Dare To Run (The Sons of Steel Row #1) Page 2

  Chris and I had always been tight. When I’d been doing time, he’d come to visit me twice a month. Kept me posted on the happenings in the real world. He’d visited more than my actual brother had, but that was no surprise. I’d always looked out for Scotty, but Scotty wasn’t exactly the sentimental type of guy who put a priority on family visits. And that was fine, too. “I hadn’t been planning on being here at all. This isn’t my department. I came because of the damn ATF. And Scotty has some chick on the line.”

  “Since when do you care what Scotty wants when it comes to this shit?”

  I shrugged. “Since I spent some time behind bars . . . Scotty and I aren’t as close as we once were. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to let him play chicken with the feds. He’s too damn cocky for his own good.”

  “So he’s off fucking some girl while you stick your neck out for him? Like usual?” Chris rolled his eyes.

  I moved my shoulders, wanting nothing more than to get the hell out of here. They were almost finished, so I’d be free any minute now. Free. Funny choice of words. I’d never be free. Not really. The closest I got to free was when I walked down the Freedom Trail. “Yeah. Basically.”

  “You’ve got to stop treating him like a kid. He’s twenty-four now.” Chris looked at me, studying me too close. Chris was the only one who caught glimpses of the real me. “He’s not the little boy you need to protect anymore. He can take care of himself. A little too well, maybe.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked.

  “Nothing, man. Nothing at all.” He shuffled his feet and stared at the guys as they did a final check of the shipping container. “I heard you almost got taken down inside. What happened?”

  I shrugged. “Someone jumped me from behind on the way out of lunch. I fought him off long enough to keep my life, but I didn’t get a clear look at his face before the guards dragged him away. A buddy on the inside said he looked like a new guy but couldn’t point him out. It all happened too fast.”

  “You almost died.”

  Laughing, I scratched my head. “Yeah, well, I didn’t, did I? Good thing I’m out, safe and sound, now,” I drawled.

  Chris rocked back on his heels. “You suspect something, don’t you?”

  “Don’t you?” I looked at Chris. “You can’t bullshit a bullshitter. I see it in your eyes. You know something’s up.”

  “Maybe I do. Maybe I don’t. But a smart man never talks.” Chris dropped his hands at his sides and whistled through his teeth. As he walked away, he said over his shoulder, “Not in this world.”

  “Not even for his blood brother?”

  Chris paused, his broad shoulders tight. “Not even then.”

  “Glad to see you haven’t forgotten me, brother,” I said, pressing my fingers over the old scar in my palm. One of the two Chris and I had made all those years ago on the railroad tracks behind my home. Ma had been pissed at me for deliberately cutting myself. If it’d gotten infected, it would have meant medical bills we couldn’t afford. I’d gone to bed without dinner that night. “Have a good night.”

  Chris spun on his heel and came back, his cheeks red and rage in his eyes. “You know nothing. Nothing. You weren’t here, asshole. You were gone, and the whole thing went to shit. You left me to fend for myself in the damn Sons of Steel Row all by myself.”

  I cocked a brow. “Excuse me for getting arrested.”

  “Ha-ha, so funny, fuckwad.” Chris clenched his fists. “You want me to tell you what I think? You want it that bad?”

  I forced myself to shrug. “If you feel so inclined, sure.”

  “I think someone is putting all his players into motion, and it all started the second we got word that you got parole.” Chris looked me up and down, his nostrils flaring. “And I suggest, brother, that you watch your back.”

  I held my hands out at my sides, forcing a carefree grin . . . even though I felt like anything but. “I always do. It would take a ghost to sneak up on me.”

  Chris shook his head. “Don’t be so damn cocky. It just might be your downfall.”

  “Or it just might be my protection.”

  “Whatever, man,” Chris said, locking eyes with me. “Whatever.”

  As he walked away, I dropped the grin and fisted my hands. “Thanks.”

