Out of Time (12 page)

Elizabeth watched the interplay from across the room. Dix set down a stack of dirty cups and whispered in her ear, “Just play it cool, kid.”

“Who is that?”

“You really aren’t from around here, are ya? That’s King Kashian,” Dix said as though that explained everything.

King’s bodyguard approached a small table near the bar and said something to the young couple seated there. Their faces paled, and they quickly took their cups and fled.

King moved like a big cat, all sinew and grace, a careless prowl. He and Charlie sat at the vacated table. While King was the definition of calm, Charlie was jittery and nervous. He bobbed his head in answer to some unheard question.

Elizabeth had never seen Charlie anything but affable and at ease. She’d only known him a day, but still…. “What’s up with Charlie?”

“I don’t know, but King never comes here himself unless it’s something bad. The payment was on time. Gave it to Vic myself when he came in last week.”

“Payment?” Elizabeth asked. “You mean protection money? King’s a gangster?”

“Jeez,” Dix said anxiously, and looked around to see if anyone heard her. “Just take some orders and don’t look him in the eye, okay?” She hurried back to work as far from King as possible.

Elizabeth stood rooted to her spot. A real live gangster. It was kind of exciting. He wasn’t what she’d expected. He was young, maybe thirty and very handsome with naturally olive-colored skin and hair as black as pitch. A well-tailored suit covered his obviously athletic physique. He was attractive in a dangerous, might makes right, sort of way. There was something cold about him, though. She could feel it even across the room. Maybe it was the way his black gloved fingers moved so sinuously, like snakes. Definitely cold blooded.

His expression was an odd paradox of disinterest and keen awareness. As if on cue, he looked away from Charlie and caught her staring. His eyes were piercing even from a distance. He seemed to be seeing right through her. She wanted to disappear into the crowd, but couldn’t look away, and his lips curled into a thin smile.

King said something and Charlie shifted nervously in his seat and shook his head. King turned his gaze onto Charlie, and a moment later Charlie stood and called out, “Lizzy, come here for a sec.”

Now she’d done it. She took a deep breath and approached the table.

Charlie looked like he was about to have kittens. “King,” he said, and shot Elizabeth a quick apologetic glance. “This is Mrs. Cross.”

Elizabeth would have giggled if Charlie hadn’t looked so pale. Mrs. Cross.

King nodded slightly and leaned back in his chair. His eyes, the color of dark, bitter chocolate, traveled the length of her body. The corners of his mouth turned up in a small smile, and reached into his coat pocket and took out a silver cigarette case.

Something about him kicked in Elizabeth’s fight or flight instinct, and she felt the overwhelming urge to sprint for the door and not stop running until she hit New Jersey. Somehow, she held her ground.

His gaze inched up her body in a salacious caress. It was all she could do not to shiver. There was something terribly unnerving about the man. The way he moved, so fluidly. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but it wasn’t just that he was a gangster, and a powerful one, it was something else. Something unnatural. Something
wrong
.

She pushed the thought away, chalking it up to nerves, and forced a pleasant smile to her face.

King tapped the end of his cigarette on the table and then lifted it to his mouth. His bodyguard appeared at his side and flipped open a silver lighter, extending the flame. He leaned forward and steadied the light.

She felt her stomach drop with sickening realization. She’d seen that before. The night in the alley. The man wearing gloves. King was the man in the car.

EXHALING A BILLOWING CLOUD of smoke, King leaned back in his chair. Elizabeth wracked her brain for something to say. Nice to meet you. Have anyone offed lately? Finally, she blurted out nervously, “Those things’ll kill ya.”

King’s lips curled in a Cheshire smile as if enjoying a private joke. “I wouldn’t worry about that.”

The smile was even more disturbing, and she self-consciously pulled on her fingers. “Can I get you something to drink?”

Charlie, who’d been standing to the side, shifted nervously, but Elizabeth couldn’t tear her eyes away from King. Instinct told her never to turn her back on this man. The surge of something unmistakably feral that flickered across his eyes told her she was right.

“Perhaps another time,” he said.

