Hot Tycoons Boxset: A Contemporary Romance Boxset Page 15

  Since I am still so scared of never being able to find my brother, his loss hits me particularly deep, and my eyes fill with tears. “I’m so sorry.”

  He looks alarmed to see me sniffling and gestures with his hands, “It was a long time ago.”

  I rub my eyes, trying to convince myself that Bryan won’t meet the same fate and feeling bad for Fergus since he still seems to be hurting from his sister’s loss. “I don’t cry like this. I’m sorry.”

  He looks uneasy, and when he moves to the other side of the bar, a part of me feels relieved. I don’t want him asking any questions about Bryan.

  I still have some fries left, and my milkshake is untouched, so I chew on the fries and keep my eyes on the door. However, every few minutes, my eyes wander over to where Fergus is handling customers.

  I haven’t dated for a long time.

  The last man I went out with was one of the teachers at the previous school I worked at. But there was nothing between us, so we ended up remaining friends.

  I am so deep in my thoughts that I nearly miss the tattoo that adorns the wrist of the man who came to stand next to me.

  A small snake with its forked tongue out.

  The mark of the Street Serpents.

  My heart races as I glance up at the man who is waiting for his beer.

  He glances down at me, noticing my stare, and then smirks. “Hello, sweetheart.”

  I opened my mouth to say something but a tray is set before us with a loud noise.

  Fergus has a hard look in his eyes. “I see you still haven’t settled your tab, Dominic. I would like it sorted out by today.”

  Dominic looks vaguely annoyed and embarrassed. “I told you I’m good for it.”

  Fergus crosses his arms over his chest, and his black button-up tightens, making me bite my lower lip. “I’m afraid your word isn’t going to be enough this time. And stop bothering the lady.”

  Dominic walks away, muttering under his breath, and I feel a twinge of annoyance. “He wasn’t bothering me.”

  Fergus glances at me, his eyes narrowed. “He’s not the kind of man a woman like you should be even looking at. His last two girlfriends ended up in the hospital.”

  I pale and look down at my plate.

  It’s not that I wanted his attention to begin with.

  I just want answers.

  3

  Fergus

  She is staring at Dominic again.

  She is trying to be discreet, but she isn’t fooling anyone. And that includes the low-level enforcer of the Street Serpents.

  He is sitting with some of his crewmates but he keeps glancing over at her, that familiar smirk on his lips that he wears like a brand. No doubt he thinks he is going to get lucky with the woman who can’t seem to take her eyes off of him.

  I study Sarah from the corner of my eye.

  What I find strange is that not once has she smiled at him. She is watching him like one would a predator, wariness radiating from her.

  Is she scared of him?

  It doesn’t seem like she is going to offer any information, so I decide to find out myself. Even as I approach her, I warn myself not to get dragged into this woman’s problems.

  And yet, I can’t resist.

  “So, do you know him?”

  My tone is casual, but Sarah jumps, her eyes widening in shock, and she stammers, “Uh, no. I was just–”

  She struggles with an excuse, and I raise a brow, waiting.

  “Ah, his tattoo. It is… I think it is interesting.”

  As she looks at me, we both know she is lying.

  My face grows dark. “He’s part of a local street gang. You shouldn’t be mixing yourself with the likes of them. His is a very dark world, Sarah.”

  I see the hesitation on her face, mixed with fear, but then it is replaced by stubbornness. “I’ll be fine. I’m not doing anything.”

  “Look, all I’m saying is–”

  “I didn’t ask for your help,” she says shortly, and I am more startled than offended by the anger in her tone.

  I back away, determined to keep Dominic away from her. I don’t know what she is up to, but she seems terrified of the man she is looking at, and yet doesn’t care that she captured his attention.

  My eyes don’t leave her form for too long. They keep going over to where she is sitting.

  Her hair is tied in a braid today, but strands keep escaping. I have the urge to tuck them back in, and I grit my teeth. I don’t understand my reaction to this woman. She isn’t even my type.

  The women I dated were more long-legged and slim-figured brunettes. They were more interested in my increasing success in the industry: the kind of women I had no guilt over having a good time with and then discarding.

  Sarah is the complete opposite of these women. Physically, she has curves that make my cock harden just thinking about them. Her height is short enough that if we are to stand next to each other, the top of her head would barely reach my shoulder. She has a more innocent outlook on life from what I can tell. There is an exuberance to her personality, an openness that I never experienced before.

  I wipe down the counter, frowning.

  Of course, this is just what I understand about her from a few conversations. I could be completely wrong, and she could be a sexual deviant for all I know.

  I glance at her again.

  Whatever she is, letting Dominic anywhere near her was something I can never allow. I have seen the marks on his girlfriends’ necks, the bruises on their arms, the hopelessness in their eyes.

  The glass I am wiping cracks under my grip and my lips thin as I toss it into the trash behind me.

  For some reason, just imagining that broken look in Sarah’s sheepishly smiling eyes infuriates me.

  So, when I see Dominic nudge one of his friends and gesture crudely towards Sarah, I have an urge to throw him out. But I hold back my desire and decide to inform the man that if he doesn’t clear his tab today, he is out.

