Chapter 8: The Man in the Dark

**Kait**

The night is busy, people filing in and out, minding their own business, and not putting up too much of a fight when I cut them off. Nights like these are good, mostly. I usually get a lot of tips, and if I’m lucky, I get to go home with someone. The thing is, I’m not lucky.

It’s nine o’clock before the last customer walks out. It’s early, which would normally raise my suspicions, but I’m so worn out I don’t really care.

I start straightening chairs and shoving them back under the tables. I wash and scrub the dishes, wipe down the counters, sweep the floors, and am just about to mop when I hear the door open.

A tall man walks in with a dark leather jacket on, ripped and faded jeans, and a pair of Doc Martens on his feet. His hair is black, and his eyes are a deep shade of silver that brightens into red as he enters the light.

My jaw drops when I see his face. He has a near-perfect look, with a wide-set jaw, perfectly white teeth, and just the right shade of tan to make my knees squirm beneath me.

The bulk of his body is most noticeable as he walks toward me. His muscles bulge despite the jacket he wears, each swing of his arm causing his muscles to ripple in synchrony.

I drop the mop back in the closet where I’m standing and shut the door behind me. The man walks up to me a moment later. His walk is as graceful as a dancer’s or perhaps a lion's on the prowl.

“Can I help you?” I ask, flinching at the squeak in my voice.

“Yes,” he says, his honey accent melting through me. “I do believe you can. You see, I’m meeting someone here tonight. I was wondering if you might have seen him. Goes by the name of Cunnington, Jake Cunnington.”

My eyes widen before I tell them not to, and the man smiles. He holds out a hand, large but scarred. Lines of broken, red tissue mark his knuckles. This is not a man to get in a fight with.

I take his hand, keeping an eye on his other as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his cell.

“My name is John Brackon. It’s a pleasure meeting you,” he says with that cool voice. When he releases my hand, he unlocks it and types in a quick message before looking back at me.

“So, I take it you have seen the man I’m looking for?”

I nod. My voice is slow as I say, “Yes, but not tonight. He was here last night, though.”

“Ah, yes,” John says, putting his phone back in his pocket. “I heard about what happened to that building of his. Such a shame. But I’m sure it was inevitable.”

“Inevitable?” I ask as I try to make my way back behind the counter, but John blocks my way, his body hovering just before mine.

I can smell the scent of cigars and whiskey on him, the same smells I’ve come to love. I feel heat rush through me, quickening my heart. I pulse unexpectedly as he reaches up a hand and gently holds my chin's tip.

“You know, now that I see you in person, I can almost see what he sees. You are a lovely thing, aren’t you? You have a certain quality I can’t quite place. There’s something in your blood, isn’t there? Something that makes you different from all the rest.”

He leans in close. I can feel his breath on my skin. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I whisper, but I don’t think he hears me because soon his lips are lingering over mine, not touching but just barely.

“Maybe I won’t let him have you. Maybe I’ll just keep you all to myself,” he murmurs, and a shiver races down my spine.”

“That’s enough,” a loud voice calls from behind John, and I bolt away from him, trembling.

John smiles and slowly turns around, his face calm and assured. “Jake, my old friend!” he says.

“We are not friends,” Jake replies.

I look between them, each man looking the opposite of the other. Jake wears a sleek suit with black slacks and a pure white shirt. His jacket is open, displaying his large chest with little wiry hairs peeking out from the collar of his shirt.

On the other hand, John looks like he belongs in an underground rave.

Jake flicks his sliver-blue eyes at me. “Go take a break.”

“What?” I ask, suddenly terrified.

“Don’t listen to him, love,” John says casually. “He’s afraid I’ll hurt you. But he doesn’t need to worry.” John stares at Jake, his smile unchanging. “I could never hurt a pretty thing like you, little Kait.”

My stomach drops, and my knees almost buckle. He knows my name, and yet I never told him.

Jake turns back to me. I can see rage behind those eyes. Whatever is going on here, he doesn’t want me in the way.

“Leave,” he says again, his voice low, the anger evident in his tone.

“Stay,” John says simply as if he was speaking to a dog.

My feet remain cemented to the floor, but my eyes continue to flick from man to man, unsure of what I’m supposed to do.

“What….what’s going on?” I try, but I know almost instantly I won’t get an answer.

Before either man responds, another man enters the room. He’s much shorter than the others but has a calm attitude that reminds me of those kids I see riding skateboards and smoking who knows what outside restaurants.

“What’s going on is that these two men are having a business meeting and would like some privacy.”

“Nathan,” Jake says in warning.

Nathan steps forward and waves off Jake. He comes closer to me, but not too close, as John steps back toward me.

“Kait, right? Your name is Kait?”

I nod, wondering how the h*ll these people know me and why I’m suddenly the questionable one in the room. I was having a pretty good night, and now, I have to fight off the urge to attack or run.

“Good. Kait, I need you to listen to me. We need some privacy. Is there a back room somewhere we could go to have our….um…discussion?”

Shaking slightly, I point to the office to my right. It’s Jeff’s office, where he spends most of his time. Unlucky for him, he always forgets to lock it.

“Good. Good,” Nathan says and turns to the other men. “Alrighty then. Gentlemen, could we please stop terrifying the poor girl and take this somewhere else?”

John and Jake have a standoff for a good minute before John speaks, “Fine. Let’s go.”

He walks over to the office and enters, not waiting to see if the others follow.

Nathan enters after him, hesitating at the door as Jake approaches me. His face is pale, and I can see his lips are trembling. He’s scared, something I never expected to see in him.

He takes my hand, warm against mine, and squeezes it.

“I’m sorry about this,” he says and leaves without saying another word.