Last Man Standing

She kept walking—no, floating was a better word—toward him, a lightweight black leather jacket tucked under her arm. Six feet away, she licked her full red lips and tossed her head. Two feet from him, she stopped and cleared her throat.

Then it came, the sexiest voice he’d ever heard—the one that had branded him from the moment they’d been formally introduced at Santa Palazzo two weeks ago. “In a bar with a drink in your hand. How original.”

Lucky slid off the barstool, drained his third Scotch, then spun the empty glass back onto the bar. “What are you doing here?”

“We need to talk.”

“You could have called. Both my number and Joey’s are always with…” Lucky glanced around, rephrased what he’d been about to say. Frank was supposed to be dead. He couldn’t very well claim that a dead man had his son’s phone number. “You can reach me day and night at that number.”

“Listen, you…you know why I didn’t call. Here, or someplace private?”

“How did you know where to find me?”

She glanced at the empty glass. “It wasn’t hard. My first stop was the Stardust at Masado Towers. When I didn’t find you there, the bartender mentioned a few places not far from your house. I just happened to see this place—” she glanced at Melody “—and thought it looked like you.” Her eyes found him once more. “You might say fate has dropped me in your lap.”

Elena’s sexy backside appeared in Lucky’s mind, and he would have liked nothing better than her seated on his lap. Keeping his thoughts to himself, he asked, “Was it Jimmy at the Stardust who gave you my home address?”

“I already had your home address. I found it in the black book. Listen, you…” She took a step closer. “I’m not as ingenuo as I look, so let’s stop playing games and get to it.”

“That means what, exactly?”

“It means I didn’t come all this way to count snow-flakes and share a drink with you in some sleazy bar. I’m here for the truth, and I’m sure you know what I’m talking about.”

The bravado she was trying to sell him didn’t match the way her hands nervously rubbed her slender thighs. He liked her hands, her small fingers and tiny unpainted nails. He also liked the fact that she didn’t wear a lot of jewelry or a pound of makeup.

But then, she didn’t need to. She was her mother’s daughter. As beautiful as a midnight star and twice as bright. She was the sea witch, after all.

He shifted in hopes that the pain in his lower back would ease, and that the straining going on inside his jeans didn’t accidentally move the safety off his .22 and blow him to hell and back.

He said, “You shouldn’t be here.”

“Here, as in here—” she eyed the men staring at her, then glanced at Melody again, who was now on all fours, her backside rolling with the music in a circular motion that had netted her several more green bills tucked into her G-string “—or are you talking about here, as in the big bad city of Chicago, where crime never sleeps?”

Without intending to, Lucky found himself grinning, enjoying her wit as much as her sexy voice. But it was short-lived as Moody Trafano eased off his barstool and started toward them.

Like the other men, Moody had been watching Elena since she’d entered the bar. It was no secret that Trafano had a healthy appetite for pretty women, or that he spent more time on his back at the Shedd than sitting at the bar.

As he closed the distance, Lucky reached out and slid his arm around Elena’s trim waist and hauled her into his space. “We’re getting company,” he whispered. “Be careful what you say. Don’t get that pretty mouth of yours in trouble. Say nothing about who you are or why you’re here.”

Lucky’s nose brushed her silky cheek, noting that her skin felt as soft and smooth as satin. He couldn’t pinpoint her unusual scent, but he didn’t need to name it to know he liked it.

She looked up at him with her catlike gold eyes just as Moody said, “You must be the new dancer we’ve all been expecting. My name’s Moody Trafano, the soon-to-be owner of the Shedd. And you are?”

Elena held Lucky’s gaze for a few seconds longer, then slowly turned around. She’d said she wasn’t naive, but Lucky was sure she’d never dealt with a snake quite as slippery as Moody.

In a single glance Elena took Moody’s measure, but didn’t offer him her name. Good girl, Lucky thought. So far so good.

“You’ve got to be the most beautiful doll in this place,” Moody complimented her. “And there’s plenty here to compete with.” His eyes left Elena’s face to ogle the tanned swell of her breasts, then settled on her flat stomach and the gold ring in her navel. “How long have you been dancing?”

He raised his hand as if he couldn’t control the urge to touch her a moment longer. Like a bulldog protecting his bone, Lucky grabbed Moody’s wrist and squeezed. “I never share, Trafano. I never learned how. Get lost.”

