Ruthless Spring

CHAPTER NINE: WINTER

MaximoandLuciashot up a Ramos Cartel restaurant in retaliation.

Vito tried to stop them and paid for it.

It's the only concrete thing I know about the events of the other night. And the only reason I know it was owned by the cartel is because I heard some of the other servers whispering about it. Because, finally, the workers in the club are scared.

And they’re singing like a choir.

They think there will be payback for the shootout. And it's only logical the cartel will shoot up one of the family's establishments.

An eye for an eye.

I don't fault the other workers for being so paranoid. I've found myself looking over my shoulder more than once and I've been paying more attention to my surroundings. If anyone sneaks up on me this time, it won't be for a lack of awareness on my part.

The only people who don't seem worried are the customers, coming in in droves. Like tonight, the club is packed, the music low, and the lights dimmed. One table is rowdier than the others, shouting in excitement and slamming their glasses against the table. Every time they do it, I jump.

"Girl, you look like you're about to have a fucking heart attack," Amarie says as she glides up next to me, leaning her hip against the bar. Her curls fall around her face, bouncing as she shifts. Her plump lips are painted dark red tonight, the tint matching her long acrylics. The outfit she has on tonight is a sparkly, silver dress, and a tall pair of red bottomed heels.

Scratch that, the clients aren't the only ones unafraid. Amarie doesn't seem to give a fuck either.

I run a hand along the back of my neck, inhaling a deep breath. "I'm okay," I tell her.

"Mhmm," she hums in disbelief.

She raps her fingers against the bar before placing her drink order down. Dave comes to retrieve the note and I put mine down as well.

Amarie shifts her full attention back to me, hazel eyes scanning my face. "So, were you there?" she finally asks.

"What?" I ask, my brows pinching together.

She waves a hand at me. "Don't play dumb with me, Winter. I know what happened the other night, everyone knows about it to some degree. I just want to know if you were present at the shootout. Did you see what happened?"

My chest tightens and I gulp, my eyes flicking to Enzo. He's been brooder than usual. And he’s even closer than usual lately, instead of hanging in the corners of the club. He watches me now, seemingly taking in every contour of my face as I turn my attention to Amarie. I choose my words carefully.

I don't doubt that Enzo is a good lip reader and if I'm caught revealing family business, the punishment will be severe.

"I wasn't there.” Which is true. "I was here at the club. We had a conversation that night."

Again, the truth.

I can't remember what the conversation was about, but every shift that we share together, Amarie always strikes up a conversation or two with me.

And I'm no closer to deciphering if she genuinely wants to be my friend, or if she's doing some weird recon on me and my connection to the family.

I'm betting on the latter, because there is something that doesn’t quite click with Amarie. Things don't quite add up. Her working here, her lack of fear of the family, the way she always seems to be digging deeper into my business.

The way she disappears during some of her shifts, and not to any of the back rooms, like the other girls who pick up extra money with their extracurricular activities.

Her eyes narrow. "That sounds truthful, I suppose," she says after a moment, tapping her fingernails along the bar. She leans in a little closer and I suddenly feel like prey. "Did Vito Bianchi get shot?" she asks.

I feel like I’ve been struck. There's been whispers about someone from the family getting shot, but I've yet to hear anyone mention Vito's name. I know it's a combination of fear and people not knowing for sure who got shot.

Giovanni has made sure to keep it under wraps.

Amarie knows far more than she should.

"Ah," Amarie says with a smile, leaning back before I can even give her an answer. "Your face says it all.”