Honor by Jay Crownover
I shoved the covers off and went to retrieve my phone from where it had landed. The battery was almost dead, but there was enough life left in it for me to see Nassir never texted me back. I almost threw it again but stopped when I noticed I had an e-mail. I never used the app on my phone. I had no need for an e-mail address and didn’t want anything that was easily tracked, but I did like to shop on Amazon, so there was no getting around having one. When I clicked to open it, my heart started to race and I got a little light-headed. I was so surprised, mostly that I was surprised, that I sat down heavily in the center of the floor and just stared dumbly at the first-class ticket with my name on it for a flight that was scheduled to leave tomorrow morning.
His message was brief and so very Nassir:
Get your ass home. Leave your shit and I’ll send someone for it later.
No “I’m so happy” or “thank God” or “hallelujah.” Just the ticket and the order to get my ass home. Had I really expected anything different?
I rested my cheek on my drawn-up knees and pondered my ability to handle getting back in the game with him. He controlled everything. He was everywhere. He devoured whatever was in his path, and I didn’t want to end up being nothing when he was done with me.
I must have stayed in that spot longer than I realized because when there was a knock on the door it actually hurt to unfold my body from the bent-over and curled-up position. I groaned as my spine snapped and popped when I went to open the door. The pretty redheaded cop was on the other side. I couldn’t say I was that shocked to see her. She was a persistent little thing.
“I made your boss give me your address off your application when he said you didn’t show for your shift. I heard you left the Bar with a guy last night, so I was worried when I heard you missed your shift.”
This was my own fault for using a place where she knew everyone as a pickup spot. I let her into the apartment and offered her something to drink. She was in her uniform, so I wasn’t sure if she was still on the clock or not. She must have been off because she took the beer I held out to her.
“I brought a guy back here with me and realized it was a mistake. I sent him packing and then decided it was time I went home. I like Denver, but this isn’t where I belong.”
She considered me thoughtfully for a second as she sipped on the microbrew. “I think I would be really interested to know where home is for you, Keelyn.” Her gaze dipped to the collar of my T-shirt, which had slipped to the side, showing off my scar. “It doesn’t seem like a very friendly place.”
I adjusted my shirt and grinned at her. “It’s not, but I’m not really a very friendly person, so it works for me. I miss it, and no matter how hard I try I can’t seem to forget it.”
She tapped her nails on the glass and lifted an auburn eyebrow at me knowingly. “Can’t forget it, or can’t forget him? You’ve been a different person since that guy came to see you.”
I sighed and gave her a level look. “No. This is who I really am. This is who he came to bring home. The girl that was here before his visit was a fake. I thought I could be her, learn to love her, but now I know I can’t.”
The cop considered me thoughtfully and pointed at the still-raw mark on my forehead with her bottle. “She didn’t have to worry about getting jumped in the parking lot either.”
I barked out a laugh and lifted a couple of fingers to the cut. “I know it sounds crazy, but that’s part of the problem. I’m leaving tomorrow morning.”
Her chocolate-colored eyes popped open wide. “Wow. That’s fast.”
I nodded. “He doesn’t mess around.”
“No. He didn’t look like the type that does.” She finished her beer and walked over to give me a hug. It was so weird. No one hugged in the Point unless they were naked and about to get it on. “Be safe, and I hope wherever you are going and whatever you are chasing makes you happy.”
I hugged her back and followed her to the door. “I don’t know that I’ll ever have happy, but I would settle for content and satisfied.”
She tossed her long hair over her shoulder and gave me a hard look. “If you’re going back to a place that puts bullets in you and to a man that you can’t stay away from, then don’t settle for anything.”
She sounded so fierce and so determined that I found myself agreeing with her. “Okay. I won’t settle, and thank you.”
She frowned at me as she started to pat all her pockets, looking for what I assumed were her keys. “For what?”
I leaned on the doorjamb as she continued to search, and laughed as she did a little victory dance when she fished them out of her back pocket.
“For being normal and for showing me what a regular life with real friends could be like. It’s not something I’ll ever forget.”
Her mouth made a little O of surprise but before she could ask me anything else I closed the door and dug a suitcase out of my closet so I could start packing. The Point might not be normal and life there might not be what a real life looked like to anyone else, but it was mine, and now that I was committed to going back, I could feel the way it called to me. I felt the dirt on my skin. Heard the call of sex and decadence in my ear. Tasted the power and the influence of bad things on my tongue. The shell I had been hiding in shattered and the real me that had been banging angrily at my insides took her place back on top. There was nothing dull or boring about me. I was made to stand out not to blend in, and I was going back to the Point ready to shine.
The city and the man that ran it in the darkness were two things I couldn’t live without and I was done trying to deny myself either of them. They were both a part of me just as much as I was a part of them. Leaving was not something a woman that wrote her own rules and made her own way did when things got tough. No; the woman I was, the woman I spent my life trying to be, needed to shore up her defenses and fight for her place. A place that wasn’t beneath the man in charge but by his side. I didn’t want a spot on the court Nassir played on; I wanted a spot on his team.
