Gold Fire

by Starr Ambrose

  That was easy for Maggie to say; her husband was a cop in Barringer’s Pass. Even after last year’s scandal, people were more apt to accept her and consider her a solid citizen. Zoe didn’t have that advantage. “I already narrowly missed being accused of arson just because I was seen at the Rusty Wire; I don’t want to risk being involved in another incident.”

  “There’s no risk.” Maggie barely waited for Cal to park the car before hopping out and opening the back door. “Come on. Nothing’s going to happen when you’re with a cop. Just loosen up and have a good time.”

  It wasn’t as if she had much choice. She let them lead the way inside, trailing along like a reluctant kid while scanning the room for Jase. If she was lucky, he’d have the night off and be home with his feet up, watching TV. He seemed like the sedentary type.

  “Pool tables!” Cal turned to Maggie with a happy grin and slung an arm over her shoulder as they made their way toward the back room. “Why didn’t Sophie mention that?”

  Zoe glanced past Cal, then ducked back behind him. Damn it! Jase was there. He was bent over a pool table with his arm reaching around a girl to guide her shot. Zoe heard her squeal with delight and took another peek. It was the cute little blond thing from her previous visit, the one who looked like she should be home working on her cheerleading flips instead of hanging out at a saloon with a guy twice her age.

  An experienced guy. A guy who kissed with enough passion to cause an internal meltdown. The feeling came flooding back, leaving Zoe weak-kneed and flushed.

  “I think I’ll stop at the bar and get a drink. You guys go try out the pool tables.”

  She veered off before Maggie could object, taking an open stool at the far end of the bar where she wouldn’t be tempted to peek around the corner and accidentally see Jase pull his perky girlfriend against his chest and kiss the last bit of innocence out of her. He could do it, easily. It fogged her mind just thinking about it.

  “Looking for Jase?”

  Zoe blinked, bringing Jennifer’s face into focus. Her first thought was that the woman had no clue about serving the public; that tight expression couldn’t be helping business. Her dark hair was clipped at the nape of her neck tonight, making her features look even more drawn. She’d almost believe the woman never smiled, except she’d watched Matt coax a smile out of her and knew it could be done.

  “No,” Zoe said. “I’m here with my sister and brother-in-law. I’d like a glass of white wine, please.”

  Wordlessly, Jennifer filled a glass and set it in front of her. She met Zoe’s eyes with a cool gaze. If Zoe hadn’t watched her take out the glass and pour, she would have wondered if she’d spit into it first.

  “Seven dollars.”

  Zoe pulled out a ten. “Keep the change. It would cost me even more than that at the Alpine Sky.”

  Jennifer pocketed the money without a thank-you. “That’s because we don’t have to charge extra for a pretentious atmosphere.”

  Zoe lifted an eyebrow, taking her measure. “No, there’s nothing pretentious here.” Including the bartender, who seemed to value the stark truth. “You don’t like me much, do you, Jennifer?”

  “Not really.”

  Honesty wasn’t always an attractive quality. “You don’t even know me.”

  Jennifer shrugged. “Don’t have to. I know you offered Jase a ton of money so you could tear this place down. And even though he said no, you keep sniffing around here, looking for him.”

  “I’m not sniffing after Jase.” She’d snapped it out, frowning at the unpleasant image. “We aren’t even friends.” They weren’t enemies, either, since an enemy didn’t kiss you into a delirious puddle of goo. They were something—was there a term for someone who knew how to push all your buttons, both good and bad? She didn’t want to think about it because she could already feel the heat rising to her cheeks and knew the sharp-eyed bartender couldn’t miss it.

  Jennifer smiled disbelievingly at her denial. “Right.”

  It seemed her nasty mood was contagious. “Look, I already have a boyfriend,” Zoe told her. Sort of. Close enough to stretch the truth. “I’m not interested in Jase.”

  “You shouldn’t be. He’s not your type.”

  She paused. “What’s my type?”

  Jennifer gave her a condescending once-over. “Ambitious. Successful. Sophisticated.”