  Chris didn’t say anything. Just walked up to the newly loaded truck, the men in either the cab or their own vehicles. He tapped the back of the truck to signify that all was well, and the truck took off. Chris followed behind it in his car, the others falling in line behind him. He’d make sure everything got to the warehouse, unpacked, and inventoried. I stared at the convoy as it disappeared from sight, then turned around and left, making sure to keep my steps light and unhurried. As I walked away, I buried my hands in my jeans pockets and whistled “The Star-Spangled Banner.”

  No matter what I did, I couldn’t show my certainty that Chris was right. I’d been thinking the same thing, so hearing it straight from the mouth of the only man I trusted in this world? Yeah, that pretty much answered my unasked questions. It seemed clear as day that this was an inside job, and that meant . . .

  Someone in Steel Row wanted me dead.

  CHAPTER 2

  HEIDI

  This whole city was going to hell, and it was determined to take me with it. I’d grown up here and all, so this really wasn’t new information, but standing behind the bar, watching a bunch of gangbangers argue over who got to hit up the convenience store down the road first, only drove that point home.

  Sometimes I could ignore the degradation and overall shittiness and just feed off the energy of Steel Row. Accept the slums of Boston for what they were. This was my life, and I was okay with that, but on nights like this one? It sucked.

  Shaking my hips to the beat of the music pounding through the sound system, I attempted to ignore the pestering voice in the back of my head that screamed for me to strive for better.

  There was no better. This was it. All she wrote. Cue the pig at the end of the Looney Tunes strip to pop up and say, “That’s all, folks.”

  I’d always hated that little pig.

  But really, I couldn’t complain. I had a better deal than others. I’d run far away from home and had been living on the streets of Steel Row before I’d been taken in by an old man who became more of a parent to me than my parents ever had been. And when Frankie died¸ he’d left me the Patriot, his bar, my bar. I loved this shitty little bar more than I’d ever loved any person.

  With one exception.

  The man who’d given it to me.

  A drunk asshole leaned across the bar, grinning at me. He came in every Friday night, and he never ceased to hit on me, despite the fact that I shot him down every time. “Hey, gorgeous.”

  “Hey, Jimmy,” I said, grabbing an empty mug and filling it up with Bud Lite. “How’s it going?”

  “Good. It would be better if you’d go home with me, though,” he said, eyeing my tits. Big shocker there. “Much better. What do you say? Is tonight the night?”

  I rolled my eyes while I turned away from him. It wasn’t that he wasn’t hot. He was. But he was a dealer, and I’d be damned if I was going to date a guy who would end up dead in an alley somewhere right after my stupid self fell in love with him. I’d seen way too many women in Steel Row go down that road. There was no way I’d join their ranks. Before I turned around, I forced a smile. “Yeah, sorry. I’m not in the mood tonight. I have a headache.”

  “Aw, baby, but I can make you feel like new,” he said, reaching out and gently tugging on a piece of my hair. I slid his beer to him, and he fumbled to catch it. “Oh, I like it when you play rough.”

  Holding my hand out, I leveled a look on him. “Sure you do. That’ll be five bucks, hot stuff.”

  “One of these days, you’re going to regret turning me away,” he teased, handing me a ten.

  “That day hasn’t come yet,” I said, reaching out for the ten. “And I don’t think it ever will, but, hey, whate
ver keeps your juices flowing, man.”

  He caught my fingers, his grip tight. “I know exactly what will do that.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure.” I yanked free and scowled at him. “Too bad it’s never going to happen.”

  “I love the way you tease,” he said, picking up his beer and heading toward his obnoxious buddies. “Keep the change, baby. It’ll help with your headache.”

  I watched him go, flexing my hand. “Asshole.”

  “I heard that,” my bouncer, Marco, said. His brown hair stuck up all over the place, but there was no doubt in my mind he styled it that way on purpose. “Was he bothering you again, Heidi?”

  “Just being his normal cocky self,” I said, shoving the ten into the register drawer. “Nothing I couldn’t handle. How’s the floor tonight?”

  “Rowdy.”

  “I noticed that, too.” I eyed the crowd, my eyes lingering on the group of gangbangers, who were watching me with alarming uniformity. “Trouble’s in the air.”

  Marco cracked his knuckles, his green eyes locked on the same group of men I’d been looking at. “Don’t go home alone. I’ll walk you.”

