Run (3 page)

He would have her.

“I apologize for your wait, sir. Welcome to
Arthur’s
, I’m Arthur. What can I get you today?”

Now the old bastard decided to wait on him? Without taking his gaze off of the girl behind the bar, Dare jerked his thumb in that direction. “I’d like her to serve me.”

When he didn’t receive an immediate response, Dare turned to look at the old man whose brows were furrowed as he shifted from side to side in obvious discomfort.

“Is there a problem?”

“No, Mr…”

“O’Shaughnessy.”

The old man seemed to lose color. “I, er, well, there’s no problem at all, Mr. O’Shaughnessy, but I’d be just as happy to take care of you. Aya doesn’t usually serve customers. She normally stays behind the scenes.”

So that was her name. He mentally sounded it out before testing it on his tongue “Aya,” he whispered, it suited her.

Dare pushed away from the table and stood up without another word and headed toward the bar.

Arthur was in front of him and placed a hand on Dare’s arm. “Wait Mr. O’Shaughnessy, there’s no need for you to get up. I’ll take care of whatever it is you need.” The man almost seemed frantic. Was the girl his wife? It was more common than naught for older men to have much younger wives, even in the merchant class. But, Dare had made up his mind. He looked pointedly at the hand restraining him. His heart beat began to race as he felt his temper slipping away.

The older man must have recognized the danger he was in because slowly he backed away. “Please, Sir…”

“What’s going on?” The husky timber of a female’s voice interrupted them.

Dare slowly turned to face the cause of this dissention. He stood a full head or more above Aya, who seemed to be more focused on the proprietor than him. It gave him a few precious seconds for a quick head to toe tour of her body. The t-shirt and ill-fitting jeans were baggy and worn, he assumed, to conceal but he could see the curves beneath. Yes. He would have Aya on her back, on her knees and however else he wanted to take her. It wasn’t a matter of if but when.

A smirk curved his lips. “I’m looking for service. And from the looks of things, I’m being refused my request.”

Aya turned her head and her gaze collided with his. She opened her mouth as if to say something but immediately closed it. She glanced at the old man again.

He patted her on the shoulder. “It’s okay. Why don’t you check on the kitchen for me, I’ll handle Mr. O’Shaughnessy.”

Again Aya looked at him, her dark eyes widened. “O’Shaughnessy? As in the O’Shaughnessy who owns that disgusting game?”

“Aya!” Arthur scolded.

Dare raised a brow. This wasn’t the first time someone had spoken out against The Run but no one had ever had the nerve to say it to his face. It seemed the little barmaid had more spirit than sense. “I’d like a drink. Whiskey. Stiff. And, I want you to bring it to my table. I’m a busy man so I don’t like to be kept waiting.”

Aya balled her small fists at her sides. “Who do you—”

“Think I am?” he cut her off. “I’m an impatient man who wants his drink. Your customer service skills are questionable considering how fast businesses, particularly ones like this close all the time. Sometimes for lesser infractions.” He turned his back to them and headed back to his table fully expecting his drink.

Before Aya could tell that asshole exactly what he could do with that drink, Uncle Arthur caught her arm in a tight grip and ushered her toward the kitchen.

“Aya, do you know who the hell that man is out there?” her uncle hissed at her before she could speak.

“Yes, he’s the jerk who traffics women for the pleasure of bored rich people who have nothing better to spend their money on.”

“It’s voluntary. The women are there of their own free will and that has nothing to do with us.”

Aya snorted. “We both know that isn’t true. Those women are sold like animals and most of them have no choice if they want to feed their families or even eat. Uncle Arthur, you’ve heard the stories. Some of those so called hunters are sadistic perverts. A handful of these women end up tortured and mutilated, not to mention a lot of them end up committing suicide. Why is that man even here? One would think an Elite wouldn’t step foot in a place like this.”

