Lucky: The Irish MC (25 page)

Anne and I chatted while we cleaned, keeping a watchful eye on the two charges left. Peter and Shaunna were both good kids, but ever since their mom died, they’d been a handful. I watched with a wary eye as they played with the same blocks and puzzle pieces, knowing that the moment could turn in an instant. Just when I thought they actually might get through the day without a fight, Peter threw a block at his sister’s head.

“Peter!” I cried. “No! No, we don’t do that. Go sit in time-out!” I pointed to the corner of the room covered with clock cut-outs. Peter sniffled and I felt myself soften, but a bruise was already starting to form on Shaunna’s cheek. “Go,” I repeated, staring at Peter until he slowly got up and stomped over to the time-out corner.

“They’re something else,” Anne said under her breath. She rolled her eyes and handed me a pile of soggy paper towels. “Can you throw these out?” I threw a glance at the door to see Peter and Shaunna’s dad, Mark, walking in. Anne fluffed her hair and I rolled my eyes. Yeah, Mark was pretty cute
and
he was single, but his wife had only been dead for a couple of years. I couldn’t imagine there was any way he’d even be thinking about dating right now. Anne—just like every other female at the daycare—had a massive crush on him, but it was easy to see that he just really cared about his kids.

“Hi, Lacey,” Mark greeted me. “How did things go today?”

I frowned. “Not so good,” I admitted. “They were great for most of the afternoon, but Peter got a little fussy about ten minutes ago.”

Mark looked guilty. “That’s my fault,” he replied. “I should have been here an hour ago.” He checked his watch. “Traffic was bad, again,” he said finally. “I know it’s not an excuse, but I’m sorry if I kept you here too late.”

I smiled. “Don’t worry,” I told him. “I have to stay until six anyway.”

Mark’s light blue eyes lit up. “Oh, well, it’s almost six now,” he said brightly. “Any plans for after this?”

I shook my head. “Just singing later,” I said after a beat. “I’m going to go home and try to take a nap for a little bit.”

“I couldn’t interest you in dinner, could I?” Mark asked, giving me a smile. “I’m sure Anne wouldn’t mind staying a little later than usual.”

“Oh, Mr. Simpson, that’s sweet,” I replied. “But we couldn’t ask her to do that.”

“Daddy!” Shaunna cried, launching herself into her dad’s arms. He scooped her up and kissed her pink cheeks and she giggled, smiling down happily at me. I had to smile; seeing my kids greet their parents at the end of every day never failed to cheer me up.

“You sure I can’t tempt you?” Mark teased me. “And it’s always Mark, by the way.” He mimed a shudder. “Mr. Simpson makes me sound old.”

“That’s because you are old, Daddy,” Shaunna told him in a matter-of-fact voice.

“Shaunna!” I cried. “That’s not very nice at all!”

“It’s fine,” Mark said, more to me than his daughter. “We have to be going anyway. Come on, Peter.” I watched as Peter flew out of the time-out chair and wrapped his arms around his dad’s legs. They walked out together like that, their silhouette resembling a weird half-man half-monster.

“Lacey,” Anne said drily once Mark had driven off with Peter and Shaunna. “I can’t believe you.”

“I know,” I replied, blushing. “I’m sorry. I promise that I’d never ask you to stay late just so I could go out.”

She shook her head. “Not that, you dope. He asked you out and you said no!”

I blushed. “He didn’t ask me out,” I replied. “He wanted to buy me dinner because he felt bad about being late.”

Anne rolled her eyes. “You’re an idiot,” she said mildly. “He likes you, Lacey. He stares at you every time he comes in here.”

“That’s because I’m usually the one who’s standing with his kids,” I said patiently. “He knows they like me.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Yeah, and he’s thinking about how to wife you so you can be their step-mom,” she replied. “Trust me, he thinks you’re hot.”

I shook my head; the idea was too crazy for me to even fathom. “Stop,” I said quietly. “You’re making me feel weird.”

I finally left the center a little after six.
Shit,
I thought to myself.
Not enough time for a nap now
. Instead of a nap, I stopped at the 7-Eleven on the way home and bought some Red Bull. Chugging a couple of those was almost as good as having time to sleep, or so I was going to convince myself. It only took me about an hour to wash and get ready, and I feeling a lot more energized after the caffeine and the shower had worked their magic on me.

It was a Friday, and I was hoping for a big crowd at the club. The Pink Diamond was a little out of the way, but it could get pretty packed on weekends. It was my first time singing on a Friday night, and I was hoping to make a lot of money in tips. Christmas was only a couple of weeks away, and I hadn’t done any shopping yet.

All through warming up, I thought about what Anne had said. Was it true that Mr. Simpson liked me? Looking in the mirror, it seemed impossible. Even in my little red sequined dress, I didn’t feel sexy. I felt more like a kid playing dress-up in her mother’s closet.
Or her slutty aunt’s,
I thought with a giggle. My mom would have died before ever wearing anything like this; I was glad that she and my dad wouldn’t ever have the chance to see me perform.

“Lacey, you’re on next!” The stage manager poked his head into the dressing room. He gave me an approving smile. “Nice dress,” he commented. “Break a leg out there!”

