Barely Breathing(19)

“But—”

“Viv.” His brows sank down in an ominous glare. “I had to jump through hoops to get this reservation. We’re goin’ to Calypso and we’re gonna eat the f*ck out of all that fancy food.”

“Okay. Thank you. I don’t know how you pulled it off. One of the partners at my firm has been trying to get in there for a couple months now and it’s always booked solid.”

He shrugged.

“What were the hoops?” I asked, curiosity getting the better of me.

“Well . . . you know we’ll cater to just about any desire in our Sky Suites at the club.”

I turned to face him. “Sky Suites? Like the room we had dinner in?”

“Yeah. All the upstairs rooms are called Sky Suites. Some are smaller, some are huge. We rent them by the hour but most people want them for a whole night.”

A few seconds passed and I arched my brows expectantly. “And?”

“And the owner of Calypso now has a suite for next weekend.”

“For . . . ?”

Kane smiled cryptically. “I never ask clients that. The less I know, the better.”

“Something tells me you know your fair share.”

“Can’t help it sometimes. Makes me feel really f*ckin’ boring to find out what some people are into.”

I laughed and gave his shoulder a playful shove. “Now you’re just teasing me. How crazy are we talking?”

He shrugged again. “I only have three rules: No one underage comes in, no non-consensual sex and animals can’t give consent.”

“No!” I covered my wide-open mouth with my hand. “Someone tried to bring animals in?”

“They didn’t just try, they did it. One of my guys found a goat asleep in one of the suites when he went to clean it.”

“What the hell?”

He nodded. “Dead serious. It was dressed in lingerie.”

“Oh my God. That’s not okay.”

Our eyes met and we both burst out laughing. He took my hand again, sweeping his thumb across my knuckles. It didn’t feel necessary to fill the silence. There was something heavy in the air between us, but it wasn’t awkwardness. It was anticipation.

Len pulled up near the entrance to Calypso, which had an understated, modern gray exterior. Kane opened my door and waved to Len, who was grinning as he pulled back into traffic.

“He seems like a very happy guy,” I said.

Kane wrapped an arm around my shoulders and gave a low chuckle. “Annoyingly so at times.”

We were nearing the tall wood doors of the restaurant when a sound caught my attention. It was a deep cough that sounded painfully unproductive.

I looked over both shoulders, turning away from Kane. Squinting in the near-darkness, I made out a figure hunched over in a wheelchair about a hundred feet away.

“Hang on,” I said to Kane, walking toward the source of the cough.

I heard him moving behind me. The heels of my boots clicking on the sidewalk made the man in the wheelchair look up as we approached. He wore a ragged stocking cap and was wrapped in a dark blanket. When I looked into his face, I was taken aback by his pale blue eyes. Their vibrant shade seemed out of place on this man with gray whiskers and dark circles beneath his eyes.

“Are you okay?” I asked, bending down so he could see me without straining to look up.

“I’m fine,” he said, waving a hand and breaking into another fit of coughing. His voice was raspy and his cough sounded anything but fine. The cold air caused a cloud of breath to form in front of his face as he coughed.

“Are you cold?” I reached for his blanket so I could tuck it more tightly around him.

He shook his head weakly and tried to shrug the blanket off. “Hot.”

“Are you waiting for someone?”

“I ain’t got nobody. Just sittin’ here ‘cause the cold air helps my lungs.”

He managed to shake the blanket off and I saw that he had no legs. His form-fitted thermal shirt allowed me to see that he was very thin, other than arms that looked developed from wheeling himself around in the chair.

“Do you live nearby?” I asked him.

He chuckled softly. “You could say that. I live wherever I fall asleep at the end of the day.”

I sighed inwardly, thinking about all the people who had probably passed this very sick man and not even looked his way. Not realizing how fortunate they were as they walked past him that at least they could walk.

“You need to see a doctor,” I said gently. “That cough is really bad.”

“Hell with that.” He waved me off. “I don’t want no handouts. I’d take a cough drop if you’ve got one, though.”

Kane touched my shoulder. “Hey. I’ll give him some money.”

I turned and looked up at him. “He needs a doctor, though.”

“We can’t help with that.”

“Sure we can.”

He reached into his pocket. “Want me to call an ambulance?”

“No,” the man said, erupting into another bout of coughing that it hurt me to listen to. He leaned over the edge of the chair, away from us, and spit a mouthful of blood onto the sidewalk.

“What’s your name?” I asked him.

“Alan.”