“Like I said, how O’Shaughnessy makes his money is none of our business. And, it really doesn’t matter why he’s here. That man could cause serious trouble for us if you don’t watch your mouth. Do you understand?”

“But—”

“Just shut up! Don’t say anything and let me handle it.”

His raised tone stunned her. Her uncle rarely lost his temper unlike herself and to see him in this heightened state of distress was enough for her to take note. She already felt guilty about him bailing her out with money they barely had. Aya didn’t want to cause him any further trouble.

“I’m sorry, Uncle Arthur. You’re right. I spoke out of turn.”

The older man sighed. “Honey, one of the things I love about you is your passion and how you speak your mind when you feel something needs to be said. I never want to silence your voice but I just ask that you use a little discretion, okay?”

She nodded. “Okay.”

He pulled her in his arms for a brief hug. “All right then. Let me go out there and take care of Mr. O’Shaughnessy. The sooner he’s served, the faster we can get him out of here.”

Aya placed a hand on her uncle’s chest. “No. Let me handle it. I promise I won’t do anything stupid. He asked me for specifically. I think he’s just on a power trip. You know how these types are.”

"Aya, that’s not why he wants you.”

“Of course it is.” She waved her hand dismissively.

Uncle Arthur closed his eyes with a sigh. “You’re a smart woman but it never ceases to amaze me how oblivious you can be about something that’s so obvious to anyone who looks at you.”

"I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Exactly.”

This conversation was taking a turn that made Aya slightly uncomfortable. Her mother had been by far the most beautiful woman she’d seen. She’d been told she was the spitting image of her late mother, but when Aya looked in the mirror, she never saw it. She couldn’t acknowledge something she couldn’t see. “The man practically threatened to have this place shut down. It’s best if I get his drink. You’ll have to trust me.”

Arthur seemed to debate his options before giving in with a sigh. “Fine, but I’ll be watching.”

“Don’t worry.” She gave him a quick hug and headed out of the kitchen.

Aya took a deep breath as she made her way to the bar being careful not to look in the direction of the asshole supreme. As she poured his drink, she was tempted to spit in it. With each move she made, Aya could feel his heated gaze on her. She wasn’t naive about men like him. They acted like they owned everything they saw. He was toying with them and threatening their livelihood because he could.

She used as much time as she dared to fix his drink before walking toward him, still refusing to make eye contact. Aya forced herself not to slam the glass down in front of him. “Will that be all, sir?” she asked through gritted teeth while she kept her gaze planted on her feet.

“Look at me.”

Aya didn’t want to stare into eyes so deep a green they were almost hypnotizing. They were her favorite shade and she resented the hell out of him for that. Thoughts of her uncle forced her to comply. Slowly, she raised her head until she met his gaze full on. That cruel smirk curved his lips.

“If there’s nothing else, I need to see to the needs of the other customers.”

“I was under the impression from the proprietor that you don’t deal with customers. Which one of you is lying?”

She bit the inside of her lip to hold back an angry retort.

The bastard had the nerve to chuckle. “No need to answer. I can see he was just protecting what’s his. I can’t say I blame him. What are you to him?”

“I don’t think that’s any of your business.”

“Fair enough.” He picked up his drink and took a sip all while his gaze roamed the bar. After placing the glass down, the smirk returned. “How much do you think a place like this would cost if someone wanted to invest for the purposes of tearing it down and rebuilding?”

The blood pounded in her head and she dug her nails into her palms. “He’s my uncle.”

He nodded in seeming approval. “Have a seat, Aya.”

She didn’t like how he used her name as if he had the right but she complied. “Look Mr. O’Shaughnessy, I don’t know what you’re trying to do here, but we don’t want any trouble. We’re sorry if you haven’t found the service to your satisfaction but we just want to be left alone. Please.”

“You seem like an intelligent woman. I would have thought it was fairly obvious what I wanted.”

She folded her hands in her lap and clinched them tightly together to keep herself from trembling. This couldn’t be happening. There had to be a way she could get herself out of this. She opted to play dumb. “I have no clue what you’re talking about.”

