Total pages in book: 19
Estimated words: 17527 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 88(@200wpm)___ 70(@250wpm)___ 58(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 17527 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 88(@200wpm)___ 70(@250wpm)___ 58(@300wpm)
“It’s got a certain level of charm. An ambience that can’t be beat…” She pauses, casting her eyes to the ceiling to think of another empty compliment, shaking her head when nothing springs to mind. “Nah, that’s all I’ve got. As long as they’ve got good music and better booze, who am I to judge?”
“Speaking of, your cup runs dry.” I take a step away from the table. “I’ll be right back, gonna grab drinks.”
“Hurry back.” She pouts, and I lean in to give her a kiss on the cheek.
“Two minutes and I’m yours for the night.”
I head to the bar, order two beers, and crack ‘em open at the counter. I grab my wallet, drop a twenty on the counter, getting stuck among the rabble while the barman collects my change.
If it weren’t for Tara being a few feet away, this wouldn’t rub me the wrong way so badly. I’m used to standing around, a stoic statue in the corner of a room, watching for signs of danger. Now’s no different, casting my gaze over the Coyote’s patrons, getting a feel for my surroundings.
But sometimes you don’t have to look for trouble. It comes knocking all by itself.
Three men approach, but none seem interested in passing to call on a server. Their eyes are trained on mine, burning with focused intent. One in the back cracks his knuckles, and it makes me drawl out a long, annoyed sigh.
“I know you.” The one in front waggles a finger at my chest. He’s short, lean, and wears a twisted grin on his stubbled face.
“Doubt it.” I cross my arms, eyeing the first, second, and third to gauge how badly this could end. Making a mental note of them, I go with Stubble, Curly, and Bald as their defining characteristics.
“I never forget a face.” Stubble scratches the top of his head. “You’re that prick who rammed into me at Lavish.”
“Settle down, gents. You don’t want to open this can of worms.” I choose to take the diplomatic approach. Having to clean their teeth off the floor is a surefire way to ruin my time with Tara.
“Well, well, we’ve got ourselves a big man here.” He squares his shoulders and puffs out his chest, the sign of a man eager to cause a scene.
I stand upright, towering over the first, keeping the other two behind him in my periphery. Any of them make a sudden move, their ringleader’s gonna learn firsthand what it means to dance with the devil.
My silence prompts him to speak again.
“How about you apologize and we can get on with our night?” he insists.
A wiser man might’ve accepted the offer. Said sorry for something he didn’t do, move on, and be done with it. Good thing no one’s ever accused me of being wise.
“No.” This is still Knight Rider territory, even if the bar isn’t one we frequent. But three fools swinging their dicks around in some show of masculinity must mean they aren’t aware of who runs the place.
New in town. Factory workers, perhaps. Nobodies trying to assert dominance where they have none.
“No?” His eyes narrow to thin slits, nostrils flaring.
“Here’s your change.” The barman’s voice hits the back of my head.
“Keep it.” I’d rather give away the eight bucks than turn my back on these three. Not in the mood to take a cheap shot to the back of the skull. The bartender gives thanks and shuffles off. “As for you three, go back to your table. Drink your drinks. Enjoy your night. Forget you saw my face, and I’ll forget about your barking. Are we clear?”
Stubbles’ face softens, and he erupts in a raucous belly laughter. The two behind him join in. “You’re a funny man. Real funny. But just remember, I never forget a face. And forgiving ain’t in my nature.”
They leave, and so do I, back to my table where Tara waits. Her beauty and smile going a long way in soothing my ill temper.
6
TARA
Questions answered with monosyllable responses. Hush is closed off, sitting with crossed arms and a thousand-yard stare. But worst of all, silence fills the void unless I’m talking.
I should be used to it with him. He’s not much of a talker at the best of times, but with how well things started when we got here, I hate seeing him lost inside his own head.
Well, Detective Tara’s on the case, and I’m going to get to the bottom of this and pull him out of his bad mood.
“What’s got you so down in the dumps?” Straightforward and to the point is how I operate. Dancing around tension leads to much worse outcomes.
“Nothi—"
“The guys at the bar?” An intrigued brow raises as I cut him off without thinking. Of course, it was them. Hush looked fine until they spoke to him.
He answers with a half nod, groaning.