Page 11 of Isaac

"Surprised to see you here," Jessica shouts over the music, shattering my focus. She slides over to the corner of the bar where I'm hiding and grins up at me.

In her hands, she cradles a half-constructed mojito—a tangy splash of mint, rum, and lime that emanates an intoxicating aroma through the smoky air. Her hair is bright red, a living thing gathered into an unruly ponytail.

An unassuming person could probably never guess this tiny ray of sunshine shares blood with Jeremy.

They are nothing alike.

Frankly, we both prefer she doesn't work at the club at all, but Jeremy has enemies. This is the best place for him to keep an eye on his little sister. So, I go along with it, even her innocent flirting.

She's doing it again right now. Flashing me that cute smile she reserves only for a selected few.

I raise my half-empty glass at her but don't return the smile. Don't want her to get the wrong idea. Leading someone on isn't me.

But the woman is relentless in her pursuit. She either doesn't get it or refuses to give up altogether. It's tiring. Still I don't want to offend her. So, we continue skirting around the subject without really addressing the proverbial elephant in the china shop.

Maybe one day she'll get bored and move on.

She’s amazing but I can't give her what she wants. I don't have it in me. Prison made sure to suck all the good out of me I had when I went in. I'm hollow on the inside. Sometimes, there are memories and sometimes there's anger. But there's no love, no affection, no understanding.

"Want to me refill that for you?" Jessica asks, gesturing at my glass.

"Nah." I shake my head. "I'm good."

"Hey, boss," one of my security guards calls out, emerging from behind the wall of bodies. "Someone from the casino wanted to know if you have the time."

Reluctantly tearing my gaze away from Hawk, I ask, "They say what they want?"

"Just that Georgie wants to see you about some authorized business in Eclipse."

"Alright." I down the rest of my drink. "Let's not keep Georgie waiting." I leave the empty glass on the counter and head to the casino.

As we make our way through the dark, neon-filled club, from the corner of my eye, I catch another glimpse of Hawk. He's standing in the corner, melted into the shadows, almost invisible. His tall, lean frame fills out that black suit just right.And when the dancing light jumps over the spot he is occupying, his features almost beg me to memorize them. Each and every indentation and curve.

What the actual fuck?

I tell myself to stay sharp and as I navigate the chaos, a mantra that binds me to this life, this dangerous game of power and control.

But there's unease in my chest. Unease I don't experience often because I don't experience things in general.

I'm immune to the common swings of emotion.

But today?

Today is different.

The symphony of a thousand slot machines becomes comforting background static, far from my usual taste but exactly the distraction I need right now.

The musky scent of timeworn smoke greets me as if it's an entity of its own; a faithful pet that's more loyal to this casino floor than any of its fleeting patrons. It's coupled with the screams of excitement. Or disappointment. Eclipse is a stark contrast to the frenetic energy of Purgatory and typically I don't care for it, but tonight anything goes just to keep my mind off my new hire.

Besides, I'm sensing Georgie has more news to keep my stupid brain occupied.

The Fat Fuck is already expecting me in his office, an untouched cigar resting in the ashtray next to him.

"Cuz." He greets me with a handshake, all business. "Thanks for meeting me on short notice."

He flaps his beefy hand toward the leather chair opposite him, but I respectfully decline. Anxiety gnawing at my insides won't let me stay still for long anyway.

"Of course, Georgie." I tip my chin and watch his face, waiting for more. I hate his fucking theatrics. "I hope you got something for me and this better be good."

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