Nicky had grown accustomed to the weight of gazes on him. It didn't seem to matter what suit he wore, if he kept the brim of his hat down, anything. He was sized up as a new member of Benny's crew; he was sized up as a stranger, someone still proving himself. Women's gazes stayed on him until they saw that he wasn't interested. It wasn't that he wasn't interested, but that he couldn't be.
He had stayed out of that speakeasy for the past few days. They had returned a few days after their initial visit; Shay had been seated right in front of the stage again, and Lola had been on stage again. That wrist he had been gripping, she had favored. But Benny had arranged for them to see a show at another club while they met with a guy from New York, and Shay had accompanied them on that trip. So no matter what else had gone on, at least that night the girls had probably been safe.
The blonde with those angelic blue eyes had been on stage again, and Nicky had chain-smoked and watched her. He had left without a second glance, too. She was all right. No new bruises; no blackened eyes or split lip.
But he'd had nightmares about that stricken face and wide blue eyes occupying the space between Lola's head and Shay's fist, and he had jerked awake in a cold sweat, his own fist clenching. Benny needed to stay on Shay's good side, and Nicky was keeping his head down and his eyes open.
Part of keeping his eyes open had been his awareness that he was being watched, more than he had been before. It wasn't a good feeling.
He was by nature a night owl, but at this time in the morning, his blood felt thin, and the arc of headlights in the dark felt lonely. He keyed into his place, his jacket off and shirtsleeves rolled up. The air was still and nearly warm, and he hoped the bedsheets were cool. He wanted to scrub the smell of cigarette smoke and cheap perfume off his skin, and the rotgut felt like it had made its way to his pores, but the sunrise would come soon enough.
He hadn't even taken a full step into his apartment before he paused, going for his gun. Someone else was in his place.
"Don't—I'm sorry."
The voice was feminine. Nicky relaxed slightly, but not completely. Just because the voice sounded sweet didn't mean there wasn't an equally nasty gun underneath.
And, thanks to the strange synchronicity that sometimes happened, the golden light of the lamp he turned on revealed the blonde he hadn't been able to entirely chase from his thoughts from the second he had set eyes on her. She stood just in front of the straightback wooden chair that served as his landlord's concession to possible guests; a small purse was on the floor, out of easy reach, so he doubted she was hiding a gun inside. A small pert hat was in her hands, and she wore a cream and navy dress that covered a lot more than the outfits she had worn on stage.
That was disappointing. He had hoped that if he had to dream about her waiting for him to come home, she would at least be dressed a bit more provocatively. She still looked beautiful, though. But then she wouldn't be a singer at a nightclub if she weren't.
Nicky tossed his suit jacket over the footboard and began to unbutton his shirt. "What are you sorry about, angel-face? How'd you get in here, anyway?"
"Told your landlord I'm your sister."
Nicky chuckled, tugging the tails of his shirt out of his pants. He pushed down his suspenders and took his shirt off. His rod was still in easy reach, if she had managed to fool him. Her boss and Benny were definitely friendly, and while he didn't think Benny would have sent her to hurt him, he didn't want to be surprised. "Good for you, sweetheart."
She took a few steps forward, her lips parted. "I just need to talk to you for a few minutes."
Nicky raised an eyebrow. "You have until I pass out."
He had thought, based on her employment, that the innocent schoolgirl demeanor was just an act. When he unclipped his suspenders and tossed them on the dresser, then took off his undershirt, though, she blushed to the roots of her blonde hair, and that made her blue eyes all the brighter. It took a second for her to glance away, though.
"I don't think it's going to take long," he prompted her, and sat down on the foot of his bed.
She cast a quick glance at him, then swallowed hard and picked up the wooden chair. He was barechested, and he sighed as he slipped off his shoes and socks. As long as his gun was in easy reach, he was fine.
Her wide-eyed blue gaze drifted down to his bare chest, then back up again. "The other night," she said. "When you were at the nightclub and you—you made Shay back off when he was going after Addie."
Nicky raised an eyebrow. "Lola?"
"Y-yes. Lola is what he calls her."
Nicky shrugged. "Yeah?"
She licked her lips. That sent his thoughts off in an entirely speculative direction. "Why did you?"
He shrugged again. All he needed to do was take his trousers off and he would be ready for bed, and after the night he'd had, that was sounding more and more appealing. Especially if he could talk angel-face into joining him. It was late, and he was tired, and it had been entirely too long since he had felt slender legs wrapped around his waist.
He shook his head, casting that away before it even became a fully-formed thought. He needed to kick her out, but he couldn't bring himself to do it quite yet. It had been hard enough for him to leave the club the other night.
Nicky took a long, deep breath. "She sounded like she needed help."
"You're not afraid of him?"
He would have expected the words to be breathless, admiring. Her voice was brisk and measuring. He tipped his head.
"It doesn't pay to be afraid of much in this line of work. Cautious, yeah. Afraid? No. But I don't blame Lo-what'd you say her real name was?"
"Addie."
"Yeah. Addie. I take it he's been rough with her before."