His voice was mesmerizing—smooth with a touch of melancholy, like a French horn. How very Peter and the Wolf, she thought. She wanted to walk away, to get as far away from this man as possible, but his eyes held her captive. It was more than that though. There was something odd about them that she couldn’t quite place. Like looking into a reflection of a flame, a mirror image of something once removed, something that existed in the periphery, lying in wait.

She knew he wanted her to submit, to show her deference somehow. Clearly, he was the predator, and she was the prey. As idiotic as it probably was, as dangerous as she knew it to be, she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. Men, modern or not, who expected blind obedience weren’t going to find it in her. She stood her ground with as much calm as she could muster. Turnabout being fair play, she stared back at him, meeting his challenge with one of her own.

A ghost of a smile crossed his face—surprised and pleased. He took another drag from his cigarette and flicked the ash onto the floor. “You’re an intriguing one, aren’t you?”

“Not really,” she said. “I’m really more intrigue adjacent.”

“Somehow I doubt that,” he said, amused, and then turned to Charlie. “I like this one.”

Charlie cleared his throat and frowned. “She’s a hard worker. Maybe you should get back to it, Lizzy?” He looked to King for permission. “Lotsa thirsty people.”

King nodded and narrowed his eyes once more at Elizabeth. “Yes, of course. Charles and I have some business to attend to. We’ll talk again soon, I’m sure.”

There was an implicit promise in the way he spoke. Or was it a threat? She nodded once in his direction and carried her tray over to Dix.

“You okay, kid?”

“Yeah. Fine,” Elizabeth said and cast a glance back over to the table. “I think his bark’s worse than his bite.”

Dix started and dropped her tray. “Damn it,” she muttered.

Elizabeth knelt down to help her pick up the broken cups and noticed that Dix’s hands were trembling. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah, sure,” Dix said. She was clearly anything but all right. She grasped Elizabeth’s wrist and looked at her with uncharacteristic seriousness.

“About King…” She shook her head, her forehead furrowed with worry. “Just stay away from him. He’s…bad news, okay?”

What was she holding back? Elizabeth wondered. It was clear she’d wanted to say more, but was afraid to for some reason. For someone who’d been around the block and back again, Dix was awfully jumpy about King.

“Don’t worry,” Elizabeth assured her. “I’m not looking for any trouble. Believe me.”

Dix nodded nervously and moved to dump the broken dishes in the trash. Elizabeth stood and took up her tray again. A pair of men at a nearby table called her over, and she went to take their orders. Grateful to be back at work, she tried to let the tension from her meeting with King fade away. But no matter where she went in the small room, she could feel his eyes on her.

A few minutes later King’s henchman whispered something in his ear. He stood and said something to Charlie, who nodded vigorously. Finally, King left. The strangling energy that came with him began to lift, and the bar came to life again.

Charlie hurried back behind the bar, mumbling to himself. “Damn Sully. Goin’ and gettin’ his fingers all busted. Now what am I supposed to do?”

“Anything I can do?” Elizabeth asked.

“Not unless you play piano.”

“Sorry. All thumbs,” she said. Once again, her curiosity got the better of her. “What happened to Sully?”

Charlie’s ruddy face crumpled as he sighed. “King said he had an accident. Broke his fingers. All of ’em.”

Elizabeth’s stomach dropped as she realized what he meant. She remembered the man’s cries from the alley, the way he held his trembling hands.

“I think I saw King and Sully the other night,” she said, thinking out loud.

Charlie’s frown deepened. “No, ya didn’t.”

“Yeah, in an alley. I was—”

Charlie reached out with his big, meaty hand and clasped her wrist. “You didn’t see nothin’, ya hear me?” he whispered urgently. “You didn’t see nothin’.”

The knuckles of his hand were gnarled and swollen. Silently, they spoke louder of pain than any words could, and she shivered.

“Okay, Charlie.”

His face softened and he patted her hand gently. “You stick to your own business. For my sake, all right? Stay away from King. Far away.”

“Sure, Charlie.”

He sighed again and picked up his dishrag. “Where the hell am I gonna find another piano player? Sully wasn’t much, but he was cheap. They don’t fall outta trees ya know.” He rubbed down the bar and a small smile lit his face. “Course, you did, didn’t ya, Lizzy? Fell right outta the sky.”

