Then, she spoke. “You’re looking for Link, aren’t you?”
I didn’t hesitate. “A lot of women come and park to wait for this place to open or something?”
She giggled. “Not at all. But he told me to keep an eye out for a red Subaru. I’m assuming that’s you.”
“He told you to keep an eye out for my car? Why?”
“Don’t know. Said he was expecting you at some point in time.”
Cheeky little shit. “Well, yes. I’m here for Link.”
She thumbed over her shoulder. “Come on in. He’s in the back office. I can show you where that is.”
I followed the woman inside, and she pointed me toward a back hallway. After instructing me on where to go, I followed her directions to the letter.
Down the hallway, take a left. First door on the right.
But when I got to the office door? I heard two sets of voices inside.
“Link, this is serious. We can’t just—”
“You heard me, Sly. I’ve spoken. And you won’t—”
“No, you haven’t heard me. You haven’t heard everything I’ve got to say. And you owe me that, Link. You owe it to me to at least hear me out.”
The voices were curt. Upset. Almost angry. And I wondered if now was a bad time. I drew in a silent breath and went to shift away, hoping I could slink back down the hallway.
Until the office door ripped open.
“Who’s there?” Link asked.
“Just me, Sausage.”
He stepped out into the hallway. “Joanna?”
My eyes met his. “Hey there, stranger.”
“Who the fuck is out—”
Another man poked his head out of the door, and I thought I recognized him. But whether or not I recognized him didn’t matter. Because he sure as hell recognized me. I didn’t think eyes could get any angrier until they fell onto me. And when they ignited with furious fire, I wondered what in the hell I had just walked into.
“You,” the man growled.
Link paused. “You two know one another?”
The man pointed at me. “What the fuck is she doing here?”
I waved my hand. “Uh, hi. Joanna Slater.”
The man hissed. “I know exactly who you are, you little—”
Link whipped around on him. “You better choose your words very, very carefully, Sly.”
I blinked. “Wait. Mr. Slydell?”
He snarled. “Don’t you dare call me that, you traitorous little—”
Link raised his voice. “Enough!”
I took a step back. My back fell against the wall of the hallway as I drew in a deep breath. I knew him Mr. Slydell well. My internship back in law school was a lucky one. I worked in the District Attorney’s office pushing papers and consulting on larger cases where it was all hands on deck. And at one point in time, Mr. Slydell had been one of those ‘all hands on deck’ sort of cases.
Except, he wasn’t the one seeking out our help.
What have I walked into?
Mr. Slydell pointed at me. “She’s not welcome here. Not her kind, and certainly not her.”
Link growled. “I don’t give a shit what you think about her presence, Sly. She’s a guest of this bar, and you’ll treat her as such.”
“The fuck kind of company are you keeping nowadays? I mean, unless you intend to fuck her.”
Link fisted the man’s shirt. “One more outburst out of you and you’re the only one who’s going to be seeing the front door. Got it?”
I held my breath as I watched the altercation, wondering if I should just make a break for it.
“The fuck’s wrong with you, Link?” Mr. Slydell grumbled.
Link released his shirt. “Nothing. Find your manners and use them, or you’ll be dismissed for the night. Got it?”
This was a mistake. I needed to get out of here. I needed to get as far away from this man as possible. What in the world was he doing hanging out with someone like Mr. Slydell? I remembered his case beautifully. How he got off on charges I just knew would stick. How did he get off? How did he walk out of that damn courtroom without handcuffs?
Is this place really a bar?
In one fell swoop, everything I thought I believed was pulled out from under me. Apparently, Link wasn’t as decent of a person as I thought he was, if he kept that kind of company. Then again, he had fixed my car. And I still owed him for that. But once I paid my debt to him? Once I leveled the playing field between us?
I’d never come back to this place as long as I lived.
5
Link
Sly lowered his voice. “You don’t know who this woman is, Link. If you did--.”
I pointed my finger in his face. “Get out of my face, right now.”
He blinked. “Are you kidding me right now?”
“You’ve got no idea why the hell this woman is here. And when someone steps into this bar—”
“She’s our enemy, Link!”
I noticed Joanna flinch out of the corner of my eye and I almost lost it. I fisted Sly’s jacket again and slammed him against the wall. Someone called out my name, but the voice sounded far away. Like they were trying to yell at me from a cliff. I got right into Sly’s face, my nostrils flaring as the man ground his teeth together. Trying to bite back whatever the hell it was he still felt he had a right to say.
“You’re done here tonight. Go home,” I said.
Sly cocked his head. “And if I don’t?”
“Then, I’ll rip that coat off of you myself. Now, as your president? Get the fuck out of my bar.”
I shoved Sly’s chest and he grunted. I took a step back and drew in a deep breath, trying to calm my anger. Sly’s eyes fell to Joanna and I felt her step behind me. So, I made sure to place myself as a barrier between the two of them. I didn’t know what the hell his problem was, but he needed to go sort it out elsewhere.
