Questions swirled behind her eyes, watching me as I sank to my knees again, and pressed her legs open wide.
“Cain, I—”
But I didn’t want her words, I wanted her actions. Her trust.
I silenced her with my tongue and my touch, her words transforming into wanton moans as I pleasured her over and over throughout the morning, wanting nothing in return, but praying to a god I didn’t believe in that she’d find a way to trust when I said I loved her and would never hurt her again.
CHAPTERSIXTEEN
Two weeks had come and gone without another woman in Ridgewood being attacked, and it felt like the tension in the air had dissipated. But while my customers had bounced back, and Andromeda was bustling again, I was a little more weary.
Through the window of my office, I watched people dance, drink, and mingle. Their happiness did little to ease my stress.
“So, business as usual, then?” I asked Noah through speakerphone, holding my cell phone in my hand while I kicked my legs up on the desk.
He chuckled, the gruff laugh pouring out from the speaker into the space around me. “Yes, business as usual. We’ll catch this guy soon, now that we know what he looks like.”
The Ridgewood Police Department had combed through countless hours of security footage to find this guy, and finally did a few days ago. They knew what he looked like, how he spiked girls’ drinks, and how he lured them outside without their friends noticing.
“When do I get to know what he looks like?I’mthe one who should be on the lookout for him at all times.”
“We can’t release it to the public yet, Rosie, but rest assured, we’ll have a heavy presence at Andromeda for a while. Not to mention the extra security detail you already have set in place.”
I groaned and dropped the phone into my lap so I could rub my eyes with the heels of my hands. “For once, can’t you break the rules?”
“No can do. I gotta go—stay vigilant, Rosie.”
The line went dead before I could try to persuade him more, and I huffed out another angsty groan before picking my phone back up.
Texting Sly, I asked him to come to my office for a second, knowing he was already somewhere close. He didn’t respond, but a few minutes later, there was a soft knock at my door before he let himself in.
“Ciao, bella. What’s going on? Why do you look like you want to cry?”
“Because I want to,” I whined as I rolled my neck from side to side, letting the joints pop to alleviate some of the tension. “I just got off the phone with Noah—Lieutenant Whitlock. They know who they’re looking for now, but won’t release the information to the public yet. How am I supposed to keep my bar safe when I don’t even know what he looks like?”
Sly came around my desk and sat against it, stretching his legs outward as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Exactly how you have been keeping it safe. We keep an eye out. Watch the drinks. Watch the people. The Sinners have a set plan in motion—all our eyes have a job. You shouldn’t worry about your safety, mia preferita. We’re all protecting you.”
“That’s exactly what I’m worried about, Sly. You, and Cain, and the rest of your goonies, all protect me. But what about the rest of the people in my bar? Who’s protecting them?”
“We are, as is your paid security team, and la polizia who circle the perimeter. We’re all here, Rosie, protecting everyone. Though I can think ofsomeonein particular putting a heavy emphasis on protectingyou.”
My head involuntarily shook. “I know, I’m sorry. This isn’t like me. I feel like I’m losing my mind with stress.”
Sly leaned over and pressed a tender kiss against the top of my head. “No, mia preferita, it’s not, but I cannot blame you for the stress. Now, come with me. Let's get you out of this office and to where you flourish.”
He stood, holding out his hand for me to take. I placed mine in his and allowed him to pull me to my feet, where he wrapped me in a warm hug before leading us out of my quiet fortress and into the bar.
* * *
“Hey boss,pass me that shaker, would ya?” Indy yelled over the music, tipping her chin toward the dirty cocktail shaker sitting to my left. I rinsed it before giving it to her.
The music was loud tonight, much louder than I like it, but in an effort to bring in some foot traffic, Indy had enlisted the help of her old college friend who abandoned his degree in social services in favor of becoming a disc jockey.
DJ Benny Beats (truly, that’s the name he came up with), was giving me a splitting headache.
Placing three glasses on a tray in front of me—a martini glass, a shot glass, and a lowball—I made up the drinks for my server to take to a nearby table.
Across the room, Nixon and Sly each sipped on two fingers of whiskey, and I made a mental note to bring them a refill soon.