He narrowed his eyes. “I think you do. In fact, I know you do. So, let’s not play games. You can make this really easy on yourself. You and your uncle will be taken care of for as long as I want you. And when I no longer do, you’ll be well compensated. You’ll be under my protection.”

She fought back the urge to attack him. The arrogant son of a bitch. “And what if I don’t make things easy on myself?”

“I don’t think you want to know. But, the end result will be the same. I will have you.”

Again, his intense stare roamed her body, lingering over the curve of her breasts. She felt naked beneath that gaze and something else she couldn’t put her finger on. A heat she couldn’t explain surged within her body but she refused to acknowledge it. Aya couldn’t stop shaking. She knew he was trouble the minute she’d seen him but she never imagined things would turn out like this.

A hand fell on her shoulder. “That’s enough, O’Shaughnessy. My niece isn’t for sale. Please leave.”

Uncle Arthur. Bless his heart. She could have wept with relief but she knew this wouldn’t end well.

The bastard didn’t seem the least bit phased. “Have it your way.” He stood up.

Knowing she now had nothing to lose, Aya stood with him. “Mr. O’Shaughnessy. You forgot something.”

He raised a brow in acknowledgement.

“Your drink.” And with that, she picked up his unfinished glass of whiskey and threw it in his face.

They were so screwed.

 
“I don’t understand how they can do this. Your liquor license isn’t up for renewal until next year. They can’t just revoke it.”

Uncle Arthur rested his head in his palms. He looked every bit of his sixty-one years in that moment. “There was some loophole about not getting some type of requested documentation to them on time. I tried to explain to them I’d received nothing but apparently they weren’t interested in hearing my story.”

“Getting any kind of communication in this town is spotty at best. We don’t have regular mail delivery unless we pay an exorbitant fee and we can’t afford that. They know this. You’ve always been able to go to the licensing and gaming office directly and there’s never been a problem.” Aya sank down in a seat across from her uncle, with a gnawing sensation in the pit of her stomach. She had a pretty good idea why this was happening but she didn’t dare say the words out loud lest she gave them more power than they actually deserved.

“Apparently, not this time. I was told there was an appeals process but it’s by appointment and no one would be able to see me for at least six months.”

Aya slammed her palms on the table. “That’s outrageous! In the meantime, how are we supposed to run a bar if we can’t sell alcohol? We’ll be ruined by then, especially since that new place down the street will be opening soon. I’ve never seen an establishment go up so quickly. It’s not like business owners are rushing to sell their merchandise in our part of town. We barely do enough business to get by ourselves.”

Arthur raised his eyes. His eyes glistened with the suspicious sheen of tears. Aya’s heart broke seeing her uncle this way. “There has to be something we can do. Maybe we can just continue selling the alcohol anyway. It’s not like the inspectors come through that often.”

“The wholesalers won’t sell to us without our license and the inventory we have now will only last roughly a month, maybe slightly longer if we’re frugal and water the drinks down. Let’s stop kidding ourselves. He’s behind it. There’s no point in tiptoeing around the matter.”

Aya balled her hands into fists, wishing she could hit something. “We can’t be certain,” she said more to convince herself than for any other reason. But deep down, she knew the truth. Dare O’Shaughnessy was out to not only exact his revenge for his treatment, he was out to destroy them.

“Don’t be so naïve, Aya. No one else who has that kind of money at their disposal to get through all the red tape of opening up a business in this town would want to. If you haven’t had a chance to look around, most of the residents in this area are barely making it. The only reasons we’ve been able to keep our doors open are because we’re the only bar for miles and the high rate of alcoholism in this neighborhood. If someone wanted to turn a pretty profit, this wouldn’t be the place to do it. You know that man is behind it.”

