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The normal clientele of the Java Jive was soccer moms and harried workers trying to grab enough caffeine to stay awake as they headed to their soul-destroying jobs.
This man didn't look like either.
Joey couldn't help but feel a flutter in his stomach as he looked at the man. He had never been attracted to someone so dangerous-looking before, but there was something undeniably alluring about him.
If all his regulars looked like this, Joey's workday might be a little nicer.
The man's dark hair was slicked back, and his piercing blue eyes swept over the room, taking in every detail. Joey felt his cheeks flush as the man's gaze landed on him, and he quickly looked away, feeling self-conscious.
He shook off the feeling and forced a smile. "Hi there! What can I get for you today?"
"I'm looking for Joey Moore."
Hearing his name fall from the stranger's lips sent a jolt through Joey's chest, causing his heart to race. He tried to maintain a professional demeanor, but his hands trembled ever so slightly.
The hell? Why would this man be asking for him? It was impossible. They'd never met before—Joey would remember, that was for sure.
This wasn't the sort of man who came to the Java Jive.
But… thiswasthe sort of man that Joey was used to seeing somewhere else.
When he hauled his dad out of gambling dens and shady casinos at night. When men came knocking at their door, with messages for his dad…
Yeah, that was one situation where he did see men like these.
Joey's eyes narrowed. "That's me," he responded, trying to keep his voice steady. "Can I help you with something?"
"I'm Marco. Marco King." The man—Marco—removed his sunglasses, revealing piercing gray eyes that seemed to see straight into Joey's soul. "We need to talk. Privately."
Crap. That wasn't good. "Is my dad okay?"
"Depends on what you mean by fine." Marco jerked his head to the side, out of the store."Let's talk."
Somewhere private, Joey thought.Somewhere I can get shaken down—or worse.
But what option did he have?
"Alright," Joey agreed reluctantly, casting a nervous glance at his coworkers, who were watching the exchange with concern. If this man was trouble, he didn't want him around the regulars. "Just give me a moment."
He stepped away from the counter and led Marco out the coffee shop, and into the alley around the corner. With every step, Joey tried to ignore the pounding of his heart and the creeping dread that filled his mind. Marco followed his steps like a big, looming shadow.
"Look," Joey started as soon as they'd turned the corner, swallowing hard, "is my dad… is he hurt or not?"
His dad was a mess. He'd driven Joey's Mom away, and spent every penny that he ever got his hands on, and he could never say no to a bet…
…But he was still Joey's dad. That had to mean something.
Marco looked him up and down. "Right now, you're more concerned about your dad than yourself?"
Joey glared up at him. "Answer me."
"He's not hurt. He's just made… certain choices." Marco's eyes narrowed for a moment, studying Joey intently. "I work for the Toscano mafia family. I've been sent here to collect you."
"Collect me?" Joey's voice wavered, his pulse quickening. "For what?"
"Your father," Marco said, his tone now somber, "has accumulated quite the gambling debt with our organization. And now, the collateral that he's offered… is you. You're coming with me."
A mixture of disbelief, anger, and fear washed over Joey. Memories of his father, always hidden away behind closed doors, whispering into the phone at all hours of the night...