Moody wrenched his arm away. “She’s the Shedd’s property. That means she’s anyone’s fun if you got the bucks to spend, Masado. And I got plenty. Technically she’s mine as soon as old man Tandi dies.”

Lucky would have liked nothing better than to enlighten Moody on his recent deal with Vito and explain to him who actually owned the Shedd. He would have loved to watch Moody crap a brick in front of a full house when he heard he wasn’t going to get a dime of Vito Tandi’s fortune. Instead, he said, “The lady isn’t a dancer, Trafano. Back off and have your fun with someone who likes snake oil.”

“Lady?” Moody snorted. “This place don’t get ladies in it.” Eyes back on Elena, he said, “Sorry, doll, but facts are facts, right? And speaking of facts, a piece of information you’ll appreciate is that Masado, here, is physically challenged. It’s a known fact that drunks can’t keep it up. I’m thinking maybe he can’t even get it up anymore.”

Normally Lucky would have driven the man’s teeth down his throat for the insult, but he didn’t feel like throwing any punches tonight.

Actually he hadn’t felt like it in weeks, which was why he was going to let Moody’s remark go by, instead of stomping on his throat and breaking his windpipe.

“What do you say you let me buy you a drink, sweet milk? I’m sure we can find a quiet place to talk. Better yet, how about taking a walk down the red carpet with me? You might as well get initiated by the best. And around here, I’m the best. The girls call me the Italian Stallion.”

Lucky felt Elena’s hand slide between them, and before he believed she would do it, she had stolen his knife. A half second later the stiletto was touching Moody’s jugular. “I’ve made my choice tonight, Mr. Stallion. Unless you want to be gelded right here, I suggest you trot on back to where you came from.”

Her words sent a roar of laughter around the bar, and the color draining from Moody’s face.

How Elena knew where she could find one of his knives was as much a mystery to Lucky as how she’d learned to wield it with such expertise. And by the look on Moody’s face, he was wondering the same damn thing.

While the crowd continued to laugh and enjoy the show at Moody’s expense, Lucky took hold of Elena’s wrist and confiscated the stiletto. The blade back in his pocket, he stuck her to him like a postage stamp, spun her around and started to usher her toward the back rooms.

Before they reached the privacy of the hallway, Elena tried to wriggle out of his hold, but Lucky only squeezed her closer to him and said, “Basta, Elena. No more. We don’t need another scene.”

“I’m not afraid of that albino lizard,” she spat. “He’s a parassita. A sleazy maiale. A pig who—”

To shut her up, Lucky grabbed her around the waist and lifted her off her feet, so that she was dangling at his side. “If you’re not going to shut up,” he said, “I’m going to—”

“The last man who manhandled me, I spit in his face. Let go or I’ll—”

She looked as if she was about to do as she’d warned. He swore, then planted his mouth over hers more to shock her into rethinking that move than anything else. He set her back on her feet a split second later and jerked her into step with him once more. “Walk, Elena, with your mouth shut,” he warned. “Disgracing a man like Trafano in public isn’t smart. Sexy sass a liquored-up man can handle. A woman sticking a knife up his nose he takes personally.”

Lucky glanced over his shoulder to see that Moody hadn’t moved, his angry eyes drilling Elena’s back. His cheeks were no longer pale, but as red as Melody’s spinning red nipple twizzlers.

Elena stopped trying to peel his fingers off her hip. And as he continued to escort her down the back hallway, the one covered in plush red carpet, she asked, “Where are you taking me?”

“Some place private.”

She looked around, her gaze darting to the many doors lining the hallway. “Aren’t these the rooms where…” She looked at him. “I thought we were going to talk.”

“That’s what I planned. You thinking something else?”

He glanced down and caught her glaring at him, the action drawing his attention to the golden flecks in her brown eyes. Had Frank known she wasn’t his flesh and blood? Lucky wondered. Had he known from the beginning she wasn’t his daughter? He had to have known the minute he’d seen her eyes.

She had her mother’s straight little nose and full lips. Her mother’s silky hair. But her eyes…she had her daddy’s eyes.

Yes, he’d noticed her curvy body seconds before he’d noticed her sexy voice. But way before that, he’d noticed her eyes. The eyes that defied the lies and spoke the truth of who she really was.

“Where did you learn to handle a knife like that?” he asked, hoping conversation would keep his mind off how good she smelled and how much his .22 was cutting into his groin.