Fate’s Unseen Shadow (Cager #1)

Chapter 8

8

“ S o, what’s the juicy backstory between you and Damon?”

Lacy’s question caught her off guard. Ella slowed as she picked up a glass to pour a beer. “There’s no juicy backstory.”

“ Right. We’ll play it that way for now. Then give me your backstory. How’d you end up here, bartending for the first time in your life?” She took the beer from Ella and handed it to the customer. “Give me something, girl.”

“My dad died.” That had started this entire nightmare. “My dad died, and we owned a small business together. I just…I couldn’t do it without him.” It was such a lie. If there was anything her dad had prepared her for it was to run Cassin Systems alone. But maybe there was some truth to it, as well. Doing life alone, without him, plain sucked. In those lonely nights in her car, she’d squeezed her eyes shut, trying to imagine what he’d say to do. The silence she’d gotten in return had nearly broken her.

Lacy hugged her, knocking her out of her thoughts. “Whoa!” Ella said, catching them on the bar before they fell over.

“You looked like you needed one. My dad died, too, but I was really young. I watched my mom go through man after man growing up. I ended up the same way for a long time. Until I found a guy that didn’t take advantage of that. And that is my tragic backstory.” She gave Ella a firm shake. “Before you leave tonight, I’m going to give you my phone number. You call me if you ever start feeling sad.”

Ella heard herself say, “Thank you,” but couldn’t quite comprehend the idea of that.

A friend?

The next second, Lacy released her and stepped to the side. “Well, long time no see!” she announced, moving down the bar toward a new customer who’d sat down. She seemed to know everyone. And even if she didn’t, she pretended like she did.

Ella concentrated on making the rum and Coke with the right measurements for the lady who stood in front of her, pressed firmly against the side of a man three times her size. Damon and Lacy both said the bar on Thursday was less busy than Friday and Saturday nights. So far, she’d hardly taken a breath since about nine o’clock.

Passing over the drink, she took the cash the lady handed her. “Keep the change.” She walked off, and Ella went to the cash register to log in the sale.

Lacy threw her head back, laughing at whatever the guy at the counter said. Ella checked the time. Fifteen minutes until last call, and Lacy acted like it was two in the afternoon instead of nearly midnight. Ella’s body ached from the unaccustomed movement after sitting for so long in her car, but she loved it. The past few hours hadn’t included any worrying about her situation, and the mental break was exactly what she needed.

“Ella,” Lacy called. “Come here and meet one of my old regulars.”

“Old?” He laughed. “I feel it most days, but I wouldn’t throw myself in that category yet.”

He appeared to be in his mid-40s, maybe early 50s. Rich brown skin and amber eyes. Attractive. He wore a buttoned-down shirt, sleeves rolled up, like he might have come there straight from work.

Lacy motioned to her. “This is Ella. The boys finally got me some help back here, and she’s been a godsend. I can’t wait for the help tomorrow and Saturday night.”

Ella smiled at the compliment. “You’re a great teacher.” She picked up an empty glass and wiped the counter underneath it with a rag.

“This is Detective Jeff Moore. He and Slater used to work together. Before Slater decided to go rogue.”

The glass slipped from Ella’s fingers.

Detective?

Lacy moved to get the broom. “Honey, are you okay? Don’t move.”

As usual in society, the place had gone quiet when the glass fell, the few people left staring at her.

Ella squatted down and picked up a few larger pieces, hands shaking. “I’m sorry, Lacy.” The glass in her hand sliced her middle finger.

Gasping, she stood, staring at the blood welling to the surface. A large hand reached out and gently took her wrist. It was the detective.

“Here,” he said, leaning over the counter to reach her. Slowly, he pulled her in his direction, forcing her to move. “Let me look for any glass in that cut before we wrap it up.” He flipped on his cell phone flashlight and began investigating the wound.

Her body trembled. Not from the cut.

Detective Moore picked up a cocktail napkin and dabbed at the cut.

She hissed.

“I know it hurts.” He looked back at her, smiling again. “Sometimes these little things hurt worse than actual injuries.”

Ryker walked up to one side of the detective. “Are you okay?” His typical smile had vanished from his face as he looked between her and the detective. Did he know that this was the police?

Ella’s laugh sounded fake and forced. “I think I’m fine.”

Xavier moved to the detective’s other side. “What did you do there, blondie?”

“The glass was wet. Slipped right out.” She kept her head down, hoping to hide her face a little. “I think it’s fine now.”

She started to pull her arm back, but the detective held on to it. “Hey,” he said, waiting to continue until she looked back up at him. “I’ll take an opening when I have one. I know you worked a full shift, but other places stay open later than Cager on a Thursday. Do you want to go grab a drink once you’re off?”

Not only was someone looking to arrest her holding her hand, but he’d asked her out on a date? Her lips parted, but she had no clue what to say, and no words came out.

