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He’d been so full of pain, I’d just wanted to take some of it away. Something deep inside me called out to comfort him, protect him. And he’d sunk into that kiss like he needed it to keep going.
Ha. What a fucking lie.
I hit the ‘delete’ icon and thrust the phone back at Augie. He wasn’t in my good books either. “Who asked you to do that?”
“I was just trying to help!”
“I don’t need your help, Augie! I’m perfectly capable of handling Boston and the cops without your interference. Got it? I know we’re friends, but don’t forget, I was doing this way before you came along, and I’ll be doing it way after you’ve lost interest and moved on to something else.”
Suitably chastised, he nodded once. “Understood.”
A little of the fight went out of me. This was Augie to a T. He was such a prick, pissing off almost everyone, never letting people see that there was actually a nice guy inside him. The good inside was almost always misguided, as it was tonight. But it was there if you searched deep enough.
Most people didn’t look beyond the surface. But I did. So I blew out a long breath and patted him on his solid shoulder. “How’s your gut?”
“Sore. Who taught you to punch like that?”
“You don’t work at a strip club as long as I have and not know how to take care of yourself.”
He nodded and shuffled away without an apology.
I wouldn’t have expected one. That was part of why Augie and I got along. We understood each other.
Needing some fresh air, I shuffled to the doors. It was close enough to closing time that there was no line waiting to get in, and Terry, our bouncer, sat on his stool staring off into the dark night. I stopped beside him and leaned against the side of the building, breathing in deep, warm, almost summer air.
He glanced over at me with a fatherly smile. Terry was a big guy. Huge, really. Almost a foot taller than me, and probably twice as wide. He was also ten years older, married to a lovely, tiny woman, and the two of them had a couple of preteen kids. He’d worked the door at the club longer than even I’d been around. I’d inherited him from Sal when I bought the place.
“Wanna tell me what that was all about? I stuck my head in when I heard the commotion, but you had it under control.”
I grinned up at him. “Augie asked me who taught me how to throw a punch.”
Terry smiled softly and gazed down at his lap. “When I taught you that, you were barely older than my kids are now.”
“I know. Time flies, huh?”
“Sure does.”
He eyed me, and I could tell there was more he wanted to say. But I gave a tiny shake of my head, and that was enough. Terry nodded, accepting that I didn’t want to talk about Boston and what had happened between us. None of them knew about what he and I had done on the phone last night. So me suddenly kissing him was highly likely the hot topic of gossip floating around the club right now.
I sighed and pushed off the wall. “I suppose I should get back to it.”
“Wait. I nearly forgot. Someone gave me this for you.” Terry took an envelope from the pocket of his jeans and passed it over to me. “I shoved it in my pocket to give to you after the show, but since you’re here now, you might as well take it.”
I peered at it in the dim light. “Who’s it from?”
Terry shrugged. “No idea. Some guy. Never seen him before. I told him he could give you his fan mail himself, but he said he didn’t know which one you were.”
I frowned. “Why is he writing me letters if he doesn’t know who I am?” I dragged a nail beneath the seal, ripping open the envelope. There was a single piece of paper inside, folded neatly several times. I took it out and smoothed over the creases with my palm so I could read it. Terry flicked on his flashlight and trained it on the paper so I’d have enough light to read by.
Whores in the whorehouse. I see you.
“Oh, hell no,” Terry grunted, getting off his stool. “Fuck that shit. Give me that.”
He grabbed the paper before I could protest and stormed through the club, searching the tables one by one. “There.” He pointed to a lanky man whose red hair flopped in his eyes. His cheeks were a ruddy pink, probably from too much alcohol. He looked up as Terry pushed his way around the table, the man’s eyes widening when he was hauled to his feet by the back of his shirt.
Terry had him up against the wall in seconds. And though I’d just punched Augie in the stomach and told him off for trying to handle my business, I let Terry go at it now, knowing he knew me well enough to let me have my say.
“Want to explain this letter you left me?” I asked.