Elizabeth smiled to herself. “Something like that.”

Charlie winked and went back to work.

By the time Charlie gave last call, it was almost three in the morning. He ushered out the last straggler, and she and Dix set about closing up for the night. It was a little past three-thirty by the time Elizabeth finished her chores, changed and said her goodnights.

She stepped out of the smoky club and took a deep breath of the fresh night air. She was about to start down the street when she saw Simon. He was leaning against a lamppost, his shirt sleeves rolled up, jacket hanging loosely over one forearm. Waiting, and looking damn sexy doing it.

Elizabeth fought a smile and took a step toward him. “What are you doing here?”

Simon pushed himself upright and took a step toward her. “Waiting for you.”

In the dim light, she couldn’t quite make out his expression, but his voice sent shivers up her spine. The good kind. She’d been anxious to tell him about King, but all thoughts of the gangster fled as Simon approached. Memories of how she’d felt when he came to apologize resurfaced: the racing of her pulse, the temptation to kiss him. The balmy night air seemed to grow that much warmer against her cheeks.

“You’re flushed,” Simon said, as he drew nearer. “Are you all right?”

“Fine. I just…You waited for me?”

He shifted his jacket unnecessarily from one arm to the next. “I don’t like the idea of you out alone at this time of night.”

A little part of her thought that maybe, just maybe, after what almost happened tonight, that there was a little more to it.

He’d had far too long to think about things, to think about her. Simon had tried to concentrate on creative ways to research time travel. The library, not surprisingly, was of little help. In his desperation, he’d even gone so far as considering tracking down H.G. Wells, who according to a recently published article was living somewhere in France. Perhaps his science fiction was as much thinly veiled truth as his grandfather’s work had been. But keeping the timeline intact forbade even that preposterous wild goose chase. Hours of work later, and with nothing to show for it, his mind drifted back to Elizabeth and the way she’d looked in the club, the way she’d looked at him. The way she was looking at him right now.

He cleared his throat and attempted to clear his mind. “A respectable woman in this time would not be walking by herself. I’m only being practical.”

“Of course.” The blush on her cheeks faded, and her eyes seemed dark and troubled.

“You sure you’re all right?” he asked.

“Just a long night.”

“Understandable,” he said, his hand hovering behind her back, resisting the urge to touch her, if even only for a moment.

The streets were deserted. It was the only time New York was still. A pause between the end and the beginning. The sounds of their footfalls echoed against the brick walls.

“The rest of your shift went well?” Simon asked.

When he wasn’t uselessly lost in the stacks, he found himself wondering what she was doing and trying to forget how she looked doing it. He was loath to admit it, but even in such a short separation, he missed her. It wasn’t a comforting thought. Surely, it was unnatural to think about someone so much. But no matter how hard he tried, his thoughts always came back to her.

“Work was okay,” she said. “Charlie gave me an advance so we’re okay, in the money department at least.”

“Thoughtful of him,” he said, unable to keep the slight sneer from his voice.

“I thought so. I seem to remember asking another boss for an advance once. He wasn’t quite so generous.”

Simon barked out a quick laugh. “If I remember correctly you needed the money to buy a pair of Italian shoes.”

“They were on sale for a limited time,” she said. “Charlie’s a good man. He worries almost as much as you do.”

“I don’t—” Simon started in protest. “What does Charlie have to worry about?”

“Gangsters, piano players; it’s a regular Scorsese film fest.”

“A what?”

“Scorsese. Do you even go to the movies?”

Simon ignored her jibe and took hold of her elbow. “Gangsters. You’re sure?”

“Well, one anyway.” Elizabeth went on to tell him about her encounter with King, her realization about the attack in the alley and Charlie’s warning. Simon asked her detailed questions about each conversation. When she finished, he fell into a thoughtful silence.

Barely three days into their journey and already she’d caught the eye of the most dangerous man in town. If his reservations about her taking this job hadn’t been justified before, they surely were now. Tomorrow, he’d find employment, no matter what it was. Perhaps, he’d found the lead he needed tonight.

“All in all,” she said, “an interesting night. And can I just say my dogs are barking. If I’m going to make it through tomorrow night, I have got to get some better shoes. Wonder if I can find something Italian.”