Ruthless Spring

She removes her hand and aims a smile at Dave as he places the drinks on the bar. "I've got to go clock in, but get me some shots of Patron going, Davey-boy," she tells him as she disappears into the back hall.

My heart feels heavy in my chest and my skin is warmer than it should be. I press my lips together before taking a deep breath. My hands feel a little shaky as I pick up my tray, but I try not to let it show, keeping my back straight as I make my way over to my table. I pass around the drinks before moving on to my next table, pushing thoughts of webs and corners away.

I know they'll return later, but for now I can pretend that I'm just a regular girl busting her ass off waitressing to save up for some higher goal, some way out of the trenches.

Yeah fucking right.

Time flies by and before I know it, the night is starting to wind down. Another hour and it'll be closing time.

And I'll be forced back to my golden cage.

Despite it being close to closing time, the club is just as full as it was when it opened. Getting into Delirium is hard, the high-end club well in demand. The regulars are all high rollers, I've learned from the tips that they leave. Plus, with the privilege they reek of and the way they take liberties that don't belong to them, it isn't hard to guess that they’re mostly white-collar or something more illegal, like the Costa Family.

"Just another round?" I ask as I take orders from one of my regular tables. They aren't the worst, but they aren't my favorite either and I try to be quick.

"You know the deal, doll," the man sitting closest to me says. A crooked grin spreads across his lips as he watches me. Even though I try to miss the hand reaching out for me, used to the routine, he still manages to graze my leg. I grit my teeth and turn around, moving to the bar with my gaze focused on the ground.

I bump into someone, pain shooting through my sternum. My gaze snaps up as my cheeks grow warm and I rub at my chest.

"I'm sorry," I say quickly, and I try to step back but a hand wraps around my wrist, jerking it away from my chest. My body goes cold as I look up, finding a man staring at me with hard eyes.

His black hair is pulled back, exposing a tattooed neck and face, his brown eyes never moving away from my face. But what has my heart racing in my chest is the hard press of metal into my abdomen.

I look down, confirming that he's holding a gun.

My eyes snap back up to his.

His Spanish accent is clear and thick as he speaks. "You didn't think being Costa's girl was going to let you off the hook for killing one of ours, did you, perra?"