The pause in his speaking makes his threat crystal clear. I don’t need to look to know that each of the guards are on high alert, ready to handle us if there’s a problem. Or just at Dominick’s say-so.
Shane and Dominick stare each other down for a moment, the testosterone and dominance contest drawing out between the two of them for too long, so I break in, hoping to deter the two alpha males from locking horns until one of them’s dead. “Dominick, I would like to apologize for lying to you.”
My words aren’t totally unplanned. It was one of the many different scenarios that Shane and I went over, a way to keep Dominick off balance and willing to listen.
The shock of my admitting to lying does exactly what we hoped, and Dominick’s attention diverts solely to me, his eyes now boring into mine with his eyebrows raised in question. “Meghan, you lied to me? Explain.”
I start rambling, trying to get out the whole prepared speech at once. “My name is not Meghan. It’s Maggie Postland. In certain circles, Petals has a reputation. Apparently, it has several. But I was only aware of one . . . I didn’t know what Petals was, what you are. I just knew that celebrities of a certain caliber frequent the club for a bit of fun. I work as a tabloid reporter, writing stories strictly about celebrities. I began my job at Petals as a way of investigating these stories and wrote articles a few times.”
My eyes tick to Allie, who looks like I just slapped her across the face. I focus on her, the next words not important to Dom, but I insisted on them with Shane. “But while I worked here, I found friends and a place of belonging, a family that worked together, day-by-day and shift-by-shift, to look out for one another. I found a self-confidence and power I never knew I possessed. It hurt every day to lie to them, because I care about them very much.”
I look back to Dominick, who’s leaning forward a little, interested now. “I didn’t know exactly how deep the rabbit hole runs around here, and honestly, right now, I don’t care. My concern now is the trouble chasing me, trouble brought because I’m a part of the Petals family.”
Dominick’s eyes have gotten colder as I’ve spoken, and I can see the muscle in his jaw working as he clenches his teeth. His voice is a deadly whisper, but at least he’s not yelling as he looks around at the guards. “A fucking reporter? How the fuck did you get past the background check?”
I shrug, downplaying my awesomeness because it doesn’t seem the time to brag about how many times I’ve successfully gone undercover. “I’m good at my job. Please feel free to take a moment to Google me. I promise, you’ll see I’ve only written a couple of stories that relate to celebrities attending strip clubs, and I never mention Petals by name.”
He holds up a finger, reaching into his vest pocket with his other hand and fishing out his phone. He clicks around for a moment, and I speak up helpfully. “The only one that probably would’ve caught your attention is the Jimmy Keys story.”
Dominick laughs, setting his phone down. “You broke that story? That guy’s a total douchebag, tried to stiff me on the bill too. I was glad he got busted . . . but not in my damn club.”
His voice is hard again by the end, and my momentary hope that maybe he wouldn’t be too mad, at least about that part of our revelations, are crushed.
I lower my eyes, unable to help it because I know there’s worse news coming. “Dominick, please. There’s more.”
He huffs, sitting up as Allie lays a hand on his shoulder, helping to calm him. He glances at her and nods, waving a hand at me. “It’s your show, apparently. Tell me.”
I glance at Shane, but he gives me a reassuring nod. I’m doing fine. Keep going. “So, the night of the shooting . . .”
I see Allie flinch and give her a soft smile of apology for bringing up something that must be scary for her to think about. “That night, I was in the hallway after delivering the scotch, so I saw the hitman. I don’t think he even registered me at the time. I’m just kinda invisible to most folks.”
I shrug because it’s the truth, but Shane squeezes my hand, and I know he sees me. He always sees me, and it gives me the strength to continue.
“But yesterday, when Shane and I were lying low, the hitman found us. He’s tracking me, tying up loose ends because somewhere along the way, he realized I’d seen him and could recognize him.”
Dominick steeples his hands, fingertips pressing together under his chin. “And this hitman chasing you, you want me to do something about it, I take it?”
I nod, the plea in my eyes. “Please, Dominick. Help us.”
“Tell me, Maggie Postland,” Dominick says, leaning forward again and studying the both of us. “The suit with the scotch. Do you know who he was?”
“I didn’t then, but I do now,” I admit. “Carlos Rivaldi. This is where Shane comes in, I think.”
Dominick looks to Shane, annoyance and anger clearly written on his face. “It appears you’ve been tagged. You’re it.”
Shane holds Dominick’s glare with steady eyes before beginning. “Dominick, I want you to take a minute and think back on the time I’ve been working for you . . . the things I’ve done, the things I’ve seen, the things I’ve told you.”
Dominick smiles, but it feels threatening, not friendly. “Yes, we have done some rather interesting things in your time here. And until this little incident, I thought you were a fine employee, one of the best I had. But what’s that got to do with this?”
“Have the guys step out for this. Just you and me, and the girls. Trust me. Please.”
They seem to be communicating with their eyes, taking each other’s measure, but I think it’s the ‘please’ that does it.
Dominick turns, his voice clear and sharp as he looks at the guards. “Leave us. Secure the building perimeter.”
The security guys disappear at once, and I hear both the front and back doors open, then close. Dominick waits, then looks back at Shane. “Okay, we’re alone. Out of respect for what you’ve done and the honor you’ve shown toward all the ladies who work here, I did that. Don’t make me regret it. Now tell me what’s so important.”
Shane nods and leans forward, his elbows wide on the table as he looks at Dominick. “Approximately twelve months ago, word on the street was that Sal Rivaldi was making progress, increasing the size of his operation, but doing it quietly and in small pocket areas that are only loosely in your control. The way things were looking, he was positioning himself to divide East Robinsville, or maybe take over the whole city.”
Dominick leans forward, his eyes intense. “And you know this how?”
Shane looks Dominick in the eye. There is no fear, no hesitancy, no apology on Shane’s face. “Because I’m FBI.”
Dominick explodes, standing so fast his chair clatters to the floor behind him as he slams his hands to the table. Allie and I jump at the sharp sound.
Shane stands too, holding his ground as Dominick stalks around the table to grab him by the shirt. Dominick rears back for a punch and Shane doesn’t try to block him, just keeps his voice level. “There’s more . . .”
Dominick pauses, and I think for a second that he’s not going to punch Shane in the face. But he redirects the punch to Shane’s gut, the powerful hit echoing in the empty room.
Allie cries out as Dom rears back again, and I can’t sit here and let this happen, so I yell, “Dominick, Sal’s declaring war! You have to listen!”
Dominick’s head whips to me, one fist cocked back and frozen. “I thought you didn’t know anything about that side of the business? Hmm, Miss Postland?” he sneers. “Or is that another lie?”
I’m trying to be strong, but I know my voice sounds weaker than I’d like as I stand up to him. “I didn’t before. I do now. I’ve spent the past twenty-four hours learning so I can try to stay alive. Please listen.”
He shoves Shane back, letting go of his shirt, and both men slowly sit, wary of each other.