Deborah Fletcher Mello - Seduced By The Badge

Danni bristled, her hand falling to the waistband of her jeans and the small pistol tucked beneath her shirt and jacket. She clenched her fingers into a tight fist as she watched the girl continue on her way, her companion dropping back into his seat. The moment was interrupted when Carlo moved to her side, setting her drink and dessert down onto the table. He turned to see where she stared.

“Everything okay?”

Danni shifted her gaze to meet his. “Everything’s fine.”

He stole another quick glance over his shoulder. “That’s the kind of trouble you don’t need. Trust me. Nothing good can come from hanging with that crew.”

She nodded. “I was just being nosy,” she said softly.

Carlo smiled. “You ever hear about curiosity and that cat? The cat died.” His deadpan expression moved her to laugh.

“I get it,” she said.

He winked an eye at her. “I have to get back to the counter, but if you need anything else, just let me know.”

“Thanks, Carlo.”

As the man moved to help another customer, Danni shifted her attention back to the other side of the room. The girl had returned to the table, looking disinterested as she and the other two young women finished off sandwiches and mugs of drinks covered with whipped cream. The man with them studied a copy of the Chicago Tribune , ignoring what little chatter there was between his companions. And then the front door swung open, a mini storm moving into the space.

Everyone in the room turned to stare as a couple in heated conversation swept past the counter, moving directly toward the back table. He was tall and lanky with thick black locks pulled into a loose man bun at the back of his head. Dressed in a black, collarless jacket, black slacks and just the hint of a white turtleneck peeking past the jacket’s neckline, he carried himself with an air of irrefutable arrogance. The girl with him wore a gold lamé dress that dipped low in the front and even lower in the back, barely covering her assets. A white fake fur coat was slung over one shoulder, and she stomped in strappy gold high-heeled shoes. She was strikingly beautiful, with a porcelain complexion and raging red hair that fell to the middle of her back.

The young woman was angry, cursing profusely as she slammed her purse onto the table and her backside into a chair. She crossed her arms over her chest and pouted, then shouted again as a fresh irritation crossed her mind. Anger painted her companion’s expression. Infuriated by her outbursts, he slammed a flat palm down against the table, the harsh gesture silencing the entire room.

The couple on that date rose from their seats, waved a hand at the barista and hurried out the door. Everyone else went back to minding their own business, not interested in getting caught up in any fray. Danni’s eyes widened as she eavesdropped, her head hung low over her plate as she pretended to pick at her brownie.

“I’m done, Pius! Do you hear me? I’m not going back to any of those parties ever again,” she screamed before the pout returned to her heavily made-up face.

Carlo moved from behind the counter, his hands resting on his hips as he stared at the table.

Danni turned swiftly to look. The woman’s companion stood with his back to her, seeming to hover over the table. He snapped a finger, and the other man sitting with the women moved onto his feet, moving to give up his chair. As he sat down, his arm flew from his side, backhanding the woman he’d arrived with. Her head snapped back and then her hand flew to the side of her face, tears raining from her eyes.

“Shut up,” he snapped gruffly. “No one said ‘speak.’”

The woman swallowed a sob, and then she stood slowly. She hesitated when the man Danni assumed was a bodyguard took a step in her direction. The quiet in the space was eerily disconcerting.

Carlo’s voice suddenly rose above the silence. “Pie!”

The other man turned in his seat, acknowledging their familiarity with an exaggerated eye roll. “What?” he snapped back.

“You’re scaring my customers,” Carlo quipped.

The other’s man’s gaze swept around the room. He paused for a swift second as Danni met his stare briefly before dropping her eyes back to the table.

“Sorry about that. Coffee’s on me,” the man nicknamed Pie finally said. He turned back around and gestured toward his companion. The bodyguard stepped aside as the woman resumed her trek to the restrooms, still holding on to the side of her face.

“Are you having your regular, Pie?” Carlo questioned. His tone was edged, just shy of being abrasive. Frustration rounded his shoulders and tightened his jaw. He was clearly pissed and fighting not to let it show.

Pie didn’t answer, his attention shifting to a cell phone that vibrated in his breast pocket. He moved to answer the call, ignoring whatever else was happening around him.

“That’s what I thought,” Carlo muttered. He tossed Danni a look, the young woman on the edge of her seat, her body tense. He turned an about-face. “We close soon,” he said loudly, the comment meant for the entire room. “Last call for refills.”

Danni guzzled the last of her coffee, then stood up and headed to the bathroom. Inside, the space was tight, with two stalls and a single sink. The tile wore its age, and new fixtures would have been an improvement. But a fresh coat of pale yellow paint made a pleasant difference, and someone had gone to great lengths to make the space feel comfortable.

The young woman dressed in gold stood looking in the only mirror, fixing her makeup. Ire furrowed her brow as she hid the rising bruise on her cheek beneath a layer of powder foundation. She wasn’t a happy camper, and her anger seeped from her dark eyes past her lashes.

Standing beside her, Danni realized the girl wasn’t nearly as old as she’d initially thought. She stared, realizing the young lady might have been in her late teens or early twenties. She took a deep breath and one step closer. “Hey. Are you okay?” Danni asked. “I saw what your boyfriend did.”

The young woman tossed her a look, a moment of silence shifting between them before she responded. “That prick’s not my boyfriend. I just work for him.”

Danni nodded. “Do you want to call the police or anything?”

The other woman’s incredulous expression gave Danni pause. “Are you stupid?” she snapped.

“I was just trying to help.”

“I don’t need your help. And I definitely don’t need no cops.”

Danni nodded again. “Sorry.”

The girl turned to stare at her. Her gaze swept from Danni’s head to her feet and back. “How old are you?”

“Old enough.”

She laughed. “At least you lie quick. It’ll come in handy.” She extended her hand. “Everyone calls me Ginny. Short for Ginger. Because of the red hair.” She swept her hand through her thick locks.

“Danni. Short for Danielle.”

“You’re new. I’ve never seen you here before.”

“I just got into town. I got into some trouble back home in Georgia, and my folks sent me here to stay with my cousin.”

“Shouldn’t you be home or something? You look like the curfew type.”

Danni shrugged, a slight grin on her face. “My cousin’s a stripper and she works late.”

Ginny laughed. “I bet your old people don’t know that!”

“My parents think she’s going to school. I don’t tell and she lets me do what I want to do.”

The bathroom door suddenly swung open, one of the other young women in Ginny’s party of friends searching her out.

“Pie said to move your ass. He’s ready to go.”

“Are you going to be okay?” Danni asked.

Ginny nodded as she dropped a tube of bright red lipstick back into her purse and snapped the latch closed. She pushed her way past Danni. She paused at the door, turning back to face the woman. “Thanks,” she said, “maybe I’ll see you around,” and then she turned, exiting the room.