  Matt. She couldn’t have described him better, and Zoe was annoyed that Jennifer made it sound like second place. “You’re absolutely right. You can have Jase all to yourself.”

  The cynical look fell from Jennifer’s face, replaced by surprise. “Me?”

  It was a good fake; she must have thought no one knew. “You act like I’m moving in on your territory. I’m not.”

  Jennifer stared in disbelief for a moment, then apparently gave up the act. “Fine. Then stay away from Jase.”

  “Believe me, I intend to, except to discuss business.”

  “He won’t change his mind.”

  “Neither will my boss, so I’ll just keep doing my job and looking for a way to convince him to sell.” Jennifer was clearly unhappy with that answer, enough so that Zoe added, “I told you, we aren’t in competition. If you want Jase, go for it.”

  “Want him?” Jennifer gave one short laugh and turned away. End of conversation. Zoe watched her move down the bar, frowning after her. What was that about?

  Zoe swirled her drink. Jase had told her Jennifer was jealous, and she’d certainly sounded like it to Zoe. She didn’t like Zoe hanging around Jase, and she’d tried to implicate her in the fire. Could Jennifer be so deep in denial that she didn’t know how she felt about Jase? Falling for your boss could be confusing; Zoe knew about that. Falling for Jase probably compounded it. She could understand Jennifer thinking, I can’t possibly be drawn to this man. Boy, could she ever.

  She sipped her wine, thinking it over. Confusion might be a common reaction to Jase. He had that strong, silent thing going for him and those incredible kisses, but he also sat around a saloon doing nothing with his life. He was a tempting loser, the kind of man you wanted in bed, but not in the rest of your life. It was enough to send any woman’s mind reeling.

  Except for the cheerleader in the other room, stroking her cue stick over Jase’s balls. She didn’t look in the least confused.

  Zoe caught a man looking her over as he walked toward the restrooms. She deliberately looked away, staring pensively at the Coors sign behind the bar. She probably looked available, sitting at the bar alone. The last thing she wanted was some guy hitting on her, but there was no way she was going in the other room, not while Jase was bending some sweet young thing over a pool table.

  No wonder Jennifer felt grumpy about the competition if they all looked like that.

  She was ready to leave anytime. Unfortunately, since they’d spotted those pool tables, she probably had a long wait for Cal and Maggie. When she finished her wine she should order another glass and ask Jennifer to join her. They could amuse themselves by listing all the ways in which Jase Garrett was a loser and a jerk.

  • • •

  Jase had mistaken the redhead at the pool table for Zoe before realizing she was a little taller, and her hair was a little darker. Also, she had a touching-hugging-kissing relationship with a man who was not Matt Flemming.

  Curious to meet the woman who was obviously Zoe’s sister, he made introductions and invited them to switch partners, giving him time to talk to Maggie and giving Cal the opportunity to play a stronger opponent. After one game, he and Maggie quit to watch the show at the next table. Cal was currently barely holding his own against Hailey.

  “Stop going easy on her, Cal,” he advised from the sidelines. “She needs to get her butt kicked.”

  “I wish I was going easy on her,” Cal grumbled. “I think I just got suckered by a high school student.”

  “College,” Hailey sniffed. “I graduated from high school last month.”

  “You can take her, honey!” Maggie
called as he lined up a shot. “Show that little girl who’s boss!” Stepping close to Hailey, she confided, “If you attack their manliness, it totally screws up their thinking.”

  Hailey nodded. “So does cleavage.” Catching Jase’s narrowed eyes, she added innocently, “So I hear.”

  Eyeing his niece suspiciously, he leaned toward Maggie. “Please don’t give her any more advantages over the rest of us. I already owe her enough to cover her first semester at Colorado State.”

  Cal missed his shot, but brightened as he stepped back. “Gambling without a license? That’s illegal. I could arrest her.” He gave Hailey a speculative look. “Unless, of course, she wants to throw the game.”

  Hailey smiled sweetly as she stepped up to take her turn. “That would be dishonest. Of course, if that’s the only way your fragile ego will survive getting beaten by a girl . . .”

  Maggie laughed.