  I feel a pair of eyes on me and look over to see Sarah staring at me, her face holding a small pout that makes me want to groan.

  Why does she affect me like this?

  Trying to be professional, I approach her. “Can I get you anything?”

  She fidgets with her fingers, a little nervous, and then blurts out, “I’m sorry.”

  I stare at her. “For what?”

  She fiddles with the small charm bracelet on her wrist, refusing to meet my eyes. “For being so rude to you when you were only looking out for me.”

  I nod.

  “That’s okay,” I reassure her.

  She looks at me, uncertain. When she sees the small smile on my face, her shoulders relax.

  “I’m not usually rude to people,” she confesses to me in a half-whisper.

  I shrug my shoulders. “You weren’t rude. You just told me to mind my own business, which is fair enough.”

  She opens her mouth and then closes it before trying again. “So, what do you do when you’re not bartending?”

  I can’t help but tease her. “Why, Sarah, are you trying to ask me out?”

  Then she blushes fiercely and shakes her head. “No, no! I was just curious! I mean, I think you’re very attractive, but I’m not… I mean to say, not that I wouldn’t–”

  I throw my head back and laugh.

  She is the cutest thing I have ever come across.

  “I am joking.”

  She makes a face at me, her cheeks still red. “That isn’t very nice.”

  “No, it isn’t.” I grin at her. “But then, I’m not a very nice person.”

  I lean on the counter, smirking. “So, you think I’m attractive, do you?”

  She rolls her eyes. “You’re passable.”

  “Nuh-uh.” I wag a finger at her. “You told me you found me attractive.”

  “I was trying to be nice.” She laughs at me, making me crack a grin. “And you didn’t answer my question.”

  “I’ll answer your question.
” I tilt my head. “If you answer one of mine.”

  She nods. “Fair enough.”

  “Well, when I’m not bartending, I do some other small odd jobs.”

  I don’t want to tell her I own a chain of restaurants and bars. For some reason, I don’t want her to see the businessman. Most women, when they find out, their attitudes change; they will suddenly become more attentive, more charming.

  No, I want this school teacher to see the down-on-his-luck Irish bartender rather than the businessman who attends functions and parties and rubs elbows with the elite.

  Her face turns thoughtful. “I used to do a lot of odd jobs before I landed this one. I once did night shifts at this small twenty-four-seven cafe. The pay was great, although after one in the morning, the people who showed up were just weird.”

  “How old were you?” I find myself asking.

  “This was two years ago,” she tells me, and her brow furrows. “Ah, I think I was twenty-five. Bryan had to study for his entrance exam, so I wouldn’t let him work.”

  “You’re very close with your brother,” I comment.

  The same pained expression crosses her face that I saw the other day and I wonder what that is about.

  However, she tries to smile. “Yeah. I raised him. We only have a few years between us, but I’ve always taken care of him.”

  “What about you?” I ask, softly.

  “What about me?” she asks, puzzled.

  “Who takes care of Sarah?”

  She is quiet for a few moments and then gives me a sweet smile. “Sarah takes care of Sarah.”

  I know she is trying to joke about it, but my chest tightens.

  “You look serious,” she says, her smile fading.

  I move my head, shaking off the sudden feeling. “Tell me something.”

  She becomes comfortable on her stool, and her eyes look at me expectantly.

  I want to ask her the real reason she is coming to visit this bar for the past few days, but I have a feeling I won’t get the truth out of her, so I decide on a different question. “Be honest: are you here to pick up guys?”

  She laughs liked I intended for her to, and she shakes her head. “No!”

  I make a disappointed sound. “Well, there goes my dream of getting picked up by you.”

  She flushes again, but this time she is on to me. “Nobody ever picks up the bartender.”

  I waggle my eyebrows. “Do you know why that is?”

  She leans closer for my answer. “Why?”

  My voice is low, “Because the bartender is the only sober one in the bar.”

  She blinks. “I don’t get it.”

  I sigh. “I had a feeling you wouldn’t. I’m still working on that joke.”

  Hearing someone call out to me, I turn around to take their order. I haven’t been gone for five minutes, but when I come back, I see Dominic standing next to Sarah, one hand on her leg.

  Sarah looks uncomfortable, but she makes no effort to remove the hand and even through the anger that burns in me, I wonder why that is.

  “Dom, this is your last fucking warning,” I growl at him. “Hands off the lady or I remove them altogether.”

  However, the younger man isn't perturbed or even slightly insulted.

  “My bad,” he says cheerfully and walks back to his seat.

  I catch the excited gleam in his eye.

  “You okay?” I ask Sarah.

  She nods, looking a little uncomfortable. “He was just asking my name. Flirting, I think.”

  I look over to where Dominic sits with his friends, a satisfied look on his face as he watches Sarah, and I clench my fist.

  The only reason that shitfaced bastard isn’t out on his ass right now is because Agatha explicitly warned me not to pick a fight with this particular gang. Not that it should matter since this isn’t exactly their turf.

  Sarah looks uneasy. “It’s getting late. I think I should leave.”

  She takes out her wallet, and despite how serious the situation is, I can’t help but smile at how she takes out five dollars extra and puts it in the tip jar.