It was time to go home . . . After all, that’s where my heart was.
Chapter 4
Nassir
“Why is the cooler open?”
I was more irritated than I needed to be, but that was because Keelyn’s plane had landed over two hours ago and I had no idea if she had gotten on the flight out of Denver or not. My typical indifference had fled and I felt like all my nerves were strung too tight, and like angry bees colored with anxiety and anticipation were buzzing underneath my skin.
I went to slam the heavy door to the walk-in cooler but paused when I noticed a bunch of boxes on the floor. Since I’d pushed to get the club open by the end of the week after letting it sit stagnant for half a year, everyone was rushing around to get the gorgeous monster ready. That meant a flood of bartenders, cocktail servers, barbacks, security, dancers, and the men and women that were hired for the real purpose of the club were all running around trying to primp and polish before I threw the doors open. People were just as eager to sell sex and debauchery as they were to buy it, but even in all of the haste I didn’t tolerate sloppy work. The boxes on the floor of the cooler held bottles of champagne that, combined, cost more than most midsize cars. There was a small fortune sitting carelessly on the floor of the cooler, and it was enough, in my already tense state, to make me blow a gasket.
The fact that it was on the floor where anyone could trip over it or could set something heavy on it was just unacceptable. So was the fact that the cooler was wide open, letting the temperature drop on the hundreds and thousands of dollars of product stored inside. I muttered a few ugly words in my first language and made my way inside the big metal room to sort the mess out myself. I had run security checks and done intensive digging into the backgrounds of everyone I hired to work at the club. No amount of research on a person could tell me if they had a quality work ethic, though. That was the problem with an operation this big. I had to bring so many strangers on board to help keep the business going, and all I
I shivered a little bit as the cold from the cooler snaked down the back of my collar and touched my neck. I hefted the first box up and moved it to its correct place on the wire shelving that stored all the booze and beer that was supposed to be served cold. I was still swearing in Arabic when I turned to get the second box off the floor. I had to rub my hands together for a second because of the chill. When I stopped I heard a noise. Frowning, I put my hands down and looked around the cooler. It was just a big metal square divided into rows by miles of metal and wire shelving stocked full of bottles and cases of liquor. Feeling like an idiot for being jumpy, I picked up the case and was about to muscle it into place when Chuck appeared at the doorway I left open.
“Hey, boss, you have a visitor upstairs.”
I lifted an eyebrow at him. “In my office?”
Since we were closed and the employees all had specific tasks they were supposed to be attending to, I knew it could only be one person, and my heart lurched at the thought.
“Yep. I told her you were busy but she said she would wait.” Chuck grinned. He had known Keelyn for as long as I had, and most of the time he treated her like she was his unruly daughter rather than my downfall. He liked to push her buttons and she always pushed back.
“Let me put the rest of this away and I’ll head up. I want to know who left it on the floor.”
I moved to the shelf to set the case down, and just as I let go of the box I heard another noise. The earsplitting sound of metal scraping across concrete and the sound of expensive glass shattering as it rattled against itself and rolled onto the ground as the entire row started to tip on its side toward me. At first I was dumbfounded, so I stood there numbly until the first beer bottle cracked open and got my very expensive shoes wet right at the same moment Chuck barked my name.
I might’ve hated my earlier life, but there was no denying that the training I received and the survival instincts that were woven into my every thought and movement still served me well. I took a flying leap toward the door just as the entire section of shelving hit the floor. My feet barely cleared the heavy rack as I landed with a grunt and scrambled upright in order to avoid drowning in the very costly river of booze that was rushing toward me.
“Jesus, boss. That was close.”
I dusted off my pants and scowled when I noticed a black smear that ran across the front of my shirt that wouldn’t wipe away. My palms were stinging from the impact and appeared to be torn open and raw in spots. I knew I was going to have bruises on my knees.
“This is unacceptable, Chuck. Find out who installed the racks. Find out who left the champagne on the floor and left the door open. I want to talk to both of them.” And by “talk,” I meant intimidate and make them understand this kind of shoddy work was unacceptable on my watch. The punishment for such laziness wasn’t going to be a simple slap on the wrist.
Chuck rubbed a hand over his bald head and gave me an odd look. “I was here when they installed the rack, Nassir. They did it right. I made sure of it. The bottles shouldn’t have fallen over like that. Not unless they were pushed or messed with.”
I shook my throbbing hands out. “Well, no one was in the cooler but me, and no one else is in there now.” It wasn’t like there was anywhere to hide in the square room. “I’m going upstairs. Have the barbacks clean up this mess and make sure they understand what happens when things are not done properly. Someone needs to pay for all this lost product.”
Logically, I knew I was the only person that could afford to cover the loss, but it was the principle.