Everything he said made sense. At the first glance, she didn’t think O’Shaughnessy was the type of man to go so far to prove a point but apparently he was. Not only did it seem like he was out to close them down, but he wanted to completely destroy them in the process. At her uncle’s age, it wasn’t likely he’d find work, at least nothing that paid a living wage. As for Aya, her only work experience was this bar. She wasn’t educated beyond what was provided by the government for free which didn’t amount to much beyond learning how to read, write, and basic math. Even though she’d learned beyond what most people did in her socio-economic background, it still didn’t equal the fancy education the Elites were able to provide their children. Aya owed her advanced knowledge to her uncle, who had managed to get a hold of old books from an abandoned library.

As a woman, her choices were limited. Without a degree in a secondary school, the best she could do was get a job in a bar or restaurant, neither job would pay enough for two people to get by on. The other alternative made her shudder.

Besides regular living expenses, she had her uncle’s health to consider. Without the steady income the bar would bring, he would no longer be able to afford the insurance policy that covered his heart medication. She feared with the stress he was currently under, he couldn’t afford to go without it.

“We’ll think of something. If we have to close down, I’ll take another job, two, or three if I have to.”

Uncle Arthur raised his head and shook it vehemently. “I got us into this mess. I’ll get us out of it.”

Aya reached across the table and gripped her uncle’s hand. “You’re not to blame. You couldn’t have known that obnoxious man would go this far.”

He released a heavy sigh. “I knew what that man was about the minute he laid eyes on you. The way he looked at you…his type always thinks they can have whatever they want and I couldn’t let it happen. Not this time.”

Aya sensed there was something more her uncle wasn’t telling her so she pressed him to continue. “What do you mean by, ‘this time’?”

He looked in her direction but didn’t quite meet her eyes as if he were embarrassed. She couldn’t figure out why. He was usually very direct whenever he spoke to her. “I failed your mother and I couldn’t do the same with you.”

“I still don’t follow.”

He fidgeted in his chair. “I was hoping I never had to tell you this story but I should have known this would come back to haunt me. I thought if I did right by you, then that would make things right but…I’ve been carrying this guilt with me every day since your mother died. Every time I look at you, I see my baby sister.”

“Uncle Arthur, you’re not making any sense. Just tell me.”

“I just don’t want you to hate me.”

“I could never hate you. I love you.”

“And I love you, too, girl, as if you were my own.”

She smiled at his sincerity but it didn’t abate the curiosity eating away at her. Aya gave his hand another squeeze. “Whatever it is you have to say, I promise I won’t hate you.”

He took a deep breath and exhaled. “You remember when you and your mother came to live with me?”

“Yes. Daddy was killed. After he died, I don’t remember my mother smiling much, if at all.” Her father had been a participant in a mass protest for better wages at a power plant where he’d worked. The executives had not only been unwilling to negotiate with the workers, they’d called the enforcers on them for trespassing. In turn, the enforcers had opened fire on the crowd with military style weapons, killing close to a hundred people. Her father had been among the casualties. Neither the executives of the plant nor the enforcers, who had perpetuated the massacre, were held accountable for what they had done. It was still referred to as Bloody Friday.

“Right. At the time, I was barely making ends meet. I was working at the old mill that was on the verge of being shut down. To help out, your mother decided to take a job cleaning houses. I told her I would take another job to help support us but your mother wouldn’t hear of it. Once she set her mind on something, there was no talking her out of it. She was stubborn. That’s where you get it from.” A ghost of a smile tilted her uncle’s lips as he talked about his beloved younger sister. He didn’t often talk about her mother but when he did, there was always a twinkle in his eye.

“She actually began to make decent money cleaning houses and for a while, I didn’t think anything of the extra money she would bring in. In fact, she was making more money than I was at the mill. We were living comfortably, at least as comfortable as we could in our situation. The first time she came home with a bruise on her arm the size of an orange, she dismissed it as an accident on the job. But then she started coming home with cuts and bruises regularly. She refused to tell me what was happening to her. Violet was losing weight and she always looked tired. She’d wake up screaming in the middle of the night. But, she still refused to tell me what was going on.”

