Moments of Malevolence (The Hunters Book 1)

TALK ABOUT INTIMIDATING.

All those men are daunting.

But that one that looks like he walked straight in from an all-black party, with eyes as green as the forest and lips curved into the perfect heart shape, is the most haunting of them all.

A little too intense for me.

“They’re asking for you,” Louise says as I attempt to deliver drinks to my original tables. She goes to take them from me, but I shake my head.

“I need the tips, Louise. Why the fuck do you think I work here? Those men haven’t tipped me anything. My table…” I nod to where my customers are seated, “tip every time I bring them drinks.”

She bites her lip. “Okay, sorry. I’ll tell them you’re busy.” She turns away, and a small part of me feels bad, but I shake it off and march straight past the area with the intense, powerful men, and I don’t spare them a glance as I head to my tables.

My customers grin at me, and one even slaps my ass—fucking bastard. I can’t help the cringe and want to break his hand, but instead, I smile like a good girl because I know he will tip me well. I turn, handing him his drink, and he tips me a hundred-dollar bill and leans up so his smelly breath is next to my ear as he speaks.

“Come on, darlin’, come home with me. I can show you how to ride a cowboy. We can even leave those boots on.”

Talk about ew.

His belly is hanging over his pants, his hair is half missing, his teeth need a good brush with an angle grinder, and he stinks.

The rest, I can deal with.

I’ve fucked a cuddly teddy bear before, and he was the best man to ever give me head. The. Best.

But someone who stinks and has bad breath? That’s a hard no.

I wouldn’t say I’m all that picky.

But I do have standards, and I know what I want.

I don’t want commitment.

I want a man who will throw me against the wall and fuck me good and hard.

This man cannot do that.

Of that, I am sure.

“I’m good, but thanks anyway.” I give my best smile as I turn to leave. He reaches for me again, and I manage to sidestep him as I shift away from their booth. Just as I reach the bottom of the steps with tray in hand, I slam into a hard body. When I peek up, the man from Louise’s table who asked my name is standing before me. He reaches out and steadies me, his hand gripping my waist, so I don’t fall. As soon as I’m stable, his hand drops away from my body like it felt wrong to touch me.

It didn’t.

Not for me anyway.

“Sorry, didn’t see you there.” I smile at him. He stares past me and says nothing, then his jaw locks in a hard glare before those green eyes find mine. Seeing him this close with only a tray between us, I notice the flecks of gold in his eyes.

Those eyes—they stare straight through you.

Deadly.

If I were a smart woman, I would look away.

But I live on the edge, and he seems like a man it would be fun to annoy, and despite all the warnings I have received I just can’t help myself with him.

I go to wonder why, but instantly ignore that feeling and smile up at him.

“Do you plan to just stand there, or do you intend to move?” I ask as he continues staring at me.

He doesn’t bother moving out of my way.

Ha.

I go to move around him, and he shoots an arm out to stop me.

“Alaska?” he asks. I’m not sure if it was a question, but that voice.

Why does it do something to me?

I’m used to hearing all kinds of men speak. After all, it’s what I do for my other job.

But his voice…

“We asked for you. Serve us!” He strides off, looking back over his shoulder before he gets back to his table. The tables have some privacy, but not a lot. They have a full view of the dance floor and small separators in the middle, with steps that lead to where they are seated. His table is about three away from my main table, and from a side view, I guess he could see me from where I was.

Managing to paste a pleasant expression on my face, I make my way to his table. Louise is already standing there, trying to pour them drinks, but none of them are paying her any attention. I grab the bottle from her, and she blows out a relieved breath, then leans up and kisses me on the cheek before she turns and runs off.

Yes, she fucking runs.

“Are you fucking her?” the man with green eyes asks when I turn to face him. Standing directly in front of him, I see he still doesn’t have a glass, so I pick one up and hold it out to him.

“Take it.” He does as I say, and I pour him a shot over the ice. He watches me, not moving the glass and not saying another word, as he waits for me to reply to his fucking question.

I’m not sure I should.

He’s a customer, and I lie to them to get them to tip me well.

Now, some customers would be turned on by the fact I could be sleeping with a woman. This one, though, scans me as if he wants the truth, and he seems to be someone who always gets the truth no matter the cost.

“Will that be all?” I ask him, not answering his question but standing as close as possible, bent over with my tits in his face. And I have some great tits. But not once do his eyes stray from my face.