  “Thanks, Marco.” I put away clean wineglasses, peeking over my shoulder at him. “I appreciate it.”

  “Anytime, Heidi. Anytime.”

  Marco was one of my rare finds. When I met him, he was living on the streets, like I had at his age. He’d been asleep behind my bar, tucked in under a threadbare wool blanket. It had been freezing that night, well below ten degrees, and he’d been shivering uncontrollably. When I walked over to him, he woke instantly, and he’d had this haunting resignation in his eyes. I think I must have looked the same when Frankie had found me. He’d taken me in. Given me a home. A purpose. A job.

  It only felt right that I do the same for Marco.

  Now that he was almost nineteen, he paid me rent for an apartment above the bar, while he waited to head off to college. He’d been accepted to Boston College, and had been offered a dorm early as part of his grant. He would leave in a few days, and he was going to do great things with his life. He’d been given the chance I’d never had, to go to college and make something of himself, and was getting out of this hellhole. I’d never been happier for anyone. He was such a good kid.

  All he’d needed was a chance.

  I might be only five years older than him, but I felt like a mother hen around him. I watched him walk away, smiling, before glancing at the guy who’d just sat down at the end of my bar. As soon as I recognized him, my heart picked up speed. There was something about him, something I couldn’t put my finger on, that made me hyperaware of his very being whenever he was in the same room as me. I didn’t know his name, but I knew he had danger written all over him. In permanent marker.

  He watched me with narrowed eyes that did bad things to my equilibrium. I knew from memory that they were green. Like, really green. They looked clean and fresh and happy, but he was none of those things. He always came in wearing jeans and a muscle-hugging long-sleeved shirt, which he always rolled up to just below his elbows to show off his strong arms covered in a thin dusting of fine hair. I’d stared at those freaking arms way too many times. I’d never been one for arms, for the love of God, but on him? They just worked. Everything did. In truth, he looked raw, gritty, and dangerous. And he had the faintest hint of a Boston accent.

  As if he hadn’t already been unfairly sexy.

  He’d been in every night for the past week, but before then, I’d never seen him. When he came in, he barely spoke two words to me and mostly communicated with grunts and money. He wasn’t rude or anything. Just the strong, silent type.

  The only personal thing I knew about him was that he ran the mechanic shop across the street. I wanted to know more, and there was only one way that was going to happen. Straightening, I made my way over to him. “Whatcha drinking tonight, Lucky?”

  He shrugged out of his dark brown leather jacket—another item he was never without—and dragged his hands through his dark brown hair. Although it wasn’t completely brown. It had a tinge of red . . . not that I’d noticed, of course. Once he settled his jacket on the stool, he eyed me with those bright Irish eyes of his. “My name’s not Lucky.”

  “Are you sure?” I cocked my head. “It fits. I mean, you practically scream Irish. Reddish hair, light eyes. Devastating charm.”

  He cocked a brow. “Devastating charm, huh?”

  “Sure.” I leaned on the bar. His eyes dipped south but shot back up almost instantly. “You come in here, scowl at everyone, and barely say a word. If that’s not devastating charm, I don’t know what is.”

  “Then you need to get out more, Heidi.” He tapped his fingers on the bar and locked gazes with me. “That’s your name, right?”

  My stomach clenched tight at the sound of my name on his lips. With his accent, it sounded almost musical. “Yeah. How did you know?”

  “I pay attention . . .” He trailed off and gave me a charming—yes, charming—smile. “In between bouts of being lethally charming, that is.”

  My heartbeat picked up speed, but I ignored it. I would not swoon over the guy just because he smiled my way. I would not. “Sure. Or you’re a stalker. One or the other.”

  “Darlin’?” He leaned in. He smelled good. Like Dolce & Gabbana cologne, leather, cars, and a healthy dose of pure man. And when he said darling, with the hard r dropping off like that, it melted my insides into a puddle of hot want and desire. I bet he knew it, too. “I’ve been coming here all week. You of all people should know I don’t need to stalk women to get them to come home with me.”

  I reared back and widened my eyes, doing my best to look offended. It wasn’t easy, because I was pretty much impossible to offend. “Excuse me?” I feigned. “Who said anything about me going home with you?”

