His Ballerina

“I don’t know. I heard some things.”

Deke’s eyes drift away from Archer and land on me, and oh, boy, I sure wish they wouldn’t. “I heard some things, too.” His smile is the scariest thing about him.

Archer’s arm tightens around my waist, and I find myself leaning against him. Cuddling up to him. No way would he let this overdeveloped meat bag put his hands on me. I’ve seen what he can do, and I know he’s capable of spending an entire day following me around to make sure nobody goes near me. He wouldn’t let this Deke person leave the building alive.

“Let’s not get off-track. I heard you and my boy Trent were getting friendly there for a while. You were seen together a few times—not only Trent, either. A few others from our crew. If you’re that desperate for friends, you should work on your personality. And you should find your friends elsewhere. Got me?”

“Maybe if I had the first idea what you’re talking about.” Deke nods his head to somebody behind us. “Now get outta here before we open for business. Wouldn’t want anybody calling the health department after seeing roaches running around here.”

Archer looks over his shoulder. I can see the man standing behind us out of the corner of my eye. Something tells me he’s not here to welcome us.

“Remember what I said.” Archer’s holding onto me almost as tight as I’m holding onto him as we back away. “Elsewhere. Or I might start having to trail my guys when they’re out on the street, just to be sure you’re not whispering in their ears.”

“Yeah. Do that and see how far it gets you and your family.” Deke glances my way one more time with a nasty little smirk before slamming the door shut. I can’t wait to be out of here.

And I don’t have to wait too long, either. We cross the dance floor again and head out to the sidewalk, and his SUV is waiting where we left it. “I didn’t touch it,” the valet makes sure to say before Archer helps me inside.

I can breathe now. We’re alone, and Archer will keep me safe. I know that. I feel it in my bones.

Once we’re on our way, he takes my hand and raises it to his lips. “I’m sorry I had to take you there. We’ll go home now.”

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not.” He kisses my hand again. “I’ll always do everything I can to keep you away from this part of my life. You don’t belong there. You’re too good for it. But sometimes, it’ll be safer to take you with me than to leave you unprotected elsewhere. Know what I mean?”

I don’t. Not exactly. All I know is he means it, and that’s enough for me.

10

Archer

What did I do to deserve this? To wake up with this incredible woman in my arms?

Is this how normal men feel? Men who live out in that other world. I always figured this sort of thing was beyond me. For men better than me. Men who don’t kill as part of the family business.

Turns out even dark souls like mine can sometimes stumble across heaven.

That’s what this is. Having her next to me, wrapped in my embrace, her hair spilling over my chest like a gold curtain. How is her skin so soft? It doesn’t even feel real.

She wiggles a little when I run a hand down her back, snuggling closer with a soft groan. “That’s nice.”

“You’re nice. I could touch you forever.”

“I wouldn’t fight you.” She raises her head, propping her chin up on the forearm, resting on my chest. Her eyes are shining, her hair mussed thanks to the hours we spent exploring each other last night. It’ll be a miracle if she can walk without wincing today.

The moment doesn’t last long, and she frowns. “It’s a shame that’s not how real-life works.”

“Isn’t it?” When she starts to raise herself up like she’s getting out of bed, the arm I’ve wrapped around her waist holds her still. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“To work. Real-life doesn’t wait, Archer.”

“What’s this real-life you keep talking about? Isn’t this real? Right here, right now?”

“But I have to go.”

“Why?”

“Because I’ll lose my job if I don’t.” She blows out an exasperated sigh. “Look, it’s been great—better than great—but I can’t be here all the time. I have to leave eventually.”

“Why?”

“Why do you keep asking why? I’ll lose my job. I know it’s not much, but I need it. Those tips are—”

“Those tips are not even a fraction of what I can do for you. What do I have to say to make you understand? You don’t need to ever go back to that diner. Or the grocery store, or the gym, or that awful apartment.”

Her forehead creases when she frowns. “What if you change your mind? You barely know me. What if you decide you don’t want me anymore? Where would that leave me? On the street, without a job and not a penny to my name.”