Page 6 of Beneath the Light of the Moon
Cristiano continued, unaware of the other man’s thoughts. “But I agree, we should hurry before the line gets any longer.”
“You act like we don’t own the place—like we can’tcutthe line,” Mikko countered.
Cristiano shook his head as if Mikko was missing some obvious point. “Sometimes I like to pretend I’m a regular person.”
“By waiting in line?”
Cristiano nodded.
“While I commend you and your patience, you’ll never be normal with that shade of hair.”
“What did I say about making fun of me?” Cristiano chided before surging forward, and flipping Mikko off over his shoulder as he was left to stare at the atrocious color adorning his friend’s buzz cut. “It’s called beingspontaneous,you should try it sometime.”
Rolling his eyes, Mikko slipped through the door, the bouncer letting them pass easily. Both his and Cristiano’s faces were recognizable to many—a perk and a curse. Before the dimness of the club’s interior consumed him, a flash in his peripherals forced his ever watchful gaze to linger.
There, in line, was a woman; her tan skin glowed in the fadingcolors of the sunset, the city skyline unable to keep it from kissing along every exposed surface of her flesh. And even from this far, it looked soft and supple, a delicious place to set his rough hands.
Dark ink was etched across her shoulders, most of it hidden by the people she waited behind in line. Her ebony hair was styled, cascading over her shoulders in silky waves and a small section of it was blonde. It framed her face, the brightness against the onyx making him squint.
Like the colorful stripe on a poisonous creature, the contrast was meant to entice—to draw him in and force his eyes to pause.
But that wasn’t all.
Her eyes, pools of honeyed amber reminiscent of sunlight dappled whiskey, met his icy perusal.
And something dark slithered in his gut.
The bouncer ushered him along before he could dwell on it further, his intuition prickling in his stomach.
Why did it feel like her gaze had met his intentionally? And why did that pique his interest?
Cristianowasright, he didn’t get out.
3
Just a Touch
Mikko
The cool surface of the bar top kept Mikko grounded as people filed intoBubblegum. After leaving his helmet and jacket at the coat and purse check-in booth, both men had walked deeper into the club. Mikko had been intent on finding Ivan and starting the night off immediately, but just as he’d suspected, Cristiano had other plans. A friend had waved him over, his parting words to Mikko being something along the lines of, “I’ll be right back, don’t have too much fun without me, yeah?”
His silhouette had faded into the crowd before Mikko could protest.
Now, a snifter of vodka was clutched in his hand, the harsh burn of each sip keeping his anger at bay.For now.The bartenders here, or anywhere really, knew to give him something cheaper to make him grimace. It was a willing sacrifice he made to keep his wits about him in a setting such as this. In reality, he shouldn’t be drinking at all, but his hands needed something to do.
While Mikko envied his friend’s ability to let loose, he also valuedit. He was unable to ever unclench his jaw unless he resorted to substances to soften the razored edges life had given him.
We all have our vices,he supposed.
Speaking of which, somewhere below him, in the pits ofBubblegum, a certain someone was awaiting his unorthodox trial. Those rooms, dark and stuffy in their own right, were predominantly used for gambling as the news article had said, but Mikko’s men had retrofitted one in preparation for tonight’s activities.
Ivan was one of many people Mikko’s business dealt with. While they may appear as a savvy corporation, they spent their nights moonlighting and shuffling large sums of money around under the guise of real estate. Most months, Ivan flew under the radar, paying his dues as needed and keeping his nefarious habits out of the spotlight.
Until recently.
When the city news channels started circling like vultures, Mikko’s hair had prickled in irritation.
Staying out of the spotlight was the number one rule.
