Chapter 1

I worked as a bouncer at Throwbacks. Most nights were uneventful, which was a good thing. Wei Pearce—my boss—ran a smooth operation and didn’t tolerate stupidity. Neither did I, for that matter.

I liked it when there was nothing much to do except watch people enjoying themselves, collect money at the door, and listen to the bands that performed there. As I scanned the crowd, Sandy, one of the bartenders, caught my eye and waved me over from her spot behind the bar.

I gestured to Dawson—the other bouncer on duty—to come take my spot for a minute. Once he did, I headed over to see what was up.

Sandy kept it brief. “Boss needs you. Sounded urgent.”

“Got it.” I quickly made my way to the back of the club.

When I arrived at his office, the door was open and a familiar man was on the floor, whining about his broken, bloody nose. It was Pearce’s ex-boyfriend, Merrill. He must have slipped in when I’d stepped away from the front door for a bathroom break earlier. Dawson was fairly new to the place and wouldn’t have recognized him.

“Get rid of him, Ben,” Pearce ordered, a look of disgust on his face.

“Sure thing, boss.” I grabbed the man from the floor and hauled him away, none too gently. I passed the only other occupant in the room—John DeWitt, who was a regular at the club—on my way out.

Merrill struggled in my arms, so I held him tighter as I dragged him along. “That’s enough out of you,” I muttered.

“Wei, come on,” Merrill pleaded, still trying to free himself as I moved us down the narrow hallway. “You can’t mean to—” Pearce shut the door on his whining. Good man.

“You’re a fucking idiot, you know that?” I said as I hauled him out the back door of the club and shoved him onto the sidewalk. “You ever come back here? I’ll break your legs.” I put enough menace in my tone to get his attention.

The look of fear on Merrill’s face told me he understood. I watched him scamper off before shutting the door behind me. As I walked toward the front of the club, I heard raised voices in Pearce’s office as I passed by. Sounded like he and John were going at it, and not in a good way.

Must be something big to get under Pearce’s skin like that.

I’d seen the way Pearce watched the man, like he wanted to have him for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, all at the same time. But he’d been burned by users like Merrill once too often to be willing to take a chance on anyone. He lumped everybody in the same category now. I had high hopes for John, though.

People took him for fluff, but there was a sharp brain underneath that lovely, lithe exterior. I thanked Dawson for covering the door and took my spot once more on the stool.

The line of patrons was long, as usual. For the most part, my job wasn’t bad or really that hard. It was just the morons who thought they could get away with stuff that made things difficult sometimes. Like right now.

“I know the owner,” the overly trendy wannabe said as he tried to pass me without paying to get in.

I put out an arm to block his way. “And the owner’s name is…?” I quirked an eyebrow.

“Drew, right? We met at a club last night and hit it off. Said I should stop by whenever I wanted to.” His smile was bright and false. Maybe it worked on others, but I could smell a lie—and his cologne—at a hundred feet.

“I see. Well, sorry, no one here by that name. Either pay up, or get lost.”

The guy got huffy, as expected. “What do you know, anyway? You’re just a muscle-bound, underpaid bodyguard with more brawn than brain.”

I heard that a lot. I used that assumption to my advantage, most days. “Perhaps. But since I’m smart enough to know my boss’s name, you need to give me the money, or skedaddle. Time’s a-wasting.” I flexed a bicep and he stepped back.

Bravado fading fast, the guy tried one last tactic. “You’ll be hearing about this, and then you’ll be sorry.”

“Can’t wait,” was my reply as he flounced away, a smattering of snickers following in his wake.

I rolled my eyes and went back to collecting money and stamping skin. Some people were really lame.

* * * *

After the club closed in the wee hours of the morning, I helped the rest of the staff with cleanup.

“Good night, right?” Sandy said as she and I hauled liquor back to the bar.