“Are. You. Fucking. Her?” he asks again.

I straighten and stare down at him. “The possibility is there,” I add with a wink before turning to the other men, who are all watching on intently. I glance at their drinks, note they are still full, and then I spin on my heel to leave to check in on my other customers.

“Are you lying?” he asks.

I stop stock still on the stairs and glance back over my shoulder at him.

“You don’t tip well enough to get an answer.” I walk off, feeling like pressure lifts of my chest.

That was intense. I keep thinking it but it’s true.

He is intense.

Entering the back room, I go straight to my locker and lean against it.

It’s been a few hours, and I’m ready to go home. Reaching into my bra and clasping it, I pull out my tips and count the bills.

Fuck.

Only that one-hundred-dollar tip tonight.

Usually, by this time, I’d have an easy five hundred.

Louise owes me fucking big time.

“You can have my tips.” I gaze up to see her stride in. She holds out her money, and I shake my head.

Louise only has this one job.

And she needs the money.

“It’s fine. I’m fine. Keep your tips. But that’s the last time I do you a favor with tables,” I warn her.

She nods and bites her lip. “I’m sorry, okay?”

“It’s just money. I’ll make more later.”

“I still feel bad.”

I put my hundred dollars into my locker and wave her off. “Come on. Table one is getting gropey. Hopefully, I can get another hundred dollars from him.” I wink and march back out.

“Let me take it, and whatever tip he gives, I’ll give it to you.” I nod as she saunters past me and straight to my booth. I watch as Mr. Handsy grabs her ass and tips her a hundred-dollar bill before he whispers in her ear. She shakes her head, but he keeps on trying to grope her, and I can tell now she’s uncomfortable as she attempts to pull away. He doesn’t even care.

Stalking up to the table, I push my way between them and look Mr. Handsy straight in the eye. I would call him Mr. Stinky, but I’m trying to be a better person, so Handsy will have to do. Louise stands behind me as I pat his shoulder.

“What drinks you after now?” I smile at him, and one hand goes around my waist as he pulls me to him. I feel his tiny cock, which is hard, touch my belly, and I try not to be sick at the thought.

Disgusting.

“Come home with me. I’ll tip you again.”

“That’s a no, sir. Now, what I can get you is any drink you desire.” I go to pull away again, and he keeps me in his arms. Just as I’m thinking of kicking him in the balls, his hand is off me, and he cries out in pain, rocking back.

“She asked you to… remove… your… hand.” Mr. I like to dress in all black and ask you weird questions on top of being a total babe is tightly gripping my customer’s hand.

“Let him go,” I tell him.

My customer, who is clearly drunk, starts swearing, but the man pays no attention as he stares at me while holding Mr. Handsy’s arm in a vice-like grip.

“Do you want me to break his hand?”

“No. Now drop it.” My mouth hangs open in surprise, especially when he does as I ask, and the groping dude pulls his hand to his chest.

“Fuck! I was only having fun with her. What does it matter to you? She’s a whore anyway.” I watch as Mr. I like to dress in black turns his focus on my customer. He steps toward him with nothing but venom in his eyes. A smart woman would never get in the way of a man who can glare at someone like that—as if he could kill you in the blink of an eye.

Maybe he can for all I know.

I quickly put myself between them and touch his chest, tapping it with my hand. “Come on, big man, let’s get you a drink and back to your table.”

His eyes flick to me, and he steps back. “You will not come back over here again.” I huff at his words, and he locks eyes with me and leans in, growling. “Or I will kill him for touching you.”

Ah, what?

His words shock me.

To the damn core.

So much so that I stare at him, speechless, like some school girl.

“Zuko, come on, man. Let’s drink. We’re celebrating,” Grayson says.

Zuko.

It can’t be.

Can it?

But how many other people have that name?

It’s unique, right?

Zuko steps back again and goes to leave, and I follow, watching him from behind as he walks to his table, but I keep heading straight to the bar.

What are the odds that he could be the same Zuko who calls me?

Slim, right?

I mean, he could live anywhere in the world.

So what are the chances we live in the same city?

And are now in the same room?

Slim?

Shit.

Is that my Zuko?

And then I remember that voice.

And it all makes sense.

He is him.

And he doesn’t realize it’s me.

And all I can think is thank fuck for that.