“Thanks!” I whispered, pushing past him and finding my way onstage. As usual, the bright lights blinded me for the first few seconds. I closed my eyes and began the lead-in to my song, a cover of Adele’s “Someone Like You.” Whistles and hollers began to sound as my voice hit a crescendo, and I opened my eyes to see an appreciative crowd. Their attention gave me more confidence than I’d been feeling, and I belted out the rest of the song and swayed my body to the sensual feel.

There was one guy in the audience with piercing green eyes and thick arms covered in tattoos. He wasn’t normally the kind of guy that I’d find attractive, but he was undeniably sexy. He locked eyes with me and I felt my mouth go dry. The lyrics to “Someone Like You” were seared in my brain, and I went on autopilot singing and swaying. The man’s gaze never wavered or blinked, and even though I was up on stage, I felt vulnerable to his presence. From where I stood, I could practically hear him growl my name. The way he was looking at me made me feel like he could see me without my clothes on. I shivered.

There was a low sound of clapping and cheering and I realized with a start that my song was over. The man didn’t clap, cheer, or whistle; he stared straight ahead into my eyes. I blinked nervously and gazed around the room. When my gaze landed back on the row he’d been sitting, there was an empty chair in the middle. He was gone.

For a moment, I stood there awkwardly. He’d shaken me up so badly that I couldn’t even remember which song I was supposed to sing next. The cheers and applause died down and the silence in The Pink Diamond was making me uncomfortable. I stepped forward and grabbed the mic with a robotic gesture.

I closed my eyes and steeled my resolve.
So what if he was staring at you?
I thought.
He left. He couldn’t have found you that interesting
.

Chapter Three

“What do you want with me?” I squeaked as the burly guy hustled me inside my own apartment. He instinctively groped the wall and flicked upwards for the light switch, flooding the apartment with a fluorescent yellow glare. I blinked, letting my eyes adjust to the light.

“Ohmygod,” I said in a rush. “You’re that guy, from the club. The one who was staring at me.” I felt a wave of dizziness swoop over my head.

The burly guy glared at me. “It’s Chase,” he spat. “Chase McIntyre.”

“Hi,” I said, immediately feeling stupid and scared. There was a lump in my throat and I swallowed hard, frantically looking around the apartment. Even though Jackie had been begging me to get a gun, I didn’t even have a baseball bat lying around. I did have a crowbar, but that was on the floor of the backseat of my car. I always worried more about getting carjacked than I did about my apartment being broken into. I lived in such a shitty neighborhood that I didn’t even think it would be tempting.

“Sit,” Chase commanded. He pointed to one of my wicker chairs, hand-me-downs from my mom’s kitchen. I felt the way I had as a little kid when she sent me into time-out. Except this time, my feet could touch the ground from the chair. I backed over to the table and lowered myself down. “What did you see?” he growled.

I shook my head and stammered. “Nothing,” I managed to say.

“Bullshit!” He slammed his fist down on the table and I saw a crack appear in the old oak wood. I squealed and tried to curl up in the chair but he grabbed my shoulder and held me firm. His touch was stronger than any I’d ever felt before, and I shivered thinking about his hands ripping off my clothes, exploring my body. It was a violent image, but it turned me on all the same.
 

“Really,” I tried again, in a calmer voice this time. “I didn’t see anything.”

Chase yanked the chair away from the table and sent me flying a few feet backwards. I landed upright, on my hands and knees, and looked up at him fearfully. My mass of black hair fell in front of my face and I pushed it aside with a trembling hand.

“Tell me,” he commanded. “Don’t fucking lie this time.”

I took a deep breath. “Promise you won’t hurt me?” I asked. It came out as a high-pitched squeal. “Promise me,” I said again, in a more normal voice this time.

Chase rubbed his chin with his hand and I saw days and days of rough stubble. “Whatever,” he muttered. “You’re not going to be fucking safe if you
don’t
tell me, how about that?”

I heard the steel in his voice and shuddered. “Okay,” I whimpered. “I was walking and I saw this other guy punch you, and then you attacked him and he fell on the ground, and—”

“I didn’t fucking attack him!” He slammed his fist down on the table again, extending the crack from one end of the oak to the other. “I fucking stood up for myself, he would have fucking killed me!”

I held my hands up in the air and nodded furiously. “Okay, okay,” I said. “I’m sorry.”

“What else?” He leaned forward and glared at me, his beautiful green eyes flashing.

“Nothing,” I said truthfully. “I turned around and ran back to the club, and then walked around the block to get to my car. And you followed me home,” I pointed out. “What do you want with me?”

Chase leaned so close to my face that I could smell his beer breath. “I want you to fucking stay out of this,” he said. “Pay attention to me, little girl, you’re going to be dead if you don’t listen.”

“My name is Lacey,” I squeaked out. “Lacey Sanders.” My back was aching from my position on the floor, and I crawled to my knees and then got to my feet. Even standing, Chase was still over a head taller than I was. If we were next to each other, the top of my head wouldn’t even come up to his shoulder.

“It doesn’t matter what your name is,” he said gruffly. “You’re going to be dead if you don’t pay attention to me.”

I frowned. “Just exactly what is going to happen to me? Some big guy comes in and threatens me in my own apartment?”