Ryker and Xavier shared a look behind his back as Slater approached.

And as much as she wanted to let the panic crawling up the back of her throat free, she held tight to her composure.

“Well, that’s nice of you to offer?—”

“No.” Damon’s chest pressed against her back, both arms landing solidly on the bar in front of her, caging her between him and the bar. “She’s not interested in a drink.”

She caught a glimpse of Lacy’s wide, shocked eyes and tried to send her a reassuring smile. But she didn’t know what to do between the detective, still holding onto her hand, and Damon, staring him down.

Slater slapped Detective Moore on the back. “What are you doing here, Jeff? I don’t remember you needing to meet with me.”

“You know.” Detective Moore dabbed at Ella’s finger and ignored that Damon growled behind her. “Asking a beautiful woman out for a drink. Watching a man answer for her.” He lifted his eyebrows, giving Ella another chance to answer.

Damon set his hand on her waist before gliding it across her midsection, his fingers skimming underneath the bottom edge of her shirt.

She swallowed down the gasp from the contact and shook her head no.

Detective Moore smiled. “And being late to the game, it seems. Put pressure on the cut.” He formed her hand into a fist. “Keep it like this for a few minutes. And if you ever change your mind, let me know.”

“Thanks,” she murmured, looking down at her hand and away from him.

Damon hauled her back and into his chest. He led her out the other end of the bar, toward the booth the guys normally occupied, and then down the hallway. “Are we leaving?” she asked as they approached the employee entrance. They passed the bathrooms and stopped at the door before the exit.

“No.”

“What’s this?” Ella asked, not trying to leave the shelter of his arms. His tight hold had quelled most of the shaking, although the fear still swirled through her body.

“An office. Sort of.” He pushed open the door. Various boxes sat around the room, a few covering the desk near the back. “We have a first aid kit behind the bar, but I’d rather not give Jeff more time to check you out.”

“I was worried about that. Do you think he recognized me?”

Damon pulled out the kit behind the desk and straightened, meeting her gaze. “I wasn’t talking about that.”

She swallowed as he continued to stare at her. “Oh.”

Crossing the room, he took her by the arm and guided her to a chair. After moving a box, he insisted she sit down.

“I’m sorry about breaking the glass. I can buy you a new one.”

He shook his head. “The glass is the last thing I’m worried about. This wasn’t a good idea. You need to stay at the apartment.”

No!

That was the last thing she wanted to happen. Sitting alone, relying on other people, was miserable. “Does Detective Moore come in here often?”

“No. I haven’t seen him here in at least six months, and only then there was a meeting prearranged with Slater. We work with him on the runaways if they’re local, but he doesn’t simply show up here.”

She peeked inside the napkin at the cut. “Then maybe he won’t come back.”

Damon stared at her for a long moment before his hand holding the bandage dropped to his side. “You’re serious? You’re willing to risk your freedom and your life if they pin this on you, to play bartender?”

“Well, when you say it like that, it sounds?—”

“Stupid?”

She sat up straight. “Don’t call me stupid.”

He closed his eyes. “That’s not what I meant. Sorry.” When he opened them, she saw the worry. “You can be a little more patient. Wait it out. Let us develop a plan.”

“I loved tonight,” she blurted out.

He took the napkin away and studied her cut. “Glad you enjoyed yourself, but that’s no reason to risk it.”

She covered his hand with her free one, forcing him to stop and pay attention to her. “No, Damon. I seriously loved doing that tonight. I didn’t realize how stuck I felt before.”

“Stuck in your car?”

“No.” With a hard exhale, she admitted it out loud. “Stuck in my life.” And it might not make sense to him or anyone, but it’d been a month. A month of not being Elizabeth Cassin and working eighty-hour work weeks. Not being responsible for thousands of jobs. Of not being alone. She’d been homeless, scared, and wanted for murder. But all of that had disappeared tonight.

And when she looked at Damon, she only thought of him.

That feeling of peacefulness was alluring.

“I need something, Damon. The cops have pinned this on me, and yeah, it’s a risk to be here.” She barked out a laugh and looked toward the door. “I just came face-to-face with that risk. But until we figure out how to clear my name, I don’t want to stay locked away. Please? I promise I won’t return to the bar if something else happens. Who knows? You might not be able to find the killer, and then I’ll be stuck as Ella No-Last-Name forever.”

Damon’s silent study of her made her itch to peel back his skull and look inside it.

“Fine,” he grumbled. “You can stay until something else happens, and I’ll play bodyguard, but I swear, Ella, the next sketchy situation or the next time a cop walks into this bar, you’re staying at the apartment. Even if I stay with you to ensure you don’t leave.”

She smiled. “Deal. And thank you for playing bodyguard earlier. I had no idea what to say to him. Is he a good cop?”