Because I had been waiting on pins and needles to get back into this woman’s presence.
“Now, Sly,” I commanded.
He snickered. “You really are a piece of work.”
“I’m what?”
“Nothing.”
“That’s exactly what I thought you said. Nothing.”
Sly shot me a look before he moved away from my office. Joanna pressed against me, her small body against my back as her hands danced along my leather jacket. I kept an eye on Sly as he walked down the hallway, turned the corner, and his bootfalls fell out of my ear’s range. He’d always been a fucking hothead. But I’d never seen him go off on someone like that before.
It made me curious.
“Step into my office,” I said.
Joanna drew in a shuddering breath. “I just wanted to come by and—”
I peered over my shoulder. “Office. Now.”
She nodded quickly and scurried inside before I closed the door behind her and locked it for good measure. I didn’t want anyone barging in on us while we talked. Part of me was surprised she had come here tonight. I didn’t expect to see her for a few days. Or ever, to be honest. But the rest of me was excited to be with her again.
Because she’d been on my mind all night.
“Take a seat,” I said.
She nodded before she sat in the chair in front of my desk.
“Link, I didn't mean to cause any sort of—”
I held up my hand. “It’s okay. I promise. You’re not in the wrong here. He is.”
She sighed. “Do you really own this bar? Or is it a front for something else?”
“An odd question to ask someone.”
“Makes sense for my profession.”
I leaned against my desk. “And what is your profession?”
She licked her lips. “I don’t know if I’m comfortable saying at this point.”
I nodded. “Fair enough.”
I pushed myself off the edge of the desk and walked to my filing cabinet. I pulled out the top drawer and reached inside, pulling out two whiskey glasses. I sat do
wn at my desk and opened the bottom drawer, pulling out a bottle with amber liquid sloshing around. And after pouring each of us two fingers of the strong whiskey, I handed her a glass.
“Here. It’ll help settle you down,” I said.
She took it quickly. “Thank you.”
I swirled the liquid in my glass. “Are you all right?”
She took a sip. “Yeah. I’m good.”
She held up her glass to inspect the liquid before taking another long pull. I grinned.
“Like it?” I asked.
She growled softly. “It’s strong. But really nice. What is that I taste?”
“Bacon and honey.”
She blinked. “Wow. That’s very specific.”
“It’s also very good. It’s the best batch I’ve made.”
She paused. “Wait, you made this?”
I threw the rest of mine back. “Yep.”
“So, you really do own this bar.”
I set my glass down. “Yep.”
“And you make your own whiskey?”
I grinned. “Yep.”
“Are you going to say anything other than ‘yep?’”
“Depends on what you ask.”
She smiled. “Fair enough. So, tell me. How did you get into whiskey production?”
I leaned back in my chair. “It’s more of a hobby than anything else. When I bought this place, it had an old, broken down distillery in the back. It took some fixing up. But once I got it patched, I just tried out a few things.”
“Don’t tell me you Googled ‘how to make whiskey.’”
I shrugged. “And if I did?”
She took another long sip. “You don’t get good whiskey like this with mere Googling.”
“Well, it also helps that I’ve been making small batches of whiskey for around seven years now.”
“Wow. So, this is like… really what you do.”
“Like I said, more of a hobby. But it gives me a brand around town. People know my batches of whiskey aren’t mass-produced. So, I make a few once a batch comes out good and I get to charge out the asshole for drinks that use it.”
She grinned. “Do you ever sell them by the bottle?”
“Oh, yeah. I’ve raked in a lot of money doing that. But for this batch I’m not selling any bottles.”
“Why’s that?”
“I do that sometimes. If a batch comes out particularly good, I let the other bars use it in their drinks for an upcharge and I give the bottles out to my men.”
She paused. “Wait, other bars?”
“Yep.”
“You have other bars.”
“Yep.”
“Where?”
He shrugged. “Around.”
“Uh huh.”
I leaned forward. “I really am sorry about Sly.”
She sighed. “It’s okay. I mean, it’s not okay. He could get into some serious trouble coming at me like that. But I get why he doesn’t like me.”
“Care to indulge me with the explanation?”
She polished off her drink and set the glass on top of my desk.
“I’m a criminal prosecutor,” she said.
I leaned back in my own chair. “That explains a lot.”
“What do you mean?”
I shrugged. “Well, for starters? The getup I found you in on the side of the road. It makes sense now.”
She grinned. “Yes. Well. When I was in my last year of law school, I worked as an intern for the D.A. And one of the cases we worked had Mr. Slydell on the stand. The D.A. wanted me to be the one to question him. He figured it would be a good experience for someone like myself. So, Mr. Slydell and I’s first introduction wasn’t necessarily the best.”
I chuckled, and it caused Joanna to wrinkle her nose.
“What?” she asked.
I shook my head. “Nothing.”
“No, really. What is it?”
I swallowed my laughter. “It’s just… that name.”
“What name?”