  Her ears are red. “I know how tiring it is to do all those odd jobs. I always appreciated tips. It’s not that I’m pitying you or anything. That’s just for, you know, I would have liked people to leave me more tips.”

  She is babbling now, and I stop her with a touch to her hand. “You didn’t have to but thank you.”

  I don’t need that money.

  But I know that five-dollar bill will be folded up neatly in my wallet after she leaves, never to be spent.

  She is kind. And sweet. And so very innocent.

  She quickly finishes her drink and walks out, and I stare after her, wondering what this strange sensation in my chest is.

  Before I can pick up her glass, I am immediately distracted by another customer.

  It takes me a while to notice that Dominic and his group are missing.

  I stare at their empty seats for a few seconds before I motion to the server who was looking after them. “When did the people at that table leave?”

  The server frowns, trying to remember. “Ten minutes ago?”

  Ten minutes?

  Five minutes after Sarah.

  I grab my jacket. “Tell Felix to take over. I’m heading out.”

  “Yes, sir,” the bewildered waiter nods and jumps out of my way.

  The air outside is chilly enough to bite, and I hope Sarah came in a car.

  I know I could be wrong, and Dominic could have just left for no particular reason. But I know him. He stays till the late hours with his drinking buddies.

  No.

  He followed Sarah out.

  My car is parked on the side of the building, and I hop in, dialing Agatha’s number.

  “I’m busy,” she says, shortly.

  “Well, this is urgent,” I tell her. “What’s the address of the woman that got hurt in my bar? Sarah?”

  “Why? What’s wrong?” she asks, her voice serious.

  “Agatha, just tell me. I think she’s in trouble. I’ll answer questions later,” I say tersely.

  After a moment’s pause, she rattles off an address that is not exactly walking distance, but near enough to reach by car.

  “Do you know if she owns a car or something?” I ask, turning the engine on.

  Agatha hesitates. “Uh, yeah, I think she does. But she said something about it being in the shop.”

  Fuck!

  I cut the call and quickly take the shortcut that would be used by someone who is walking to that building.

  It is quite dark, and I have to struggle to see anything, but after a few minutes of driving, I see three or four figures huddled around something.

  Or someone.

  I turn my car lights on them, making them turn to look at me. Sticking the car lock on the horn to keep it blasting, I jump out of the car.

  The loud noise makes the four men scatter like deer, just as I rush out of the car.

  Sarah lays on the ground.

  “Oh, shit!” Reaching her in two large steps, I help her up. “What the fuck happened?”

  She stumbles. “Ah, there was… They wanted – talk. My ears!”

  I guide her stumbling form to the car and pull off the lock from the horn.

  In the silence that follows, I give her a once over to make sure she is unharmed. Then, her behavior registers for me. “Are you drunk?”

  She giggles and then sways, forcing me to catch her. “My head feels weird.”

  How could she be drunk when she didn’t have anything alcoholic?

  Dominic.

  Rage floods my veins.

  That bastard slipped her something.

  “I want to go home,” she mumbles, her arms around my neck.

  I debate leaving her at her place. But her being alone in this state doesn’t feel right to me.

  Her building is five minutes from here by car, so I strap her in.

  “Where are we going?” she slurs.
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  My jaw is taut with anger. “I’m taking you to your apartment.”

  She mumbles something under her breath, and then turns to look at me, her pupils dilated, and I know whatever she had is very strong.

  I am trying not to think of what would have happened had I not gone after her.

  “You’re sad.”

  “What?” I say, startled.

  “Your eyes are sad,” Sarah tells me, her voice thick. “Pretty and sad.”

  I don’t say anything for a few seconds. “You need to sleep this off.”

  She turns her head to the side, and this time I hear the tears in her voice. “I’m sad, too. And I’m scared.”

  Frowning, I put my free hand on her arm. “You’ll be–”

  “What if something happens to Bryan? It’s been three weeks. I just want him to be okay.”

  Wait, what?

  “What do you mean? Sarah?”

  Her head drops forward, making me curse and swerve the car.

  “Damn it!”

  Stopping the car, I make sure she is buckled in tightly.

  Breathing hard, I stare at her sleeping form. “You weren’t kidding when you said you couldn’t hold any alcohol.”

  Although this might not be alcohol.

  Reaching her building, it takes me a few minutes of struggling with her and trying to find her keys before I can get her to her apartment.

  Switching on the lights in her apartment, I am assaulted by a loud splash of color. From the sofas to the carpet, loud, cheerful tones decorate everything, and despite the situation, I can’t help but think how it fits her personality.

  I am carrying her in my arms, and Sarah shifts, making me grip her tighter in case she gets it in her head to do any sudden acrobatics.

  “Okay,” I mutter to myself. “If I were Sarah’s room, where would I be?”

  Grinning at my joke, I pick the first room I see and blink at how tastefully it is done up. A small bed in the corner with a faded blanket. A study table in the corner with piles of books. A long couch against the wall with some clothes folded neatly on it.

  The poster of some band above the bed tells me this is most probably not Sarah’s room.

  I step out and head towards the next room.