“He’s okay, I guess. He and Slater have stayed friends after he left the force. I suspect that he came by to talk about that runaway case. He’s the only one that knows how we get things done.” He smirked. “Keeps trying to lure Ryker away from us.”

“So he knows about your secret weapon?”

“Yes.” He took her hand and moved it over the trash can beside the chair. He held a small bottle of something in his other hand. “We need to clean this. It won’t be fun.”

“Does it burn?”

“A little.” Damon twisted her finger to open the cut and poured the liquid directly onto the slice.

“Shit!” She fell forward against his chest, smothering her face against his shirt. Taking several deep breaths, she stayed that way, inhaling his scent and distracting herself from the pain.

When he’d wrapped the bandage around her finger, he set her throbbing finger in her lap. “All done.” He ran a hand over her head, tugging lightly at her hair.

She lifted her head. “You smell good.”

He drew his eyebrows down before a small laugh escaped. “I’m glad I don’t smell bad.”

“Do you still have my jewelry?” She stalled, staying close, letting her hand linger on his hip where she’d held onto him.

“Yes.” He dropped his hand from the back of her neck to her shoulder. “I’ll give it back tonight when we get home. Let’s go finish up for the night. One of us will wash the glasses. Keep your finger dry until you can reclean it tonight at home.” He stepped away, heading back to the door. “I need to make sure there’s no hard feelings between me and Moore, if he’s still here. The last thing we need is some cop to get an idea that there’s some competition for you and for him to come in here every night to see you.”

“Why would he want to come here every night to see me?”

“To try and get you to go out with him.”

She scoffed. “There’s zero competition between the two of you.”

Damon’s quick grin caught her off guard. “Glad to hear it.”

She laughed. “No! I didn’t mean?—”

“Nope.” He shook his head, walking backward. “You said it, and I’m keeping it.” He turned and strode out the door to the main floor of Cager.

Ella spotted Slater talking with Detective Moore through the open front door. She turned to walk behind the bar, but Lacy blocked her way.

“Girl, what is going on with you and Damon?” Lacy asked, pretending to wipe down the already clean bar. “Are you living with him?”

“No.” Ella softened the quick response with a smile. “I’m living in the apartment above him. He gave me this job when I found myself without one.”

“And you know him well enough for him to steal your jewelry and act all possessive with Detective Moore?” She giggled and shook her head, spraying down more of the counter. “I don’t know how that happened, but I don’t blame you for that big smile. He’s sexy as hell. And unlike Slater and Xavier, I’ve never seen him here with a woman.”

“Nothing is going on, Lacy.” She ducked her head and walked toward the back of the bar, where she lined up the liquor bottles. She moved on to restocking the fridge. Ryker stood at the bar, cleaning up the glasses while Damon picked up the bar stools. By the time Ella was done, Lacy and Ryker had finished the rest of the cleanup behind the bar.

Ryker called, “I’m out,” and left.

Lacy wiped her hands on her thighs before grabbing her purse from behind the cash register. “And we’re done for the night. C’mon, girl. Our guys are waiting.”

“Our guys?” She looked up, and Damon stood with the bouncer, Chris. He stood an inch above Damon, probably six-five. Dark, ebony skin. He wore a red T-shirt with the Cager logo on the back and looked like he could probably throw a car across the parking lot. “You’re with Chris?”

“Yes. I think we should double sometime.”

“Double?” What did that mean?

“Double date?” At her continued confusion, Lacy shook her head. “Let me put it more plainly. Damon’s single.” She skipped ahead, wrapping her arms around Chris’s neck and kissing him.

Chris palmed her butt. “Let’s go.” With his arm over her shoulder, he led Lacy outside.

“I didn’t know they were together. Does he have a problem with the guys at the bar hitting on her? It was a constant thing.”

Damon locked the front door and escorted her toward his car. “No. He’ll step in if she wants it, but Lacy handles them overall. Was it bad for you? I can stay at the bar if I need to.”

“Are you going to growl at all of them?”

He hummed. “Only the ones that won’t stop touching you.”

She shook her head. “If Lacy can handle it, I can, too.”

“Please know you don’t have to deal with it. I’d much rather sit and kick jerks out of our bar than listen to Slater ramble about his last date.” He smirked as he opened her car door. “Not sure they qualify as technical dates.”

“He seems like he’d be with a lot of people.”

“He’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Did you come up with a plan? You said you would talk to them tonight.” She lingered near the car door, but didn’t open it. The night would end once they made it back to the apartment.

Damon leaned his arm on the top of the door. “Yes. We have a starting point. We need a picture of the man stalking you. Ryker is setting up a sketch artist for you to give a description. The next step is Ryker searching for his identity.”

She closed her eyes. “I wish I didn’t have to see him again. But I see him every single night in my nightmares.”

