“I don’t wanna hear about it.” Poor woman. “Look, Artie, I’m off the clock. This time is my own.”
He wiped his palms on his thighs and stood. “Sure thing, kitten. I have some business of my own to tend to.”
“Club meeting?”
Both Vera and Artie turned toward the new voice.
Carson Kelly leaned against the doorjamb, his arms folded, his form occupying most of the frame. He removed his homburg and held it over his heart, the way he always did when he greeted Vera. A half smirk appeared on his face, his stare as blank as her high school diploma.
Her mind clouded. Was he irritated? In deep thought? “Come on in, Cars.” She jumped to her feet, motioning with her hand. “Artie was just goin’.” A trio in this overrated coat closet stifled the air, and tolerating any more of Artie’s antics would suffocate what was left of her patience.
“See you tomorrow, Vera.”
She mustered a smile, drawing pleasure as Artie skedaddled.
Carson pulled her to his side and kissed her cheek, the smell of aftershave filling her senses.
She rested her head on his lapel and felt his muscles tense.
“Cavenhalt didn’t acknowledge me. That louse.”
Carson wasn’t one to dish out approval, especially where Artie was concerned. She glanced up at Carson in time to catch his dark eyes narrowing on her.
“He giving you trouble? You know I only keep him around because he’s your cousin.”
Her chance arrived. What if she whined a couple of choice words and mixed in some tears? Could be the perfect recipe for kicking Artie out for good. She bit her lip, toying with temptation. But wrecking him came with the risk of sabotaging herself. Artie would squeal on her for sure. “Nothin’ I can’t handle.”
“It’s closing time.” He squeezed her side and then released her. “Let’s go.”
“I don’t mind walking, if you’re busy.” Regret spiraled through her. How could she say that? She hadn’t forgotten about the note. And just because she hadn’t spotted the creep didn’t mean he wasn’t there. He could still be around. Waiting. Yeah, she’d camp out on the dance floor before strutting home solo.
“No, I got some news you need to hear.” His attention fixed on the mirror as he straightened his tie. “What do you have left to do here?”
She scanned the sparse surroundings. “Just grab my things.”
“Don’t be long. I’ll be at the bar.” With a nod, he strode out, his pompous gait entirely unlike the mystery hero’s from earlier in the evening.
Staring at the empty doorway, her mind traveled to the swift moment of tonight’s rescue. What intrigued her about that man? Sure, he’d taken the wallop for her, but something else had struck her. Had she seen him before? No. He had a face that would stamp any girl’s memory. It was almost like a connection had been made. A silent linking.
She laughed.
Boy, she was getting batty.
Just because the man had shown a small dose of gallantry and had an appearance more brilliant than anything Hollywood could produce, she’d conjured up an instant bond. Could she be more pitiful? Or wrong? Chivalry only existed in fairy tales. And white knights didn’t grace the soiled floors of the Kelly Club.
Pulling back a handful of wavy tresses, she leaned in, checking if Max Factor had done his job. Nope. No trace of the reputable greasepaint on her scar. Good thing her hair covered the side of her face, or the ugly thing would’ve been showcased to the world tonight.
She pressed her finger over the discolored skin, the thin line stretching from her temple to her upper cheek. You aren’t worth anything to anyone. Her breath caught. Why hadn’t his growling voice faded from her head years ago? She snatched her powder and smeared her face with an ivory sheen, careful not to get any in her eye, until the marking was no longer visible. If only she could erase the memories.
She shot her arms through the sleeves of her coat, shoved a handkerchief into her pocket in case the dust and smoke in the air made her nose drip, and pulled the overhead string to shut off the light.
With the grace of a blind elephant, Vera plodded into the main room where Carson chatted with Angelo. Her poise had clocked out after her last number. Vera’s rubbery legs weren’t up for the labyrinth of tables barricading the bar. Instead, she crossed the empty dance floor, her heels a choppy cadence against the wooden slats.
Both men turned, but her brawny guard spoke first. “Hey, there.”
She joined them. “Still hanging around, Angelo? Don’t ya split at closing?” Or had Carson paid him overtime to babysit her? Usually, those schemes annoyed her, but not tonight. The idea of Steely-Eye being outside made her spine rigid.
“Yeah.” He palmed the back of his neck. “I’m just waiting for Artie to come out of his office. He had some sort of job for me.”
Carson downed the final drops of amber liquid in his glass. “You ready, baby?”
“Sure.” She flashed a smile like the three painted girls on the Iron City Lager sign collecting dust behind the rows of long-necked bottles. If Carson was as enthralled with her as this area was devoted to their hometown brew, then all her problems would disappear. Well, most of them, anyway.
Carson only nodded. “So am I. See you, Vinelli.”
“Later, boss.” Angelo nodded, then slid his gaze to Vera. “Have a good night.”
Vera waved. “Catch you tomorrow.”
“Nope. Leonard’s covering.” The guard rinsed out Carson’s cup, mildly surprising Vera. Angelo wasn’t a busboy, but then the boss of the club demanded his workers wear several hats. “I’m here in the morning.”
“Dust don’t stir in this place until the evening.” Her stomach twisted at the thought of Leonard being her personal guard. She’d welcome Angelo’s oppressive vigilance over Leo’s negligence. The man had a penchant for escaping into the storage room with his flask, leaving her vulnerable.
Angelo stacked the glass with the others and tossed the dishtowel over his shoulder. “It’s the last Wednesday of the month. I’m needed in the offices.”
Her mouth formed an O. She hadn’t the faintest notion why Angelo was needed on that particular day each month, but she knew better than to ask. The business office of Carson Kelly Enterprises had stood here before the club’s existence and had since acted as a buffer should any government man come around snooping. Though now, feds, as well as cops, were some of their best customers.
Carson’s hand wrapped her elbow, and they stepped out into the night air.
“Where’s your car?” Artie’s beat-up Ford was the only vehicle sullying the lot.
He withdrew his touch. “I parked around the side. Wait here.”
Vera opened her mouth, but words wouldn’t come. That gut feeling prickled her insides. Carson walked into the shadows. She was alone.
CHAPTER 3
The chill of the night air smacked Vera’s face, along with a couple of sprinkles.
With the club being stuffed between a blast furnace and a steel plant that worked longer hours than she, noises resounded, unyielding. Clinks and clanks. Whooshes and hisses. And just like those steel men who tirelessly pounded at hot metal, creating sparks which burnt the hair off their arms, the familiar sounds relentlessly thrashed her spiked nerves, searing her throat dry.