Devils last dance, p.1
Devil's Last Dance, page 1
Published by EVERNIGHT PUBLISHING ® at Smashwords
www.evernightpublishing.com
Copyright© 2024 Sam Crescent
ISBN: 978-0-3695-0957-4
Cover Artist: Jay Aheer
Editor: Lisa Petrocelli
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
DEVIL’S LAST DANCE
Sam Crescent
Copyright © 2024
Chapter One
Antwone, The Boss, sat at the bar sipping his cheap whiskey while listening to his cell phone ring constantly. He didn’t even need to check who the caller was to know it was his brother, Draven.
His brother was married, had two children, and Antwone was happy for them. After all, he’d been the one to help manipulate things and set it up so Draven got the woman he wanted. It was the least he could do. His brother had saved his life, kept him safe, and then put him on the throne, making him The Boss.
Men looked toward him to rule, to control, to do everything that needed to be done. But because of their past, secrets had to be kept. No one could know they were the brothers who were supposedly killed by their enraged father.
Running a hand down his face, he cut those memories off, because they weren’t important. He and Draven had fixed those problems years ago, and anyone who dared to blackmail them was taken care of. It was a lot of hard work, and Antwone was more than prepared for it.
But there were a few occasions when he just wanted to have a nice drink without the troubles that kept knocking at his door. Nor the pain that came with knowing he was alone.
Being at the top had a great deal of perks. He liked having people afraid of him, and for good reason. There was a time his father called him “weak” and a “pussy.” Not being able to kill animals made him pathetic in his father’s eyes. Antwone still refused to kill animals, but when it came to people, he was more than happy to hurt, hunt, torture, and get what he wanted.
There was a monster inside him—a beast. Many called Draven the devil, but they both knew who the real monster was.
Antwone looked at the small amount of amber liquid in the bottom of the glass and finished it off in one gulp. It tasted vile, and was nothing like the good stuff he loved.
There was a time he didn’t drink. There was a time he didn’t do a lot of things, but knocking at death’s door after a beating from your father changes you.
Over the years, Draven had told him he’d changed. Antwone tried to laugh it off as nonsense, but he knew it was bullshit. He had changed. Years ago, a woman’s pleas would result in him being lenient, showing mercy, but now he saw the deceit and betrayal. It was what made Maria, Draven’s wife, so very different. She had known her family was going to betray him, but she’d come to him.
Maria was the last woman he’d shown mercy. That was five years ago.
“Are you all right, honey?” a soft, beautiful voice asked.
Antwone looked up to see a blonde, blue-eyed beauty standing in front of him. There was no makeup on her face, and her long hair had been pulled back into a ponytail. If he didn’t know better, he’d believe her gaze held concern for him.
“More than fine. Just a refill,” he said, shoving his glass toward her.
She grabbed his glass, the whiskey, and refilled, placing it back in front of him. He knew she kept an eye on him.
Antwone decided to look her in the eye. He had come to learn that staring back at people made them nervous, and they often looked away. This woman, with Candice on her name tag, didn’t look away. He didn’t know if she was brazen or just plain stupid.
“Tell me, Candice, what are you doing in this bar?” he asked.
Her brows went up just a notch, and then she pursed her lips. “I work here. That’s what I’m doing.”
“A beauty like you working here? Please, you could have your choice of a life.” He was pretty sure there would be many men lining up, willing to give her whatever her little heart desired. All she needed to do was click her fingers and they’d be putty in her hands.
Instead of being charmed, she rolled her eyes. Not the response he was hoping for.
“Does that line work on everyone?” she asked.
He tutted. “Most women don’t need much else.”
“Nice. Insulting my sex while you’re at it. That’s pretty good…” She sighed. “What’s your name?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” he asked, winking.
This was … refreshing. It had been a long time since he had talked to a woman who didn’t know who he was. If she did, there was no way she’d even be talking to him with disrespect. He liked her attitude. It was nice.
She wiped down the bar, and he couldn’t help but watch her ass when there was another customer who needed to be served. He didn’t take a single drink as he was more entertained by the woman in front of him. She got the guy his drink, took the payment, and handed him the change.
Again, she cleaned the bar and then made her way back toward him.
“I haven’t seen you here before,” she said. “Are you lost?”
“Not lost. Just a guy wanting a drink.”
“Yeah, you look like a guy who’s drowning his sorrows. Lost at the tables? Put a bet down that didn’t go your way?” she asked.
Antwone couldn’t help but laugh. “Don’t gamble.”
“Really?”
“You’re surprised?”
“Look around you, sweetheart. There are a lot of men here who are drowning their sorrows because they lost at the races.” Candice folded her arms across her chest, and then pursed her lips. “Broken heart?”