  “Cute,” Cal told her. “I’ve got a little sister a lot like you. I’d introduce you, but we keep her chained in the garage.”

  Hailey nodded sympathetically. “Too much for you to handle, huh?” She smacked the cue ball, banking off the side to sink the five.

  Cal arched an amused brow and turned to Jase. “I almost feel sorry for the boys at Colorado State. But I wouldn’t mind watching her beat them, either.”

  Jase smiled. He liked Cal Drummond. Maggie, too, who seemed like Zoe but less complex. He was willing to bet that what you saw with Maggie was what you got—she was uninhibited, with her emotions right there at the surface. Zoe was more restrained and cautious about revealing herself, but boiling with emotion deep inside. She would probably need to feel completely safe before showing the kind of social abandon her sister displayed.

  He smiled to himself—he could help her with that. Once Zoe let her guard down, he had a feeling she would be explosive. He’d seen a glimpse of it when he kissed her, as if an outer shell had melted away beneath his hands, freeing something colorful and wild. The power of it had stunned him, and left him wanting more. But she’d shut down, closing him out.

  He wasn’t discouraged. She’d felt it, too—he’d seen the amazement in her eyes. The attraction, too. If he could get her to trust him again, they could see just how explosive that passion could be.

  Jase started at a sound, jerking his wandering mind back to reality. For a second he thought someone must have called his name, then realized that what he’d heard was a loud, angry voice from the tables out front.

  A drunk with a temper. It happened occasionally, and all he could do with drunks was get them outside, then confiscate their keys until they sobered up. If they agreed to play nice, they could come back inside, but they were done drinking. So was anyone who sat with them, because he wouldn’t have their buddies slipping them drinks.

  “Excuse me a minute,” he said. The man was getting more belligerent and his bouncer probably needed help. He didn’t want any of the waitresses trying to deal with a belligerent drunk.

  He saw the guy right away—all he had to do was follow the stares. The guy stood beside a table on the other side of the dance floor, a body double for Conan the Barbarian, gesturing and yelling at a cowed waitress about a dirty glass.

  Damn, it was one of the new girls, too. She looked scared to death.

  Jase strode up to the table, stepping in front of the waitress. At six foot three he could almost meet the guy eye to eye, but figured he was outweighed by about seventy pounds. He held up both palms in a peaceful gesture. “Hey, buddy, take it easy. Let’s not scare the ladies. If you’ve got a problem, I’ll be glad to take care of it.”

  The guy scraped a withering gaze over him. “You the manager?”

  Close enough. “That’s right.”

  “Then I’ve got a problem, all right. You’re serving drinks in dirty glasses.” His voice was remarkably unaffected as he held up a drink that looked like whiskey on the rocks. Maybe anger had cleared his head.

  Jase looked. Sure enough, a greasy smudge crossed the lip of the glass. “I ain’t drinking out of a glass that hasn’t been washed.” He slammed the glass on the table. “You got anybody back there doing dishes, or are you just wiping ’em with a rag and refilling them?”

  Jase didn’t have to check, he knew Joe never let a glass leave the kitchen unless it was spotless. But mistakes happened, especially when the place was this busy. Plus, the customer was always right, especially when he was stinking drunk, the way this guy sounded. He spoke over his shoulder without taking his eyes off the angry hulk. “April, get the man a new drink. No charge.”

  “I already did,” April said, fear quivering in her voice.

  “That’s the second dirty glass she brought me!” the man yelled.

  Now he knew for sure the Rusty Wire wasn’t to blame; Jennifer and April both would have double-checked that second drink. But behind the drunk he saw a few customers glance at their drinks. He cursed under his breath; once the idea was planted, they’d have a rash of customers with dirty glasses. It wouldn’t matter that they were most likely streaked by their own greasy fingers and lips, they’d still expect a free replacement. He could accept that relatively minor loss, but hated knowing that some of them would leave here believing the Rusty Wire really had been using dirty glasses. He needed to get this guy settled down or out of here, and quickly.

  “I apologize, sir. If you don’t want a replacement, we’ll give you a full refund, no problem. Come with me.” The apology really irked him, knowing it wasn’t deserved, but sometimes it helped, getting grudging cooperation. This wasn’t going to be one of those times.

