After This Night

CHAPTER NINE

The bride sat on the groom’s lap, and his arms were wrapped around her waist. Julia held a glass of champagne and laughed at something Chris said. Jill reached across to punch Chris on the shoulder, and he rubbed the spot where she swatted him, clearly pretending it hurt. Then they all laughed, and Clay made up the words they were saying in his head.

He stood outside, watching the reception unfold through the windows. His phone was pressed to his ear.

“So what did you learn?”

“That Charlie Stravinski loves greenbacks more than anything in the world,” Cam said.

“How so?” Clay turned away from the scene, and walked down the hill.

“He’s got his fingers in all sorts of pies. He runs this limo company, right? Charlie’s Limos. Totally legit, but it’s his Bada Bing,” Cam said.

“The strip club in The Sopranos.”

“Yep. It’s a clean business, and everything flows under that. He’s got the market locked up in San Fran on sports betting. That’s his big cash cow. He does concert tickets too—steals them and resells them at scalper prices. His growth market, though, is in poker. He runs a lot of big executive games in the Valley. He just started running some games in New York too,” Cam said, and Clay stopped at a tree, setting his palm against the trunk.

“He’s working out of the Big Apple now?”

“Seems he is. And he’s a big-ass loan shark too.”

“Oh well, of course,” Clay said sarcastically, because Charlie was growing more conniving with every new detail. “Did you get the story behind Mr. Pong’s?”

“You bet your ass I did. Used to belong to good old Mr. Pong himself. But Mr. Pong needed money to pay off an investment that went belly up, so Charlie loaned him the dough, putting up his restaurant as collateral.”

“Let me guess. He never came up with the money.”

“Bingo,” he said enunciating every syllable. “Charlie took over, and word on the street is Mr. Pong is living on the street.”

“He’s homeless?” Clay said, his voice thick with shock.

“That’s what I hear. His restaurant was all he had, and it’s all Stravinski’s now. Tons of VCs in the city eat there. Charlie runs his games above the restaurant and he has lunch there every day at twelve-thirty. Those fuckers love their routines, don’t they?”

He steeled himself for the next question. “What about drugs?”

“Nope. He’s as squeaky clean as they come in that regard. But . . .” Cam said, his voice trailing off into a territory that Clay wasn’t so sure he wanted to go. But he had to.

“But what?” he asked wearily, as a cold gust of wind snapped. The night cooled off quickly by the bay.

“My sources say he might be making a move into the world’s oldest profession, so there’s that.”

Clay clenched a fist, his fingers digging hard into his palm. He could slam it against the tree, bang it hard and unleash this coiled ball of anger eating up his chest, but that wouldn’t do him a lick of good. He gritted his teeth, and turned away from his temptation.

“‘Course, if it were up to me, I’d advise him to stay out of that racket,” Cam continued.

“Thanks for looking into all that, man,” he said. Then he stopped in his tracks. “Wait. There’s someone else I need you to look into.”

“Who’s that?”

But Clay didn’t know Dillon’s last name. “I need to get more info. Let me get back to you on that.”

“You know where to find me. And I’ll see you Saturday for our game?”

Clay nodded. “I’ll be there,” he said, and as soon as the words were spoken, something started to click.

He ended the call, but he didn’t head back inside. Instead, he watched from a distance, rubbing a hand across his jaw as he began to hatch a plan.

A few glasses of champagne later, Julia was feeling like the drink herself—bubbly and effervescent. Though that might simply be due to the gorgeous man with his arm draped possessively around her. He’d been by her side since he returned from making his phone call, and she loved that he found ways to touch her all night, whether he brushed her fingertips accidentally when he took her glass to refill, or when he absently traced a soft line along her hipbone as the cake was being served.

Having him here with her almost made her forget about the troubles that awaited her. He had that effect, as if he were a magic elixir that erased all the bad. Or maybe that was the magic of falling, the way it was the ideal blend of intoxication, and could blot out all but the tingling in her shoulders, the flip in her belly, the thump of her heart when he looked at her. His gaze was filled with intensity and passion, with desire and tenderness. That was how his eyes roamed her as he held open the door to a taxi after they’d said goodbye to the few remaining guests, the bride and groom having been sent on their way already.

The second the door closed, she leaned into him and sighed happily as she grazed her fingers along his collar. “You’re coming home with me,” she said.

“That I am, gorgeous. That I am,” he said, and removed her hand from his shirt. She shot him a curious look as he knotted his fingers through hers. The cab sped out of the parking lot and down the twisty, hilly roads. He grasped her hand harder as if he were about to make a point. “I have a plan.”

“Already?” she said, arching an eyebrow.

He brushed a finger against that taunting eyebrow, sending it back into place. “Yes, already. What do you think clients pay me the big bucks for? To sit on my ass and not think quickly?”

She laughed. “Fine. You got me there. But let me make one thing clear, Mr. Big Bucks, you are not paying it off for me.”

He held up his hands as if in surrender.

“You were going to try to, weren’t you?”

“Actually no,” he said firmly.

“Because there’s no way I’m taking it. I haven’t asked anyone for money. I meant what I said—if I were going to ask for help, McKenna would be the first person I’d turn to, and I haven’t breathed a word to her, so don’t even think about it.”

“You considering letting me get a word in edgewise?” he asked as the cab slowed to a stop at a light.

“Maybe. But if you even think about offering, I will do this,” she said, putting her hands over her ears and singing, “La la la, I am not listening.”