“No.”
“Wife giving you trouble?”
He lifted his drink. “I don’t have a wife.”
“Really?”
Antwone couldn’t help but chuckle again. “Another surprise, I see.”
“I figured you’d be married.” She shrugged. “You look like the kind of guy who has it all figured out.”
“Thanks for the compliment. So, is there a husband waiting for you, Candice?” he asked.
She rolled her eyes. “Nah, no special someone for me, thank you.”
This did surprise him. “Are you lying to me?”
“You may be a stranger to me, but no, I’m not lying. I’m single. Trust me. It’s a good thing.”
“Ah, have you sworn off all men?”
She rolled her eyes. “It’s not like that. Let’s just say I’ve had a bad experience and leave it at that.”
He didn’t want to leave it. He wanted more information and as he stared at her, Antwone found himself curious about this woman. In all his life, he couldn’t recall a woman, not even his brother’s wife, talking to him so freely. Most of the women in his world were vying for his attention, wanting the status of marrying The Boss.
“So, if you’re not married—and you’re clearly doing well in the world by the looks of the suit—why are you here, late on a Friday night, drinking alone?”
His cell phone buzzed.
“Ignoring your calls?” she asked.
“It’s complicated.”
“Most things in life are,” she said, sighing. “You’re totally right, though. I get it. It’s nice to just get away from all the shit, isn’t it?”
Antwone smiled. “Yeah, it is.”
He watched as she grabbed the whiskey bottle, stepped toward him, and poured him another glass.
“On the house,” she said.
He didn’t get a chance to thank her as she was already moving away to deal with other customers.
His cell phone died, but then was immediately aglow again with Draven’s number lighting up the screen. It would be so easy to ignore it, but if he continued to do that, blood would be shed as Draven tried to find him, expecting the worst. Clicking the green phone icon, he placed the call to his ear and waited.
“Antwone, speak, or so help me, I will make you suffer.”
“What could you possibly need from me right now?” Antwone asked.
“You’re alone.”
He had evaded his guards for a reason. “Get to the point.”
“Damn it, Antwone, you know the threats. Our enemies—”
“Are always out there, and I know how to deal with them. Trust me, Draven. I can take care of myself.”
His brother had been taking care of him for long enough now. It was time for him to stop.
He knew how to handle himself. He’d shed enough of his enemies’ blood to know how to take care of everything. There was no mercy in him. No one would ever be safe with him around.
Antwone watched as Candice smiled. She was a beautiful woman and her smile was so sweet, but he also saw no other man paid her too much attention. They wanted their drinks and to drown their sorrows.
He had no idea what made him walk into this bar. He didn’t even know the name of the place, just that he needed a drink, some privacy, and this place had lit up like a beacon for him.
****
Candice Swift hated the dark. It was the one downside to working at night—only the streetlights to offer any kind of protection. Stepping out onto the street, she wrap ped herself up in her jacket. It was only late September, but it was already cold. They were going through one of those strange, early fall/winter things. One day it was freezing cold, the next toasty warm. She pulled out her mittens and slid them on her hands.
“Cold?”
The sudden question directed close to her ear had her screaming. She quickly spun around, hands clenched into fists, not that anyone would see them, as they were already covered by her mittens. She was surprised to see the guy from the bar—the one without a wife or girlfriend who hadn’t lost at some gambling venture.
“Hello, Candice,” he said.
Keeping her fists raised, she frowned at him. “You do realize this is totally creepy, right?”
He frowned. “How?”
“You waited until closing, and you startled me. I’m getting a little bit of a creeper vibe right now.”
“Ah, I see. I wanted to thank you.”
She still didn’t lower her fists, but she couldn’t help but be intrigued. “You want to thank me?”
“Yes.”
“What for?”
“For helping me, and I also wished to offer you a ride home, or we can walk.”
“I’m not getting into a car with you,” she said.
“Ah, okay.”
It was strange, because this man was indeed a stranger, and yet she wasn’t afraid. She didn’t have an overwhelming feeling to make a run for it.
“You can walk with me, but … I need to know your name first. You know mine.”
“So, Candice is your real name?”
“Yes,” she said.
“Antwone.” He held his hand out.
She looked at it for several seconds, then held her hand out toward him and shook it. “Nice to meet you, Antwone.”
“This has to be the strangest meeting I’ve ever had,” he said.
“Well, consider it a memorable one.” She pulled her hand back and shoved it into her pocket. “You don’t have to walk me home. I live about half an hour from here. Not too far.”
“I have my car.”
“Still not getting into it, and I should warn you, I have Mace as well.” She had no idea why she told him that. He could be an attacker, and now she had just warned him.
