Page 53 of Dirty Pool

No, it wouldn’t be.

Michel wasn’t going to pretend, either.

If he wanted to see Gabbie Casey, then he was going to do exactly that. Like fuck was this man, or any other man, going to make those rules for him. Besides, it also wasn’t that simple for Michel where Gabbie was concerned. Nothing about the two of them could be easily summed up with a few words—he wasn’t about to deny himself something he didn’t even know well enough to explain to someone else.

He adored that woman, and the more time he spent with her, the greater that feeling became. It was addicting, in a way. There was a part of him that wanted to know where this was going to take him with her—somewhere amazing, maybe … who knew?

He wanted to find out. He’d never connected with someone like he did with Gabbie. And someone wanted to tell him to, essentially, fuck off where she was concerned? Someone thought they got an opinion on his choices?

Not likely.

These Detroit fucks didn’t know him that well.

“Since you didn’t want to say it outright,” Michel said, refusing to answer the man’s question, “I will tell you. It’s not my loyalty you ever have to wonder about.”

As long as they looked out for him, he’d look out for them.

That’s how Michel worked.

That was life.

It wasn’t about the mafia.

Sal’s jaw tightened as he muttered, “Don’t make me call on you again, Michel.”

Yeah, whatever.

• • •

Michel stepped into the club, letting his gaze drift over the people lingering near the entrance where they could drop off their bags and coats. Handing over his bag to the woman taking items from patrons, he kept his phone and wallet just in case.

He wouldn’t say he was a truly familiar face at the joint, but he had been there enough to do business—make a sale—that the bouncer at the front didn’t mind letting Michel pass for an extra hundred tucked in alongside his fake ID when the man asked to check it.

This particular club wasn’t mob-owned. Not by the Italians, or the Irish. That was one of the many reasons why Michel liked the place when he had to drop in to make an exchange with a customer. And yet, it was still quite popular, and the mob had managed not to encroach on the place.

So far.

Anything with too much success was always a threat to the mafia. If they couldn’t weasel their way in through bribery or blackmail, then they would simply turn to threats and violence to get what they wanted from the owners of the joint. It was only a matter of time.

That was background noise to Michel.

For now, anyway.

Another reason Michel liked this club? He considered it safe. At least, for the time being. If he was being followed, as Sal suggested the week before, then it wouldn’t look at all concerning for Michel to slip into a club during the weekend to do a drop off.

He was pretty sure he didn’t have someone on him twenty-four-seven from the Italian side, but more like some stupid fuck who kept Sal updated on Michel’s whereabouts. He couldn’t say anything about the Irish, but he wasn’t really the person who needed to worry about them. He had his attention on his side of things with the Italians.

Which meant when he went into a club to work, he suspected the guy probably went off to do his own thing, believing his job was done. That was his mistake, and totally fine with Michel. He had other things to attend to now.

Checking his phone as he drifted in and out of the people hanging around the entrance and closer to the bar, Michel read over the last text that he had been sent. It was the only thing that was going to tell him where he had to go inside the club, so he didn’t look like a fool staring around with no particular direction.

Middle of the dance floor.

That’s all the text read.

He grinned.

Michel headed for the dance floor, weaving through the crowd of sweaty, drunk people. It wasn’t hard at all to find the woman he was looking for once he knew where to search for her. She was the only one with that penny-colored hair, her mess of curls wild under the lights flashing up above, and her green eyes sparkling when they finally landed on him.