  For a second, he looked embarrassed. A brief, tiny second. Then the smirk slipped back into place and he tapped his fingers on the bar again. The leashed power behind such a simple gesture sent a shiver down my spine. “Oh, that’s just adorable. You didn’t have to say a thing. I’ve felt you watching me every night.”

  He was right. I had been. I had a feeling I’d be watching him more closely from now on. My cheeks heated, so I pushed away from the bar. “You never answered me, Lucky. What are you drinking?”

  “Whiskey.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket, his eyes narrowing on the screen. “Fuck. Make that a double.”

  “Sure thing.” I turned my back to him and prepared his drink, making sure my hands stayed steady the whole time. I’d never let him see how much he affected me. “Bad news, or news that was so good you need to celebrate?”

  “Does it matter?” He reached into his pocket and slipped a twenty across the bar. “I’m paying either way.”

  I handed him his drink and took the cash. “Nope. Doesn’t matter at all.”

  “Thatta girl.” He took a sip of his whiskey and looked over his shoulder. His strong fingers held the glass, but it was clear his attention was elsewhere. “Who are they?”

  “Who are who?” I asked, ringing him up and taking his change out of the drawer. “You’ll have to be a little more specific.”

  “The guys who have been watching you and whispering since I walked in,” he said, his hard words echoing his rocky accent.

  I gave him a slow smile. “Again, you’ll have to be more specific. I’ve been stared at once or twice in my life.”

  His eyes slid down my body. My black tank top and shorts, paired with black knee-high boots, suddenly felt as if they’d evaporated into thin air. But instead of giving me some contrived come-on that was supposed to sound original, like all the other guys in this joint, he looked me in the eye and said, “The ones at the table in the left corner. They’re not Steel Row guys.”

  I stiffened. Did he not like what he saw? It shouldn’t matter, but it did. “I don’t know. They’ve been acting shady all night.”

  “More than shady.” He raised the glass to his lips. �
�They’re up to something, and it involves you.”

  “Well, unfortunately for them, I’m not interested.”

  “I don’t think they give a damn if you’re interested or not,” he said, his voice hard. “Do you live upstairs?”

  “No. Marco does.” I blew my hair out of my face impatiently. “I live about three blocks down.”

  He frowned. “Do you have someone to go home with at night, or do you walk alone?”

  “That’s none of your business,” I shot back. “I don’t even know you. You don’t get to go all GI Joe on me.”

  His lips twitched, but he didn’t smile. “That might be so, but I’ve never been one to care about that. And you didn’t answer my question.”

  The music seemed to get quieter and the barroom chatter faded as I held his gaze. My fingers tightened on his change.

  “You didn’t ask me very nicely.”

  “I won’t.” He raised a brow, giving me a look that made his eyes darken. But beneath that scrutiny, there was something else. Concern? No. That couldn’t be right. “Are you walking alone, or no?”

  “No.” There was something about him that demanded brutal honesty. “But I can take care of myself.”

  He gave me another once-over. My skin heated. Why did he persist in treating me differently than the rest of my customers did? “I’m sure you can.”

  “Whatever.” I held his slightly wrinkled money out, but he just stared at it. “Take your change.”

  “It’s yours, darlin’.”

  God, that accent, those eyes . . . he was trying to kill me. It was a ridiculously high tip, but whatever. If he wanted to throw money at me, I wouldn’t turn him down. I tucked it into the tip jar under the bar and then patted his arm. It was as hard as I’d always imagined. “Thanks, Lucky.”

  “I told you . . .” He caught my hand with a firm grip. The sensation of his skin on mine was electrifying. There was no other word for it. I might have been imagining it, but I’d swear he looked surprised, like he felt it, too. “That’s not my name.”

  He didn’t have soft hands. They were rough and callused, a man’s hands, and the feel of them was hot. Of course, everything about him was. But I was not a woman who liked to be restrained, and his grip was stronger than I usually allowed. I didn’t try to tug free, not because I didn’t care, but because I didn’t want to seem intimidated. And I wasn’t. “What’s your name, Lucky?”