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Killian laughed. “Did she fuck it up, Dahlia?”
Dahlia shook her head. “No.”
It was clear Keely didn’t remember her. It made sense. The night would be more memorable for Dahlia. She’d gotten a ride home from Ryder, a member of Ghosttown East, and waited while he made a stop at the club. At that point, Dahlia had been on the waiting list for an interview at the Bowery. A few months seemed excessive, but she was willing to wait. During her brief conversation with Keely that night she found out the young girl got hired immediately. Now she knew why. But at the time, Dahlia had taken it personally, as if Trey didn’t want to allow her an interview.
“You were having trouble with a Lemon Drop, and I…”
Keely grabbed her wrist, laughing. “Oh my God. Yes. You told me how to make it. I remember you.” Her eyes widened. “And then you gave me a twenty-dollar tip when Trey refused to let you pay for your drink.” She laughed, peered around the room, and lowered her voice. “He was so pissed!”
I remember, and so does he.
“Did he let you keep the twenty?” Dahlia asked.
Her face brightened. “At first, I didn’t think he would, so I went to put it in the register, but he stopped me and said it was my tip to keep.”
Undercover good guy?
They spoke another few minutes until a whole slew of staff entered the club and started setting up. Dahlia was nervous and repeated all her duties in her head, hoping her first day wouldn’t be her last. She was behind the bar, lining up the last of the glasses, when she felt an undeniable heat wash over her, and she looked up. It was beyond strange. Dahlia hadn’t even seen Trey walk in. It was as if she’d sensed him.
He was standing at the bottom landing of the balcony, speaking with a member of security. Trey nodded and said something, to which the man gave a sharp nod. Dahlia was so entranced watching him that she hadn’t even realized he looked over until it was too late. His dark eyes peered back at her, and she felt her lips twitch seconds away from smiling, but she remembered quickly she wasn’t allowed any contact with him. Dahlia dropped her chin to her chest, grabbed a handful of napkins, and spun around, walking to the other side of the bar.
She wasn’t even officially working yet, and she was already breaking the rules. Dahlia stacked the napkins and slipped out of Misti’s way when she turned. But she was careful to keep her back to the balcony. How was she supposed to work if all her thoughts were consumed by this man?
Her answer came forty minutes later. Once the club opened, she had little time to think about anything.
Killian wasn’t lying!
****
Trey had spent most of the night in his office and away from the club scene. It was a purposeful move. It seemed he hadn’t anticipated Dahlia invading his space to be an issue until now.
Trey rounded his desk, grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair, and slipped it on as he made his way through his office to the door. He looked down at his watch. He had about forty-five minutes to get to the location for the gun transport with Stark.
Trey walked out the door, and immediately his security fell in line, Jared walking beside him. Trey didn’t trust many people, but Jared had proven his loyalty over the years.
“The car is waiting. By my estimate, we should be there ten minutes early,” Jared said.
“And by your estimate, when will Rogue arrive?”
Jared cleared his throat. “Twelve minutes late.”
Trey sighed. “We should be so lucky. I’d say twenty.”
Jared nodded, and he noticed a small hitch in the corner of his mouth.
The Underground was a world of business relationships. There was very little personal life or commingling. Everyone had a job, a dangerous one. There was little time and no place for personal lives. However, working with people day after day, especially in their line of work, took a certain level of trust. Jared had Trey’s, within reason. Unlike Rogue, who viewed almost all those under him as mere employees, Trey had a more personal connection with a select few. Jared being one of them. Trey knew some things that wouldn’t be found in a background check or resume. Jared had a small circle of people in his private life that very few knew about.
Trey veered to the right, heading toward the balcony. He had his choice of three exits, and there wasn’t a reason to go through the club—until tonight.
Trey walked to the balcony, scanning the floor. It was a solid night, typical for a Friday. Weekends always brought in the most cash. They were the busiest and most lucrative. Not that it really mattered for Trey. This wasn’t where he made his money. The Bowery was a mere front as a legitimate legal business to cover all their illegal entities.
Trey looked down at the main bar. Killian and Misti worked it most nights as the most seasoned bartenders. It was the most crowded and the largest. Usually, their barback had months of training in the club and had been employed for at least nine months. Not her.
Dahlia was moving in and around the two bartenders effortlessly as if she was anticipating their every move. When Misti spun around quickly for a glass, it was ready and waiting courtesy of Dahlia. There was a small exchange between the women. Misti, who wasn’t known for her warmth, seemed to lighten and even offer a small smile to Dahlia. That was a first. Dahlia said something, rushed back to the wall of liquor, and shifted her attention between the two bartenders.
“How many are you taking?” Jared asked.
“Six.” Trey didn’t travel with as much security as Rogue and Oz except during transports. He checked the time again. They’d have to leave now if they wanted to get there a little earlier. It was always best to be first at the location and watch everyone roll in to catch any potential risks.