  “Come where? Back there by the kitchen? I ain’t setting foot in that rodent-infested place. When I used the john, I saw a mouse run under a wall. Probably on his way to the kitchen.”

  The place seemed to go silent, even though Shania Twain still sang about feeling like a woman. The couples on the dance floor stood still, watching the confrontation. At the tables, no one spoke.

  Jase set his jaw, fury rising inside him. The guy was flat-out lying, and doing more damage every second. It didn’t matter that not one of those customers had ever seen a mouse in here; half of them undoubtedly wondered if they’d just seen one scuttle under the bar. The guy might just be spewing alcohol-fueled rage, but it had to stop. Now.

  “Sir, I have to ask you to leave.” He closed the distance between them, encouraging him to step toward the door. Where the hell was his bouncer?

  “I ain’t going nowhere. I’m calling the health inspector. They’re gonna shut this dump down.”

  “You do that. From the parking lot.”

  A chair scraped behind him. “Who you ordering around?”

  Jase turned. A second man, as burly as the first, stood at the next table. In the back of his mind, it registered as odd. Another hulk, at the next table? Siding with the first? But he had no time to think about it. Two men threatened him, from either side. He was in good shape and had some experience grappling with mean drunks, but not two jumbo-size drunks at the same time. And not with a bug-eyed waitress frozen at his side.

  “April!” He saw her blink. “Get out of here. Now.”

  April looked at him, mouth open, eyes wide with fear. He wasn’t sure she even understood what he’d said. Shit.

  He was reaching to shove her forcibly out of the way when she suddenly jerked backward, propelled by a hard yank on her arm. He glanced past her to see who’d had the presence of mind to rescue her, and stared in surprise. Zoe?

  He didn’t have time to wonder where she’d come from, or how long she’d been there. A movement at the corner of his eye warned him that the first pissed-off giant drunk had decided to take advantage of the distraction and start a fight. He barely avoided the man’s fist as it plowed through the air beside his head.

  He preferred to back off if he could avoid a fight, but the man behind him was no doubt winding up his own punch in drunken support. He took the only option available. Grabbing the man’s wrist before he could
pull it back again, he yanked forward as he stepped aside, sending one giant crashing into the other. While both of them staggered, he twisted the man’s arm behind his back and pushed him face forward across a table.

  A roar of pain and profanity told him he had the arm just high enough to wrench some tendons without dislocating the shoulder. Drunk Number One was furious, but subdued, and smart enough not to move.

  He couldn’t say the same for Drunk Number Two. The impact with his friend had sent him staggering backward, but that only bought Jase a few seconds. One more, and the guy would be on his back. Now would be a good time for that bouncer to show up.

  He didn’t. Behind him, the second drunk bellowed with rage. Jase couldn’t let go of Drunk Number One, so he half-turned, hoping to lessen the hurt Drunk Number Two was about to lay on him. He tensed, legs braced. When nothing happened, he turned to look. The man’s angry bellow turned into something more like pain as he fell to the ground, clawing at his face. Instantly, Cal was on him, flipping him to his stomach and sitting on his thighs as he writhed and yelled.

  As Jase watched, Cal tossed something to Maggie with a “Thanks, babe,” and caught the zip cuff she tossed in return. Seconds later, Drunk Number Two lay cuffed and cursing on the floor.

  “Mitch!” Drunk Number One yelled at his friend and lifted his head, trying to see. He squirmed beneath Jase’s hold. “Hey, dickhead, what’d you do to him? You can’t get away with that. I’m gonna call the police. Then I’m gonna call the health department. They’re gonna close you down, you motherfucking prick.”

  Jase used his free hand to grab the guy by the collar and pull him upright. “Let me save you some trouble. Meet the police.” He turned him to face Cal.

  Cal gave Drunk Number One a cold look. “At your service.” He grabbed the guy’s wrist and slipped it into another cuff. All the fight suddenly went out of the man and he stood stoically as Jase guided his other hand through the cuff and Cal pulled it tight.