“Glad you’re okay.”
I grunted a response and made my way to the private elevator I had had installed that led up to my office. I punched in the code and flexed my fingers. I needed to get my adrenaline in check before I came face-to-face with her. It wouldn’t do me any good to rush at her, throw her on the ground, and climb all over her like I wanted to do. She was back, but I didn’t know for how long, and my goal was to make her stay forever, so I needed to make sure I moved with poise and caution. It was the only outcome I was okay with. She couldn’t leave again. I felt like I was missing the very thing I lived for with her halfway across the country. I needed her in my life; otherwise everything I did and everything I was had no meaning.
When the elevator doors opened, they revealed my massive, glass-topped, walnut desk and the beautiful woman sitting in my leather wingback behind it. Oh, Key was back all right and she was back with a vengeance. Her hair shone like the paint job on a fast car with all its bright red intensity, her makeup was heavy and sultry, and from what I could see of her body, she was back in clothes that were designed to make most men come to heel. Her tight black top dipped down low into her cleavage, showing off both her impressive rack and her raised-up scar. She looked like the overly sexualized villain in a superhero movie and I could hardly handle it. I wanted to rush at her, snatch her up, throw her on my desk, and bury myself so deeply inside of her she would never be able to shake me loose. I breathed out low and long through my nose and told myself to keep my baser instincts in check. I might be a monster, but I wasn’t an animal.
She had her legs crossed, and her heels, which I was sure cost the same as my now ruined suit, were propped up on the edge of my desk. It was the hottest thing I had ever seen. I shoved my hands in the pockets of my slacks and willed the erection that was stirring to life to settle down. I needed to know what her agenda was before I tried to make her understand that my only agenda was her . . . and always had been. I took a few steps into the room and paused when she swung her long legs off the desk and climbed to her feet so she could start walking toward me.
I met her halfway and we stared at each other in a strained silence for a long minute. I could feel her breathing. I could see her delicate pulse fluttering in her neck. I could almost taste the tiny drop of moisture that beaded up at her hairline and dipped across her temple. I was so consumed with having her back where she belonged and being so close to her after so long that I didn’t see her fingers curl into a fist. When the blow landed on my cheek, it whipped my head around with enough force to make me gasp in surprise. She had a good enough arm that the punch made my teeth clamp down on my tongue, and before I knew it, I had a mouth full of blood. I grumbled at her and took a step back as she shook her hand out and glared at me.
“That was for the bum you paid to beat me up. You’re such an asshole, Nassir.”
I walked around her and went to my desk to find something to spit the blood into. I fell into the chair she’d vacated and pulled a tissue out of the drawer.
“He was supposed to scare you, not put his hands on you.” Anger at myself and the situation I created pricked at my skin. Her blow was a thousand times more deserved than the ones I let some stranger land on me for her. I never wanted to be responsible for causing her pain, physical or otherwise, and yet that’s exactly what I had done because of my own shortsightedness.
She pushed the longer front portion of her hair off of her face and pointed at a healing red mark that blazed an obvious trail over her eyebrow. “Well, he didn’t get that memo, which isn’t surprising since he was clearly a tweaker. You can’t ever leave well enough alone.”
I spit another mouthful of red out and then stuck my tongue out so I could probe at the wound. Man she had a killer right hook.
“I couldn’t.” That was the truth. I couldn’t leave her in Denver. I couldn’t forget about her. I could never leave her alone even if that was really what she wanted. I was a desperate man doing desperate things for a woman that hated desperation in all its forms. “But I’m not going to let that waste of skin get away with putting his hands on you either.” I had a guy traveling to Colorado now to get her car and the rest of her stuff. I was going to make a call and make sur
She sighed and moved back toward where I was sitting. I thought she would take a seat in one of the chairs on the opposite side of the desk or on the ornate chaise that sat by the opaque windows that overlooked the bar. She didn’t. She walked around the corner of the desk, squeezed herself between my legs and the edge of the wood, and propped herself up right in front of me so that our legs were touching. The outside of her almost naked thighs pressing against the fine wool in the inside of mine. I felt the contact throughout my body like an electric current.
She crossed her arms over her enhanced chest and looked down her nose at me. “You can’t punish someone for something you orchestrated. You are the one at fault here, Nassir, not the bum. He never bothered me. Not for six months, until you showed up and waved a big ol’ juicy steak at him. Be accountable for your shitty behavior for once in your life.”
I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. She was fooling herself if she thought I was going to let anyone put their hands on her in a violent way even if I was the one that had set the wheels in motion. I wasn’t going to argue because what was done was done.
“What do you think of the club?”
Her soft gray eyes widened and then narrowed. “It’s big and fancy. You can’t miss it as soon as you drive into the city.” There was a pause and her breath hitched. “You named it after me.”
I grinned at her. She was the key to everything that mattered in my world and in this city. Of course I named it after her.