Chapter 10 - An Unexpected Visitor
The rain drummed a heavy, rhythmic cadence against the tall glass windows of the upscale lounge, smudging the glow of the warm wall lamps that illuminated the dim interior. It was mid-afternoon, hours before the evening patrons would start drifting in through the heavy oak doors, leaving the room wrapped in an unusual, restorative quiet. I stood behind the polished wooden bar, wiping down the surface with a lint-free cloth while checking the inventory of the whiskey bottles lined neatly against the mirrored back wall. The broken glass from the night of my initial confrontation with Vincent had long since been swept away, but the memory of that sharp, sudden tension lingered in the grain of the floorboards.
The chime above the front entrance jingled, cutting sharply through the low, ambient hum of the room's ventilation. I didn't look up immediately, assuming it was one of the daytime delivery vendors dropping off fresh citrus or glassware.
"We're not open for service until six," I said, my voice carrying smoothly across the empty lounge as I set the cloth down.
Footsteps scraped against the hardwood floor—heavy, deliberate, and entirely too familiar. I paused, my hand resting flat against the polished bar top as I raised my eyes to the visitor stepping out from the shadows of the foyer. The man wore a sharp, charcoal-gray trench coat damp from the rain, his slicked-back dark hair framing a face I hadn't expected to see outside of the borough I had left years ago. Marcus. My former manager from the Queens gym, the man who had tried to force me to throw fights for underground bookmakers, stood right there by the red leather booths.
"Always working hard, Cassidy," Marcus said, flashing a thin, practiced smile that didn't reach his cold eyes. He shoved his hands deep into his coat pockets, stepping closer to the bar while casting an appreciative glance around the upscale interior. "Must say, you landed on your feet. Coletti's place has quite a reputation these days."
My muscles tightened into an instinctive defensive posture, my weight shifting instantly to the balls of my feet just as I had in the ring. "How did you find me, Marcus?" I asked, keeping my tone level, though my heart hammered a sharp rhythm against my ribs.
"People talk, sweetheart," Marcus replied smoothly, leaning his hip against the edge of a small wooden table surrounded by empty space. "Word gets around when a talented lightweight skips town and suddenly surfaces managing security for an underboss. And where there's Coletti money, there's a piece that rightfully belongs to the people who built your career in the first place."
"You didn't build my career," I snapped, stepping around the end of the bar to put distance between us while keeping him squarely in my line of sight. "You tried to destroy it. And whatever debt you think I owe was paid in full the day I walked out of your gym."
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Marcus chuckled, a dry, grating sound that echoed softly against the red leather seating. "Debts like yours don't expire, Cassidy. But I'm a reasonable man. We can talk terms. Or I can let Coletti know about the little baggage you brought with you into his pristine lounge." He turned toward the door, pausing with his hand on the brass handle. "I'll be back tomorrow afternoon. Have something worthwhile for me to look at, or I'll make sure your new boss learns all about your colorful history."
The door swung shut behind him, leaving me alone in the dim lounge with the scent of rain and stale adrenaline.