“Mr. Slydell. He hates his last name.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s a shitty last name.”
She blinked. “I don’t think so.”
I kept chuckling. “It’s just funny to hear you call him that. That’s all. We all call him ‘Sly.’”
She clicked her tongue. “He was pretty sly on that stand; I’ll give him that.”
I snickered. “Our nicknames fit; we’ll just say that.”
“That so, Sausage?”
I smiled. “Yep.”
She rolled her eyes. “So, I came by to thank you. For my car.”
I nodded. “You’re more than welcome.”
“How long did it take you to fix that thing up?”
I shrugged. “Does it matter?”
“It matters to me.”
“Why?”
“So I know how to repay you in order to pay my debt off.”
“You don’t owe me anything.”
“Yes, I do.”
I shook my head. “You really don’t.”
She leaned forward. “In my world? You don’t leave favors open-ended like that. If someone does you a favor, you do one of equal weight back. Then, no one feels like they own the other or anything like that.”
I paused. “Where did you grow up?”
“What?”
“Where did you grow up, Joanna?”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Can’t I get to know you a little bit?”
She sighed. “I’m not here to talk about myself. I’m here to figure out specifics so I know how to pay you back.”
“What if I tell you that having a conversation with me is payback enough?”
She blinked. “Can I get that in writing?”
I chuckled. “Yep. You’re a lawyer, all right.”
“Link, all I want is—”
“Where did you grow up, Joanna? Just answer the question.”
I watched her struggle with my command for a while before she pulled her chair closer to my desk.
“Dallas,” she said.
My eyebrows raised. “A southern girl in the north. You don’t have an accent.”
“I worked hard to bury it in school.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m already considered stupid because I’m a woman. No need to put an accent that’s also considered stupid along with it.”
Huh. “So, does your accent ever come out at all?”
“What? You’ve got a thing for southern accents or something?”
I shrugged. “Or something.”
She rolled her eyes. “There you go with that cryptic stuff again.”
I chuckled. “I’m nothing, if not hard to read. It’s why I’m so good at poker.”
“Ugh. I’m terrible at card games. All of them.”
“What about board games?”
“You know, I don’t really like games, in general.”
I nodded. “Fair enough. What do you like to do in your spare time, then?”
I watched her relax in the chair a bit. “I like to sit.”
“Sit.”
“Yep.”
“Just sit?”
She smiled. “Yep.”
“And not do anything?”
She popped the “p.” “Ye-p.”
“Giving me a taste of my own medicine now?”
She winked. “Yep.”
I smiled. “I take it you have a practice somewhere in town, then?”
She nodded. “You were right about a lot of things last night. I opened my own practice a few months back. It’s a couple of blocks down from the police department in town. Right on the corner across from the bakery.”
“I love that place. I can’t go anywhere near it without going inside and getting—”
“One of their cinnamon sticks?” she asked.
I nodded. “Yep.”
She giggled. “I love getting those things. Especially when I’m hauling coffee into work
. I dip those things in my coffee, and it gives my coffee this wonderful cinnamon sugary sort of taste. It makes my damn mornings.”
“Good to know.”
She quirked an eyebrow. “Why?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. Just good to know. I enjoy learning about you.”
“Will I ever learn something about you?”
“What do you want to know?”
She paused. “You said you’ve lived here your entire life, right?”
I nodded. “Yep.”
“Are your bars a family business, then?”
“Of course.”
“Do you work with your parents at all?”
“Not that kind of family.”
“Oh?”
“Yep.”
“So, you work with another family?”
I grinned. “I work with men I consider my family. They’re my brothers, and we work well together. Despite how hotheaded some of them can get.”
Her eyes narrowed softly. “So, Sly is like a brother to you.”
I nodded. “Yep.”
It made me wonder if she was putting two and two together in her head. And I figured she was. I mean, she wasn't an idiot. She was a criminal prosecutor for crying out loud.
Divert. Make it about her again. Don’t lose her.
“Have you made good connections with the police department here yet?” I asked.
She nodded. “Yep.”
“Are things going well at work, then? Bringing in money? All that jazz?”
“Yes, technically.”
“Technically?”
She sighed. “Well, there’s still student loans I’m paying down. Hell, I’ll be paying those things down for years to come. Plus, there’s some credit card debt I’ve got from college. You know, just to help me survive and all that. I had scholarships, but law school and everything that comes with it is expensive as hell. It took me long enough to pay down my debt to where a business loan was manageable. But between all of my bills? It doesn't leave me much money to do anything with.”
“That must be frustrating.”
She sighed. “It’s the price for a good education and a great start in life. I’ve been fortunate, despite my pitfalls.”
“What kinds of pitfalls?”
“Oh, you know. An unsupportive family. A father that left when I was young. A mother who’s certifiably insane. Things like that.”
“I’m sorry, Joanna.”
Her eyes fell to her lap. “Me, too, some days.”
Link (Dragon Riders MC Book 1) Page 4