He pulled her hands off her ears. “You think I don’t know you? You think I don’t listen? That I can’t figure out already from knowing you the way I do that you’d never ever take money from me or another man?”

She narrowed her eyes at him playfully. The fizzy effect of the champagne was still rolling through her bloodstream.

“I know you, woman,” he continued. “You are independent and stubborn and fiery. Give me some goddamn credit. I would not make you an offer I know you’d walk away from.”

“Ooh, you’re going to make me an offer,” she said, tap dancing her fingertips along his arm. “I. Can’t. Wait.”

He rolled his eyes. “You are red-hot trouble.”

“Tell me about it,” she fired back. “And now you know exactly how much trouble you have gotten yourself into,” she said and laughed, the kind that vibrated through her whole body and made her clutch her belly. It felt so damn good, because she hadn’t laughed about her situation in ages. Never, come to think about it. Now she could because she was no longer in it alone.

“And yet, I’m not walking away, am I?” He grabbed hold of her arms and pulled her close for a hard, fierce kiss that made her feel giddy and wanted at the same time. She was no longer living with armor on. She’d shucked off the heavy metal layers, making herself vulnerable, but lighter too. Something that felt disturbingly like joy raced through her veins as they kissed, and though their kisses had always rattled and hummed like a rock concert, this one was poetry too. It was bliss and beauty as the world shined bright in her heart.

She wasn’t finished with Charlie; but for the first time, she could see a way through because she had a teammate.

She broke the kiss as the cab turned a corner into her neighborhood, and still she was smiling. She wanted to know Clay’s plan, but she was also enjoying this newfound freedom from releasing all her own secrets she’d clutched tightly to her chest. “No, you’re not walking away. You’re driving away with me. Like we’re in a getaway car. Or cab, really,” she said, gesturing to the driver.

He shook his head, clapped his hand down on her thigh. “Let’s focus now, Julia. You know how you said Charlie took the fun out of playing? How he perverted your love of the game?”

She nodded. “Yep. He sure did.”

“I know how to get it back,” he said, as the cab swerved around a bus onto her street. She jerked sideways, her shoulder bumping hard against his.

“Ouch,” she said, rubbing her shoulder.

“You okay?”

She nodded. “You just have a really hard shoulder.”

The car pulled up to the curb. “Hard shoulders are good things,” he said, and reached for his wallet. “I got this.”

“Thank you,” she said, and opened the door and stepped out of the cab. She lifted her face to the night sky, breathing in the cool air and the starlight until she heard a voice.

“Hey.”

She swiveled around and saw Max stalking towards her from the front stoop of her apartment. Tension roared back into her body in a heartbeat as Skunk’s goon-in-training with the baby face and the barrel body stared coldly at her. She glanced over at the cab where Clay was busy handing the driver a credit card.

“Charlie sent me to find you.”

“It’s Saturday. I’m not playing tonight.”

“Yeah, but he wants you to know you’re going to New York next weekend for a game. He has some new blood in the city from the startups there, and he wants you to hustle them.”

She straightened her spine, liquid courage coursing through her. “What if I don’t want to?”

His eyes widened with anger, and in seconds his hand was on the back of her neck. “You think you can talk to me that way?”

He grappled at her skin, digging in. She swatted at his arm, trying to knock him away, but he was more than double her size. “Let go of me,” she spat out.

“Let go of her,” Clay said in a cool, cold voice.

Max shifted his focus to Clay, who was now by her side. “Who the fuck are you?”

“I’m the guy who’s going to make you let go of her,” he said, and before Julia could process what was happening his elbow came down hard on Max’s arm, freeing her from his grip. Then Clay’s fist connected with Max’s jawline with a loud crunch. Julia cringed, the sharp snap echoing down the street.

Max grunted, his eyes nearly popping out from surprise. His gaze darted down at his ankle, and fear flashed hard and fast before her eyes. Oh God, did he have a gun?

“No!” she screamed, but the sound was cut short when Clay slammed a fist into Max’s belly, and the man unleashed a loud grunt as he doubled over. He was fast for his size though, and quickly straightened up. Clay cocked his fist to swing again, but this time Max was faster, landing a punishing jab on Clay’s cheekbone, his hairy knuckles cracking hard against his temple. She swore she could hear bones crunching as Clay stumbled, the back of his head smacking hard against the brick wall of her apartment building. He grunted loudly from the pain, and all her instincts told her to run to him and comfort him.

“Stop! Please stop,” she shouted, and she wasn’t sure if she was talking to Clay or Max, or just praying to the universe for an end to this fistfight. But when she looked around, the street was empty, and she knew this was going to be between the two of them.

Clay lunged forward quickly, brushing off the double-blow like it was nothing, but Max went after him again, raising his fist and swinging hard. Clay dodged that blow, then Max threw another, landing one on Clay’s shoulder that barely seemed to bother him. Especially since he grabbed Max’s hand, twisted it around his back and yanked hard.

“Don’t ever touch her again,” he seethed, jerking the arm higher. Then he let go and reacquainted his fist once more with Max’s jaw, sending the big man stumbling backward and landing flat on his ass on the sidewalk. Max was helpless, huffing in a heavy pile, staring up with wide-open eyes at the man who’d landed the final blow. With fists clenched at his sides and anger radiating off him in hot waves, Clay bent over him. “Now I’m giving you five seconds to get up and run the hell away.”

Max nodded once, scurried to his feet, and took off down the street. When Clay turned to Julia, he was breathing hard and blood streaked from his temple down his cheek.