Aya remembered not long before her mother died how she began to look sickly. Her uncle had always been vague about her mother’s death and what the exact cause was. But from bit and pieces he had told her over the years, she’d figured it was because her mother had caught the attention of the wrong person. Her uncle had always insisted her death had been an accident.

“Her death wasn’t an accident, was it?”

Uncle Arthur squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. “No.”

“How did she die?”

“You mother was so full of life. She liked to laugh and had this smile that would light up a room. She was so beautiful, men would literally stop in their tracks when she walked by. I can’t even begin to tell you how many fights I got into when we were kids trying to protect her from some boy who tried to get out of line with her.” A faint smile briefly curved his lips as he reminisced. “You’re a lot like her. Not just in looks but temperament, too. Like I said, she caught the eye of many men and there were several who could have offered her a very comfortable lifestyle but she only had eyes for your father.”

“You’re hedging.”

“You’re right. You’re right. I, uh…I was getting concerned for her safety so one day I took off work and followed her. She wasn’t cleaning houses like she claimed she was. There was only one house she went to. Some sadistic bastard was using her for his sick pleasure.”

“How did you find out exactly?”

“I saw her go into that house and I waited. She didn’t come out for hours and while I waited, I could only imagine what was going on in there. When she finally came out of the house, she was in worse shape than I had ever seen her. I lost my cool. I charged into that house and beat that bastard to a pulp. The only thing that stopped me from killing him was your mother. I guess I’m lucky he didn’t call the enforcers on me. After we left that place, I told your mother she was never going back but she wouldn’t listen. In fact, she said he wanted her to move in with him. I forbade it but she said she’d made up her mind. She wanted to make sure we were taken care of. I couldn’t talk her out of it. Her only concession was leaving you with me.”

Things Aya had forgotten had begun to come back to her, like how her mother had been there one day and then she was gone. She had been told her mother had gone to get treatment. Her mother had promised she’d be back but when she walked out the door, it was the last time Aya had seen her mother alive. She trembled with sadness and anger on her mother’s behalf.

“She was dead within a week,” he continued. “That son of a bitch murdered my sister and he gave me a goddamn lump sum of cash as if that would make things right. It was blood money and I wanted to throw it back in that mother fucker’s face but I had you to look after. I’d failed my baby sister and I would be damned if I would let the same thing happen to you. I used that money to open this bar. I’ve done my best to protect you, kept you away from the boys, made you wear baggy clothes, and kept your hair short. But in the long run, it didn’t matter. I don’t care if we lose everything but I couldn’t let that man get you. I’m sorry, I failed your mother. And, I’m sorry I failed you.” Uncle Arthur cupped his hands over his face.

Aya blinked back the burning sting of her tears. Her heart broke for her uncle to see everything he’d worked for come crashing down around him and all because a spoiled Elite asshole couldn’t take no for an answer. It hurt to learn of the guilt he must have carried around with him all these years. She hated what had happened to her mother but she couldn’t hate her uncle. He would have been pretty powerless to get any justice against an Elite without finding himself in prison. But, she was angry. Mad as hell, actually, to know no matter what, the Elites would always come out on top. People like her were insignificant in the eyes of those with the money and power.

Taking a deep breath, she pushed away from the table and stood up. “If the bar closes, maybe you could sell this place to a developer. We could use the money to get a small apartment and I’ll find work.”

Uncle Arthur raised his head. “Doing what? Don’t answer. I see that look in your eyes and know what you’re thinking. Don’t do it. I won’t let you.”

“We have no choice. It’s not illegal and I wouldn’t be the first woman to do it. It’s the oldest profession in the world. Or so they say. There’s no shame in trying to make an honest living.”

His eyes narrowed to angry slits. “I won’t have you making a living on your back!”

“Better on my back than in chains. Would you rather I volunteer for The R—?”