The blonde nodded, and when Nicky stood and reached for his fly, her entire body seemed to cringe inward on the chair as she turned her face away. She didn't immediately flee, though. He would have taken it as a massive blow to his ego, but it fit in with that sweet, untouched air she had; he wondered how many other guys had been seduced by it. She was so good at it that it was hard to believe it wasn't genuine.
"Relax, sister. Told you I was getting ready for bed." Normally he wouldn't have been like this, but he couldn't help pushing her. He wanted to see what she would do, because she kept surprising him. "Didn't mean to scare you, Goldilocks. You're safe now."
He intentionally stayed seated but draped the blanket over his lap, just to see if she was still distracted by his bare chest. He wasn't disappointed. "Nicky," she said. "That your first name or your last?"
"Neither, exactly." He swallowed a huge yawn. "Might be a laugh riot for me to say this, but if that hothead's gone after her before, she might want to get the law involved?"
The blonde shook her head. "They don't care. His bodyguards are cops. She has no one who can help her except me, and I have no one who can help me." She brought those earnest blue eyes up to his. "Except you."
"And how can I help? What's in it for me?"
She tilted her head. "That's what I don't really know," she said softly. "Because I don't really get you."
Even when he was punchy from exhaustion, he knew better than to answer that with any seriousness. He just shrugged, and he couldn't keep the next comment from coming out. "I know of one thing that might help convince me, but it'll involve you being a lot less skittish, angel-face."
She blushed again to the roots of her hair. A blush, a slap, or a winking acceptance was what he expected from her in response; he was disappointed, but not surprised, and too tired to feel much. "You're the only guy who stood up to him, in that place," she said quietly. "I thought you were different."
She pushed herself up, finding her purse, and Nicky swallowed. "Look, I'm sorry. She can't... I don't know, tell him she's not interested?"
"She's tried. Does he honestly strike you as the kind of man who would so easily take 'no' for an answer?"
Nicky had to admit that he didn't. He watched her seat that pert little hat back on her shining blonde hair, and fought himself for a moment before pushing himself up.
"I got a lot going on right now, sweetheart, and I don't know you from Adam's housecat. You seem like a sweet girl and so does she. But I can't be your bodyguard."
"I didn't ask you to," she pointed out, a new edge in her voice. "And when the investigators do come in, don't say I didn't tell you so."
Nicky was out of bed in a flash, grabbing her arm, his grip firm but not hard. He swung her around, and he had to give it to her; she might be scared out of her mind, but she hadn't dissolved into defensive tears. "What are you talking about?" he asked, his voice low, and he had gone from drowsy to fully awake in the space of a few heartbeats.
"Addie's been to an attorney. He's working on a case against Shay. And the people who've been around Shay? The things he's involved in? They'll come after you and the rest of Riscetti's crew. If something happens to Addie, it'll be all the faster.
"But if Shay were to..." The blonde swallowed. "To keep his distance, to stop threatening her and going after her? All this trouble would go away."
"The attorney's name?"
She shook her head. "You think I'm giving you that?"
Her voice was tough, but her blue eyes were wider. He had struck a nerve.
And her skin was so soft under his fingertips.
After a moment, he released her arm and she seemed to shake herself. "So your leverage is that if I don't convince Shay to turn his attentions elsewhere, you'll make sure that the cops come after me and the rest of Benny's guys. Even though you're afraid to go to the cops yourself."
She frowned. "If—" She seemed to catch herself as she was about to say something. "If they can't get him for hurting Addie, they'll get him for something else. But if he doesn't stop going after her, I'll make sure the rest of it doesn't go away either. The guys like him, who think they deserve to abuse the power they've been given? They're going down; we both know it. And I didn't think you were like them. Do you really want to be caught up in this? I know times have been tough, but this is no way to live. Wouldn't you rather go to bed without your conscience pricking at you?" Her blue eyes were pleading. "She needs your help. Yours. Please."
He came within a hair's breadth of laughing, but he managed to restrain himself. She had no idea, no clue—and yet, somehow, she did. "Trust me, I sleep like a baby," he told her. "But I also don't want to get jammed up because that prick can't keep his temper in check or his pants buttoned. I'll..." He sighed, watching the blush rise and pulse bright in her cheeks as she registered what he was saying. "I'll talk to Benny. But you, angel-face... what are you going to do?"
She gave him a small smile. "Whatever I can."
He rubbed his face, catching her elbow with his other hand and gently steering her the few feet to the door. "All right. Don't push your luck, sister. You'll awaken whatever remaining modicum of hospitality I have left and I'll have to offer you a bed for the night."
"You only have one."
"Backbone of solid steel and observant. Before I let you go... you wouldn't be bluffing me."
She shook her head. "But could you risk it?"
He shrugged. He knew he could, but she didn't. "You know a little too much, angel-face. I don't quite get you, either."
"There's not much to get."
"Somehow I doubt that."
It was only after he had listened to the tap of her heels on the stairs fade into nothing that he realized he didn't even know her name.