I’ve tried my best to steer clear of Uncle Dom and his associates, but when I couldn’t get financing for the first bar after college, he helped me out. The problem is, getting help from Uncle Dom always comes with a price.
Almost a decade later, I’m still paying for his “generosity” with favors I would rather not do.
“Shit.” I drop my head into my hands and groan in frustration. “Why can’t anything go right this week?”
“I don’t know, man. One of us really must have done something to piss off the big guy upstairs.”
No shit.
“Well, given your track record, I’m betting it was you.”
He grins and flips me off.
Unfortunately, Gabe’s right. Dom is the only one with connections to get us what we need fast. I reach for the phone and reluctantly dial. It rings three times before I hear him pick up.
“Well, well, well…Mr. Hawke, to what do I owe the pleasure?” There’s a knowledge and a smugness in his voice, knowing I’m calling him because I need something. The man revels in holding things over people, and it frankly wouldn’t surprise me if he had orchestrated the beer shortage just so I would need his help and would owe him a favor. Of course, I will never call him out on it, even if I knew it to be true. I don’t have a death wish.
“Hey, Dom. I’m hoping you can help me out with something. I am in a bit of a jam.”
I can practically see his grin at knowing I’m about to ask for another favor.
“Of course, son, what do you need?”
I despise when he calls me “son.” It is as much an insult to my father as it is to me but I need his help, so I bite back my anger before I answer.
“Beer, lots of it. Our supplier flaked on us this afternoon and we’re almost out with a busy weekend fast approaching.”
Dom laughs on the other end and I can picture him, his head tipped back, smug smile on his face knowing I will owe him big time after this. “No problem, Savage, I can have it there within the hour.”
Relief washes over me at the averted disaster, but my gut clenches at his next words.
“You’ll owe me.”
Being told “you’ll owe me” by a man like Dom Abello doesn’t mean you’ll give him a ride to the airport, or pick up his dry cleaning for him. No, “you’ll owe me” from a man like that might as well mean “I own you.” And, I’ve already heard it way too many times to be comfortable with it.
“I know, Dom. I always do. Thanks.” I drop the phone into its cradle and return my gaze to Gabe.
He chuckles and grins at me. “You just sold your soul to the devil for some beer.”
Asshole.
“No, I sold my soul to the devil for our business, which just happens to require beer.”
He laughs, tossing his head back before he stands and walks toward the door. “I’ll make sure the guys are ready for the delivery. You need anything else?”
Lots of things.
“Not that you can give me.”
I stare at the computer screen and take another long drink of my bourbon. It is almost 9:00 p.m., and things have gone surprisingly smooth for a Saturday night. Usually, there’s at least one asshole trying to climb the stage to get to the girls, or one inappropriately grabbing at the waitresses. But tonight, things are quiet. It certainly makes my job a lot easier.
Clicking on the screen to enlarge the image in the far left corner, I zoom in on the bar where Byron is helping Clarissa and Jamie with the flood of customers seeking drinks.
Busy is good.
Busy keeps my mind occupied.
Busy keeps it off Danika.
Yeah, right…
The shrill ring of the phone on my desk tears me away from the camera feed. “This is Hawke.”
“Savage, son, it’s Dom.”
Shit. That was quick.
“Hey, Dom, to what do I owe the pleasure?” I ask, tossing his phrase back at him, though I doubt he knows I’m mocking him. He may be brilliant at running a criminal empire, but he isn’t the brightest bulb in the shed when it comes to anything else.
“I need a favor.”
And there it is.
My chest tightens and my stomach turns imagining all the depraved things he may ask me to do. “What do you need?”
“I have an associate who’s in town tonight and would really enjoy a visit to your club. I need the champagne room.”
We have five private rooms in the club, the champagne room being the largest and most luxurious. We also have five bachelor parties here tonight, and a very wealthy lawyer and his friends are currently enjoying the benefits of the champagne room before they send him off to the altar.
“I’m sorry, Dom. I can’t. I have a bachelor party in there tonight.” The silence on the other end of the line is deafening and I wonder if I’ve just dug myself into a hole I can never get out of. I take a deep breath and pray that he doesn’t get even more offended. “I’m happy to set up a private area in the main club for him. It would give him a better view of all the girls anyway.”