“I hate to say that’s good, but the more detail you can give the artist, the better. Ryker will use it to try to find his identity. Hey”—he touched her elbow, and her eyes opened—“nothing about this is going to be easy, but I need the details to put it all together. There’s a reason he’s stalking you.”

“Will you be there?”

“For the sketch artist?” He shrugged. “Depends on when she’s available. But one of us will be there. Let’s get going.” He opened the car door. “It’s late.”

They drove home in near silence. At a red light, he looked over at her. He didn’t say anything.

He just looked.

The longer he did, the louder the blood thumped steadily in her ears. All she did was return his stare, seeing what he’d do next. She could come up with something to say and break the tension, but the longer it went, the more her body heated.

The light turned green, and he looked away, driving to the apartment and apparently oblivious to his effect on her nervous system.

Once there, she met him at the front of the car and held out her hand. “Do you want to give me my jewelry?”

He took her hand and led the way up to her apartment.

Her throat tightened with the contact. But once they arrived at her door, she reached into her purse for her key, only he slipped his into the lock first.

“You have a key?”

“My key works in all the doors.” He opened her door and then walked inside, turning on the lamp and immediately heading to her bedroom.

“Umm”—she closed the door behind them—“what are you doing?”

“Making sure it’s all clear.” He reached into his pocket, producing her jewelry. “Hand out.”

Ella extended her hand, palm facing upward. Carefully, he fastened her watch around her wrist, his gaze fixed intently on the clasp. “I believe I promised to return it to your body,” he said, finally looking up to meet her eyes. A subtle smile played across his lips, carrying an unexpected warmth.

And there went her blood pressure again.

He secured her watch and continued to hold her hand. “Aside from getting cut, how was the rest of your night?” His thumb gently brushed back and forth over the inside of her wrist.

Ella swallowed, trying to figure out the situation. Was he flirting or only acting concerned? “Good. I’m looking forward to tomorrow. Will you be driving me again?”

“Of course. I have work in the morning, but I’ll come by to check on you around lunch,” he replied. After a soft sigh, he let go of her hand and picked up the pearls, holding them at both ends. “Turn around and lift your hair.”

She reached for the pearls. “I can?—”

“No.”

His eyes held a silent challenge that tempted her to defy him. The energy between them intensified with each moment their stubborn standoff continued.

“Ella, I’m going to keep my promise.” Without waiting for her to turn, Damon moved behind her, dangling the necklace before her. “Lift your hair.”

Reluctantly, she complied, the internal struggle between obedience and resistance fading as he draped the cool pearls low across her chest. His proximity was palpable; his thighs brushed against her as he stood close. Gently, he raised the pearls, letting them roll smoothly up to her neck.

Ella bowed her head slightly, the cool sensation of the pearls nearly sparking a shiver through her body.

Damon fastened the clasp, his fingers lightly grazing her neck, before he returned to stand before her. Extending his hand, he offered her the earrings. “Here,” he said, his voice a low rumble. “I’d put them on for you, but I wouldn’t want to drop one. Please, don’t wear these tomorrow.”

She took the earrings and stepped away, slipping them into her ears herself.

“Get some rest, Ella. The weekend nights are always the toughest. You’ll be at the bar until three. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He was almost out the door when he paused and turned back. “Lock the door. I want to know you’re safe before I leave.”

“I will.”

He narrowed his eyes, saying, “Come here.”

She flew over to him, thinking he wanted her close for some reason. “What?” she asked, sounding far too hopeful.

He must have caught the tone because she saw pure amusement in his expression. “You can’t lock the door from way over there.”

“Oh.”

With a small laugh, he pulled the door closed and said, “Good night, Ella.”

“Good night, Damon.” She locked the door, laying her forehead against it and closing her eyes. “I’m just tired,” she murmured, taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly. “The police are looking for you. A killer is looking for you. This isn’t your real life. Damon is only here to help.” With that stark reminder, she headed to bed and fell into a deep sleep until late morning.

After a refreshing morning shower, Ella settled down to watch the news. Within minutes, her face flashed across the TV. “Shit.” She put her coffee down and turned up the volume.

“Elizabeth Cassin is still missing. It’s been four weeks since Theodore Smith, CEO of Cassin Systems, was found dead. No other suspects have emerged in the case.”

She yelled, “I’m not a suspect!” at the TV, as if it could hear her.

An FBI agent appeared on screen. “At this point, we’ve increased the reward to two hundred thousand dollars for information leading to her apprehension. Alive,” he added, clearing his throat.

She switched off the TV, her mood soured. At least they were pretending to care about capturing her alive. Now, more than ever, she needed to trust the guys to help her find the real killer and clear her name. She enjoyed being with Damon, but this wasn’t her life. She had to remember that.