Having no idea what a good time was supposed to be like, Juliette answered, “I think so.”
“You think so? Think so isn’t good enough, Juliette.”
“Yes,” she corrected. “I did.”
“Good, because I need you to do something else for me.”
A frown tightened Juliette’s brow. “What?”
“Yeah, it’s easy.”
“No,” she gasped. “You said we were done. That if I … that if I did what you said, you’d forget the debt.”
“And I meant it,” he promised smoothly. “The month you owed me is forgiven. Done. You don’t need to worry about it ever again.”
No. No!
She sunk to the ground under the phone booth. “No, that’s not what you said…”
“Yes, it was.” He laughed, long and hard. “Did you really think I meant the whole debt? Jesus, Juliette, that’s crazy. But I have a way where you can get rid of the whole thing in a matter of a couple of weeks.”
It was curdling inside her to say no and hang up, but that was just suicide.
“What?” Even to her own ears, the single word sounded jagged and hollow.
“I knew you’d like that.” She heard something crack in the background. Pool balls maybe. “I need you to see Killian again.”
“Killian? Why?”
“Because he has something I need and only you can get it for me.”
“What?”
“Don’t worry about that right now. Just get yourself back in his good graces and I will tell you what when the time is right.”
“Wait. How do I—?”
“Oh come, come, Juliette. You’re a woman. Aren’t you guys hardwired with the ability to lure men into your web?” He laughed when she said nothing. “Okay, look, you’re at work, right? What time do you get off?”
“My first shift ends at midnight,” she choked out.
“Great. Call me when you’re done.”
With that, he hung up.
Chapter 7
Killian studied the bank slip Juliette had left behind and thought of the woman who had evaded his men and risked her life to tell him to take back something most people would have never questioned. Money was the thing that turned his world. It was something everyone worked very hard to obtain and keep, including murder. Yet she had thrown it back in his face even though it was obvious from her bank slip that she had none. With his amount gone there would be nothing in there. So why had she given it back? Why all of it?
He set the slip down on his desk and stared at it some more, determined to make sense of the mystery that was Juliette Romero, because it made no sense. She made no sense and the more he thought about her the less sense she made.
“Sir?” Frank darkened the open doorway of Killian’s office, hands clasped neatly in front of him. He regarded Killian with cool, black eyes. “The car is ready.”
“Already?” Automatically, his gaze dropped to his watch.
“Yes sir.”
Jesus, it was already after eleven. Where the hell had the time gone?
He glanced at the mound of papers spread out across the expanse of his great grandfather’s favorite desk. None of it was finished. He had started, but at some point his mind had wandered back to that morning and Juliette and hadn’t returned.
Juliette.
He eyed the slip just sitting there, mocking him and shook his head. Damn if that didn’t just prove his theory about her.
Dangerous. Definitely. Absolutely. No doubt about it.
Dragging the slip into the top drawer of his desk, Killian rose. He fastened the button on his blazer and made his way to where the other man stood. Neither said another word as Killian made his way downstairs and out the front doors. The limo and BMW had been switched for a simple town car in gunmetal gray. Marco stood at the door, holding it open. He tipped his head forward slightly in indication when Killian approached.
“Would you like to make any stops before we hit the club, sir?”
Killian shook his head. “No, thank you, Marco. Straight there, please.”
Marco bowed his head again as Killian took the backseat and the door was shut behind him. Frank crammed his large frame into the passenger’s side, rattling the frame and making the little pine air freshener swing beneath the rear view mirror.
Killian drew out his phone and scrolled absently through the emails he would spend the night combing through. There never seemed to be a shortage in crap people sent him. He made a mental note to get someone to go through the mess for him. It was time consuming and he already had too little of it to waste.
“Sir, would you like me to double security at the house?” Frank broke through the silence, attention fixed on the tiny phone in his massive palm. “I think after the incident this morning—”
“No,” Killian said, pocketing his phone and turning his gaze to the window. “If Juliette returns, I am to be informed immediately.”
Frank lifted his head and turned it ever so slightly over the seat. “Sir, that is not advisable. To be lax about security—”
“She is not a threat,” he cut in and almost laughed; she was nothing if not the biggest threat Killian had ever faced. “I want to be informed.”
Frank inclined his head once before keying the instruction into the phone. Killian knew it would be sent to every member of his security team as an update.
“Max has just informed me that the money transfer you requested be sent this morning was returned.” Frank paused to scroll more carefully through the message. “Perhaps there was an error with the bank or the account numbers Domino retrieved. Would you like him to resend or look into the matter?”
Killian shook his head. “No.”
Frank sent the message to Max.
There were no more questions as they drove into the heart of the city and Killian’s brand new nightclub. Ice was only one of fifteen, but so far, it was his favorite. The glass and steel motif reminded him of living in an ice castle. The place was spacious with three full floors for dancing, a fully stocked bar and menu and a bartender that could make just about every drink under the sun. Plus it was the first establishment he’d bought with money that didn’t belong to his family. It had come from his own hard work and that alone made it special.
The car was pulled up behind the building and Killian climbed out before Marco could get the door for him. The night was humid with the promise of rain. Already the streets glittered like black diamonds and crunched beneath his soles as he made his way inside.
The backdoor opened just behind the dance floor and was guarded by a beefy bouncer who kept people from sneaking inside without paying admission. He gave Killian a fleeting glance before turning narrowed eyes back on the crowd.
Marco took lead, paving a path along the edges of the packed floor towards the stairs tucked in a corner towards the back. Beneath their feet, lights blasted neon tones that reflected off the glass tables, walls and ceilings. Strobe lights pulsed in time to the heavy thunder of bass and swung wildly over sweaty skin and glittering dresses. The place was full and he knew outside would already have a lineup. He paid no attention to anyone as he followed the stairs to the third floor. Frank was at his back, moving with a quiet sort of grace a man his size should never possess.
At the top, Killian opened the metal door leading into his office and stepped into the box overlooking the entire club. Most of it was one sided glass that glinted a deep purplish blue that matched the plush carpet tucked beneath the leather sofa and glass coffee table. There was an onyx bar pushed up against the right side with glass shelving built into the wall behind it. At the head of the room sat a desk with a computer.