starts.”
“Ah, sweetheart,” he murmured so low she could barely hear it. “How did you end up here?”
Sera didn’t know what to make of his confusing question, so she picked up her tray and started back toward the bar, but his voice brought her up short.
“If I can make you smile, I get that kiss.” He rose and gently pried the tray from her hands. “That’s the deal.
Harmless enough for you?”
“Nothing about you is harmless.” The statement slipped out on a whisper.
“Aren’t there other girls you could be kissing?”
“Sure there are.” Without looking, he tossed her tray on the table. “But none of them bless themselves after saying ‘hell’
or make me crazy to see them smile.”
“You appear to be crazy regardless.”
His lips twitched. “How about it, then? If I’m so crazy, there’s no harm in the deal. No smile, no kiss.”
A slight hesitation was her mistake.
Before she could protest, he grabbed her hand and tugged her toward the back of the bar. “Wait. Wait. I have customers.”
“They’ll live.” His calloused fingers twined with hers as he led her down the back hallway, past the bathrooms, and into the kitchen. The short-order cook and his assistant glanced up, looking completely unconcerned to see her being dragged through the kitchen by the insane customer. She opened her mouth to ask for their assistance when her kidnapper greeted them both by name. Fabulous.
“Where are you taking me?” Sera might know how to defend herself, but it wouldn’t be wise to go somewhere alone with this man she knew nothing about. She threw a desperate look at the cook. “Stop him!”
Laughter sounded behind her as she was pulled into the alleyway behind the club, the kitchen door slamming shut behind them. Never having been back there before, she took a moment to take in her surroundings. A loud extractor fan above the door hummed, and street sounds greeted her ears in the distance.
It had rained earlier, leaving damp asphalt in its wake and water dripping from the drainpipes of the apartment building across the alley. A cool breeze whipped down the passage and Sera wrapped her arms around herself to protect her exposed skin.
Her kidnapper still held her hand tightly, but had stooped down to scoop up a pebble off the ground. As she watched in stunned silence, he lobbed the pebble up at the closest window of the building on the other side of the alley.
“What are you doing?”
He held up a finger, smiling when a light illuminated the window. “Wait for it,” he drew out.
When the window flew open on a barked curse, his hand squeezed hers, pulling her closer to his side. Sera stumbled into the crook of his arm, the smell of whiskey and smoke wrapping itself around her like fog. Above them, a white-haired woman in a housecoat appeared at the window, squinting into the darkness and looking less than thrilled by the disturbance.
“Mrs. Petricelli, you’re looking extra beautiful this evening,” her kidnapper shouted. “Sing for us, would ya?”
“You, huh?” She propped a fist on her hip. “This ain’t a free show.”
He slapped his free hand to his chest.
“My
undying
love
isn’t
enough
payment?”
Sera blinked in surprise when the woman began to primp, patting the back of her hair. Her former irritation over the kidnapping turned to intrigue. She couldn’t stop herself from looking up at him, wondering how this playful man had put the fear of God into three men twice his age only moments ago. When she’d gotten her first look at him at the bar, she’d judged him to be older, thanks to the weariness in his eyes. Now, with a roguish grin playing around his mouth, a twinkle replacing the fatigue in his eyes,
she
changed
her
earlier
assumption. He couldn’t be older than thirty.
Her assessment was interrupted when the most beautiful sound she’d ever heard floated through the alley and arrested her on the spot. Mrs. Petricelli leaned partially out the window, singing an opera song that Sera recognized as Puccini. She wasn’t shy with it, either.
With wobbly arms outstretched toward the night sky, her voice rose and fell in such haunting perfection that Sera temporarily stopped breathing. One by one, windows in the building began to slide open, neighbors popping out to listen, joy written on their faces. Having lived in the area for even a short while, she knew that quiet respect was rare among the residents, making their utter silence almost as poignant as Mrs.
Petricelli’s song.
She didn’t want the moment to end.
Never in her life had she experienced something
so
spontaneous
and
wonderful. In all the hours she’d spent in church, listening to choirs sing, nothing she’d ever heard could compare to this.
How ironic that it was taking place in a Brooklyn alley that smelled like stale garbage, with a man who had managed to infuriate and attract her within minutes of their acquaintance.