building and never leave.”

His eyes lose the twinkle. “Yeah, well, I have my reasons.” He points at me. “What’s the deal with you and that guy anyway? You said his name is Alvin?”

I nod. “Yeah, Alvin Robertson.” I turn away from him. “And my deal with him is none of your fucking business.”

“Owe him money?” He guesses. I don’t answer, and he nods. “You owe him money.”

“I said it’s none of your business.”

He just looks at me, humor and teasing gone. “I told you you’re safe here.”

“Safe is relative. And unlike you, I can’t just hide in the basement of a nightclub.”

“Oh no? Why not?”

“Because I have a life.”

He arches that damn eyebrow again. “A life that includes owing a two-bit sack of shit like that enough money that you’re acting like his goddamn servant?”

I feel my mouth tighten, my gut burn. I shoot to my feet, snatching my cane and doing my damndest to make a nice, dramatic, stomping-away exit. “Fuck you. You don’t know the first goddamn thing about me.”

He makes a rather effective point—waits where he is as I walk away, only to follow me and catch up within a few long strides. He pivots in front of me. Blocks me in.

“Move,” I snap. “I’m leaving. I’ll take mychancesout there with fucking Alvin.”

“I’m offering you an alternative, Annika.” His voice is gentle again.

This cuts me deep, because it almost feels genuine. I know it can’t be, I know anything he’s offering comes with a catch. There’s always a catch.

“Yeah. Owe him, or owe you.” I push around him. “Sorry, buddy, but better the devil you know, you know?”

He moves faster than I’d have believed possible—for anyone, let alone a man his size. He’s just there in front of me again, and now my free hand is clutched in his paw. His hand is so big he’s gripping my closed fist in his hand, engulfing it.

“Not always, no.” He lifts my hand in his, touching the underside of my chin until I’m forced to look at him. “You gotta know what’s out there for you, Annika. That being not a damn thing. Nothing good, at any rate. Owing that rat fucking bastard. Cowed by him. Doing what he tells you. Taking his shit and eating it.” His eyes are hard. “Or worse. Man like that, in the end, only one thing he’ll take as payment. You can fetch him drinks all day long and you’ll never get free of him.”