Going Deep

I clenched my fist around my purse strap and lifted my chin. I caught the way his gaze shifted for just a split second to my purse. He took my hand and started walking again. We made it all the way to a grocery store before he stopped, tugged me to him, and held me loosely around the waist.

“Hannah,” he said lightly, “there are good choices and bad choices in life. This”—he gestured between us with his free hand— “is a good choice. But what you did today was probably a bad one.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but he kept talking.

“I’m going to take a shot in the dark and say that Richie is involved in whatever this is, and I can guarantee you that my aim, even in the dark, is pretty damn good. This is bad, Hannah. You need to back away.”

“I can’t,” I whispered, though I couldn’t meet his gaze.

He drew in a deep breath and hugged me. “Then I’ll help you.” He lifted his chin toward the parking lot. “Come on. My car’s here. I’ll give you a lift and let you out a couple of blocks from the club.”

Being with Danny had both calmed my nerves and rattled my thoughts. He was good for me. I knew that. I just hoped when this was over—whatever it was—he looked at me the same way.

Chapter Seven: Danny

Around eleven that night, Archie Dee, as squirrelly as ever, bounced into the club, glanced around, and came right in my direction at the edge of the stage. He shouted to be heard over the blaring speakers.

“Hey, Danny, how’s it hangin’?”

“Good, Arch, you?”

“Ain’t complainin’.” He rocked on his feet. “Saw you with Hannah today.”

I shifted my glance from the dancer on stage to him, my antenna up. “Oh, and where was that?”

“Uptown a bit.”

Jesus.

He leaned forward, preparing to whisper but then realized he still needed to shout. “Not a smart move, Danny. She’s off-limits.”

“She’s an adult, Arch. Don’t see where what she does is anyone’s business but her own.”

Archie laughed. “Sure, sure, Danny, you just keep on believin’ that.”

He gave Brittany a little wave and headed across the room. Something snagged his attention, and he paused at the doorway. His glance shifted between a man in the corner and me, and I got a bad feeling. The man was Stan. Archie was talking to him. Fuck.

I mouthed, “Piss break,” to Dougie and strolled toward the restrooms. My heart beat louder than the drum through the speakers.

Archie and Stan were chatting it out like old buds. Archie. turned to me when I approached. “Hey, Danny, come here. Small world, right? You guys know each other?”

I gave Stan a cursory glance, and Stan did the same.

“Don’t think so,” I said. Stan shook his head.

“Well, if this ain’t fuckin’ funny,” Archie said.

“What’s funny?” I asked, dreading the answer, though also curious about how Archie viewed the world.

“’Because he was in the pool hall the night of the fight. You were there. I was there. And now look,”—he spread his arms— “here we are in another fucking place, together like old pals.”

“I see a lot of fights,” Stan said. “Which pool hall was that?” He put a little slur into his words, but I knew Stan. He could drink a gallon of liquor and hold his shit together. It was the reason he was hired for assignments like this.

“Rack ’Em Up,” Archie said. “Don’t you remember? My pal Danny here drove Otto’s head into the jukebox like a bowling ball.”

Stan narrowed his eyes. He knew I’d stuck around too long too. “Sure. I remember. Been there lots of times. Not a fan of Otto’s. He got what he deserved.”

“We’re all in agreement with that?” Archie said with a stupid grin. “But, hey, guess we all have the same interests.” Once again, I waited with dread for words to tumble from his mouth. He smiled brightly. “Pool and pussy, right?”