Again, it was so strange, but she didn’t feel he was dangerous, which was so weird.
“Then, how about we start walking?”
She looked at him in his suit and noticed he wasn’t wearing a jacket to ward off the cold.
“Are you not cold?”
“Nope.”
Candice found that hard to believe, but she wasn’t going to argue with him. If he didn’t want to wear a jacket to keep himself warm, that was on him.
“We’re going this direction,” she said, pointing in front of her.
“Lead the way.”
And so she did, for several steps, and she couldn’t help but steal glances in his direction.
He kept a small distance between them, but he kept pace with her. She was used to walking fast, and she kept moving, not wanting to slow down. He didn’t comment, didn’t complain. Just stayed by her side.
She took a deep breath, expelled it, and then couldn’t help but glance his way again.
“Do you live around here?” she asked.
“Yes.”
He didn’t say anything more and after a brief pause, she nodded.
“The weather is confusing, huh?”
Antwone chuckled. “The weather?”
“You’re not exactly making my life easier. You’re a stranger, and I’m trying to … you know … be friendly and do the right thing, be nice and make conversation.”
“Conversation?”
“Is this a strange concept for you?” she asked.
“Indeed.”
She chuckled. She just couldn’t help it. “You’re a confusing guy, Antwone.”
“Thank you.”
Again, she laughed. Yes, it was weird to have a stranger walking her home, but it was also kind of nice. She felt safe. There weren’t many people on the streets late at night. There were a couple of people, some of them drunk, others just working, or doing whatever they did.
“What do you do?”
“What do you mean?” he asked.
This had to be the strangest conversation she ever had. “You know, for a job. What is your career?”
“Why do you want to know?”
Candice smiled. “Well, you already know what I do. I work in a bar. I’m making polite conversation. You know, rather than the silence. It helps to keep things … light.”
“By knowing what I do for a living?” he asked.
“You know, the whole getting to know one another, talking, that kind of thing. It’s what people do.” She glanced over at him as he stopped walking.
“I’m in business,” he said after a second’s pause.
“You’re in business.”
“Yes.”
“Okay, what kind of business?”
“Multiple. I’m a businessman. I own casinos, restaurants, and I also invest.”
“Ah, okay. Sounds like a hectic kind of life, and I bet it’s not easy.”
Antwone stared at her for several seconds.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Did you always want to work in a bar?”
“Nah, I imagined owning my own business. I was going to be a multimillion-dollar pancake maker, or something like that.” She laughed, recalling her own childhood innocence. “Trust me, my pancakes are the bomb, but not everyone is into pancakes. Some people love waffles, but I do great waffles as well.” She shrugged.
The truth was, she didn’t do well at school. She understood everything, but she didn’t test well, so there was no college education for her. After her parents passed away, she sold the house, moved to the city, and everything else was history.
At thirty years old, she’d seen a lot of the world, learned a lot about people, how hard and cruel some could be.
It had taken time, but she liked her job, and then she got to do what she wanted during the day. She made enough money to pay the bills, with a bit to spend on luxuries, and she didn’t have much care in the world. Her parents had left her enough money, which she had saved.
She never lived outside of her means. Her parents had always taught her the value of only spending what she could afford. There were no spending sprees in her future.
“You love to cook?” he asked.
“Yeah, I do. Everything tastes so much better homemade. I remember my mom used to spend hours in the kitchen, every Sunday morning. She’d bake bread, cookies, muffins, bars, and treats for the week ahead. One Friday every month, we’d go on a ginormous food shopping spree, and we’d spend that Saturday preparing it all. She’d marinate meat to stick in the freezer for the whole month, which was awesome. We’d make burgers, different kinds of meatballs, sometimes we’d even make the meals as well.” She sighed, recalling the fond memories.
“Sounds like fun,” he said.
“It was a lot of fun. There were times when if we had too much food, we’d cook what we had and then take it around to neighbors. My family loved the whole community spirit.” She sighed.
It was moments like this, when she thought about what her parents did, that she wished she hadn’t left the small town where she’d grown up.
But, that was the problem—the memories. She had tried living and getting by, but it had been too painful. Everyone was so nice, but she found herself constantly in tears, feeling so alone and missing them.
Coming to the city had been like a breath of fresh air, which was kind of odd, considering some of the congestion and the constant fumes. She’d been able to finally heal, but the grief was always there.
She had her mother’s cookbooks, all her notebooks, not just on food, but everything she did. Her mother was an amazing knitter, and Candice had learned from her. She had the patterns her mother had kept over the years, including some of her own designs as well. They were the memories she wanted to keep and savor.
“What about you? Any memories you care to share about your parents?” she asked.
“No.”
