Last Man Standing. Wendy Rosnau
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one of those businesses was the Shedd.
Tonight Lucky had come to the exotic bar to check out his property and to meet Jackson Ward. It was after ten, and Jacky was late. His friend hadn’t been too excited about being called out this time of night. Lucky didn’t blame him. Sunni Blais was one beautiful woman, and knowing Jackson the way he did, Jacky most likely had answered his cell phone in a prone position with his lovely fiancée snuggled next to him.
He glanced around the bar. Noted that the loud music and the near-naked dancers were keeping the bar packed and the men drinking. It was funny how fast things changed, Lucky mused. A month ago Milo was strutting through the Shedd playing big shot and now he was dead, and Vito had a new son—on paper, anyway.
He made eye contact with Melody. She smiled and gave him an I-know-how-to-make-you-feel-a-whole-lot-better look. That look reminded Lucky she was a professional off the catwalk, as well as on, and as the new owner of the establishment, getting to know what made each one of his employees tick wouldn’t only be smart, it could be entertaining.
He finished his drink, deciding Melody would have to wait. Jackson would show soon. But maybe afterward he’d see if the dancer was still around.
His glass had been refilled for the third time when he saw her. He wasn’t drunk, so he knew she wasn’t a mirage. Still, he glanced down at the amber liquor in his glass, wondering if someone had slipped him a little surprise. But even as he considered it, his gaze went back to the shadowy entrance where the neon sign over the door was putting a rosy tint in Elena Palazzo’s cheeks.
She looked left, then right. Scanned the bar. When their eyes met and locked, he watched her slip through the crowd, her shiny black hair moving around her slender shoulders.
She wasn’t dressed to be noticed, but that didn’t stop the men from taking a second look. She had an angel’s face, and a walk that would make a man follow her to hell and back on his knees, dragging a dead horse. It was the combination of innocence and that walk that had kick started his own fantasies about her weeks ago.
He’d been around plenty of beautiful women over the years, but Grace’s daughter had it all. Everything. Too much of everything, he decided as his gaze focused on her V-neck white fuzzy sweater and the damn fine job it did of framing her assets.
He raised his glass to his lips, his gaze shifting to where her sweater ended and her pants began. The pants were the color of caramel and rode low on her curvy hips. Low enough for every man to see the shiny gold ring in her navel.
It occurred to him as he glanced around the room that every horny bastard in the place was anticipating Elena taking it all off on the catwalk; that she was assumed to be a dancer looking for a job.
Only they both knew she wasn’t there to work the crowd. She was there to work…him.
She kept walking—no, floating was a better word—toward him, a lightweight black leather jacket tucked under her arm. Six feet away, she licked her full red lips and tossed her head. Two feet from him, she stopped and cleared her throat.
Then it came, the sexiest voice he’d ever heard—the one that had branded him from the moment they’d been formally introduced at Santa Palazzo two weeks ago. “In a bar with a drink in your hand. How original.”
Lucky slid off the barstool, drained his third Scotch, then spun the empty glass back onto the bar. “What are you doing here?”
“We need to talk.”
“You could have called. Both my number and Joey’s are always with…” Lucky glanced around, rephrased what he’d been about to say. Frank was supposed to be dead. He couldn’t very well claim that a dead man had his son’s phone number. “You can reach me day and night at that number.”
“Listen, you…you know why I didn’t call. Here, or someplace private?”
“How did you know where to find me?”
She glanced at the empty glass. “It wasn’t hard. My first stop was the Stardust at Masado Towers. When I didn’t find you there, the bartender mentioned a few places not far from your house. I just happened to see this place—” she glanced at Melody “—and thought it looked like you.” Her eyes found him once more. “You might say fate has dropped me in your lap.”
Elena’s sexy backside appeared in Lucky’s mind, and he would have liked nothing better than her seated on his lap. Keeping his thoughts to himself, he asked, “Was it Jimmy at the Stardust who gave you my home address?”
“I already had your home address. I found it in the black book. Listen, you…” She took a step closer. “I’m not as ingenuo as I look, so let’s stop playing games and get to it.”
“That means what, exactly?”
“It means I didn’t come all this way to count snow-flakes and share a drink with you in some sleazy bar. I’m here for the truth, and I’m sure you know what I’m talking about.”
The bravado she was trying to sell him didn’t match the way her hands nervously rubbed her slender thighs. He liked her hands, her small fingers and tiny unpainted nails. He also liked the fact that she didn’t wear a lot of jewelry or a pound of makeup.
But then, she didn’t need to. She was her mother’s daughter. As beautiful as a midnight star and twice as bright. She was the sea witch, after all.
He shifted in hopes that the pain in his lower back would ease, and that the straining going on inside his jeans didn’t accidentally move the safety off his .22 and blow him to hell and back.
He said, “You shouldn’t be here.”
“Here, as in here—” she eyed the men staring at her, then glanced at Melody again, who was now on all fours, her backside rolling with the music in a circular motion that had netted her several more green bills tucked into her G-string “—or are you talking about here, as in the big bad city of Chicago, where crime never sleeps?”
Without intending to, Lucky found himself grinning, enjoying her wit as much as her sexy voice. But it was short-lived as Moody Trafano eased off his barstool and started toward them.
Like the other men, Moody had been watching Elena since she’d entered the bar. It was no secret that Trafano had a healthy appetite for pretty women, or that he spent more time on his back at the Shedd than sitting at the bar.
As he closed the distance, Lucky reached out and slid his arm around Elena’s trim waist and hauled her into his space. “We’re getting company,” he whispered. “Be careful what you say. Don’t get that pretty mouth of yours in trouble. Say nothing about who you are or why you’re here.”
Lucky’s nose brushed her silky cheek, noting that her skin felt as soft and smooth as satin. He couldn’t pinpoint her unusual scent, but he didn’t need to name it to know he liked it.
She looked up at him with her catlike gold eyes just as Moody said, “You must be the new dancer we’ve all been expecting. My name’s Moody Trafano, the soon-to-be owner of the Shedd. And you are?”
Elena held Lucky’s gaze for a few seconds longer, then slowly turned around. She’d said she wasn’t naive, but Lucky was sure she’d never dealt with a snake quite as slippery as Moody.
In a single glance Elena took Moody’s measure, but didn’t offer him her name. Good girl, Lucky thought. So far so good.
“You’ve got to be the most beautiful doll in this place,” Moody complimented her. “And there’s plenty here to compete with.” His eyes left Elena’s face to ogle the tanned swell of her breasts, then settled on her flat stomach and the gold ring in her navel. “How long have you been dancing?”
He raised his hand as if he couldn’t control the urge to touch her a moment longer. Like a bulldog protecting his bone, Lucky grabbed Moody’s wrist and squeezed. “I never share, Trafano. I never learned how. Get lost.”
Moody wrenched his arm away. “She’s