by D. M. Webb
Heat radiated from his palm, spreading across her lower back. She peered up at him. In the dark, his eyes seemed to glow with an inner fire. Something in the set of his face created a cold lump within her stomach.
He stopped beside his motorcycle. His hand left her back as he straddled the seat and turned to her, helmet in hand. “Here.”
She held the helmet. “What?”
Was he wanting something? Needing her to do something?
“Put it on. Take a ride with me.”
His eyes bored into her heart. She swallowed. A ruthlessness rose to the surface of his face. She shook her head as she stepped closer. “I can’t tonight, David.”
He accepted the helmet back from her with a scowl. “Why not? We’ve been trying to make plans to go out, but nothing ever comes of it. Tonight’s as good a time as any.”
Maggie took a deep breath. Oh, how she wanted this, but right now, he scared her.
“David.” She touched his cheek and stroked the coarse beginning of whiskers along his jaw. Even with a layer of red dust, even with a faint undercurrent of anger, his face captivated her. “It’s late. Why not stop by my place tomorrow, and we’ll listen to my records?”
He smiled slightly. “What if I want more? Tell you what. Why don’t you come with me tonight? We’ll listen to them together, just you and me, tonight. All night?”
He snagged her belt loop and reeled her closer. She stumbled across the rocks in the lot. Her hands splayed across his chest. His hand traveled over her shoulder and up her neck, heat trailing in its wake.
Her fingers dug into his muscles. “No. I can’t do that, David.”
His eyes clouded over. Good gracious, he was changing before her. A part of her melted at the wildness that he exhibited. Oh boy, she needed help in staying strong.
“Can’t or won’t?” His fingers wrapped in her hair, forcing her head down. His lips met hers in a crushing kiss.
She whimpered. Everything inside turned to pudding. Her hands curled around his head. Oh, let it happen. She couldn’t hold back any longer.
A truck backfired. Maggie jumped. She pushed against him as she sent a quick thank-you heavenward. This would have been a huge mistake.
“David.”
“Just a backfire. Come on, hop on.” His green eyes burned.
She stepped back. Her hand still held his. When did she grab it? “I can’t. I’m sorry.”
He stared at her for a moment and then pulled away and started his bike. Every emotion fled from his face with each rev of the motor. “Fine. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
Maggie held a hand over her fluttering heart. Something was so wrong with this. What changed? “I can call you later tonight.”
He shook his head and then slammed the helmet down onto it, the strap dangling below his chin. “No need. I won’t be home until late. See ya, Margaret Allison.” He gave her one last hard look and then backed away.
She blinked against the spray of rocks from the motorcycle’s tires. Tears pricked her eyelids. What had just happened? What was wrong with David? Was the change in him because she wouldn’t stay the night with him? She took a deep breath.
“You’re a big girl, Maggie.” She kicked a rock with a foot and frowned. The man could make her all gooey inside and then, in a flash, turn cold like an arctic iceberg.
“Maggie! There you are.” Sarah’s voice shouted from the gates. Dennis and Sophie trailed behind her, laughing.
She heaved another sigh and slapped at a mosquito that buzzed her neck. Her fingers caressed the spot where David’s fingers had been. The heat from his touch still lingered, even though a cold wind blew across the parking lot.
Oh, Lord, be with him tonight. Something beyond her understanding churned within him.
Chapter 13
DAVID REVVED THE HARLEY even higher. Reckless? Who cared? The wind rushed past him. His initial anger rode its wake. Jeremy caused this. Whether that was an exaggeration or not, he didn’t care. Maggie was the problem too. Maggie with her beguiling eyes and long, soft tresses. He didn’t need either of them.
His arms strained to control the bike as he flew around the curve. The Mudslide was half a mile down the road. His body craved its namesake drink. How many days had he denied himself a taste? Too many. Now, thanks to a brother and a woman, he was only yards away from paying Jim Beam a call.
Gravel kicked up as he rode the bike into the parking lot. Here on the edge of town, everything had a different feel. Sunset came sooner. The hush of night fell quicker.
David dismounted and noticed Sam’s truck. He grinned. Alright, things were better. Drinking buddies were here. He hurried to the door. Inside the not-at-all-swanky bar, cigarette smoke hung like a thin veil in the air. The proprietors had an old style jukebox in the corner, and it played a Hank Williams Jr. song. He grimaced. Surely there was more than country on that box.
At some of the tables, men, faces savaged by booze and time, laughed and drank with women sporting caked-on make-up. In dark corners, loners with haunted looks sipped drinks. Then there were people like him. They joked, laughed, and played pool. Here for a good time.
He stopped at the bar. “Sandy, give me a Mississippi Mudslide with a Jim chaser.”
He needed his elixir of forgetfulness. Sandy placed the small drink in front of him, and he downed it in two gulps. He didn’t know which went to his head first, the vodka or the Kahlua. The shot glass of Jim Beam, smooth, velvet liquid, flowed into his body. He laid the bills on the bar and threaded his way through the tables. Sam and Toby circled the pool table, throwing the balls out of the pockets and onto the table’s top. They looked up and shouted.
“David, man! You made it.”
David removed his jacket and flung it over a nearby stool. “Only live once, right?”
“Yeah, right.” Sam handed him the pool stick.
Toby laughed and racked the balls. “She turned you down, didn’t she?”
“Shut up. Here.” He gave Sam twenty bucks. “Get us some beer. Make it good.” David took the blue chalk cube and rubbed the cue tip. “My break?”
Toby held out his hands. “Go for it.”
Anger, hurt, betrayal, and shame all wrapped in a neat little wad traveled down David’s arm and into the pool stick. With a loud crack, the balls scattered across the green felt. Three stripes and a solid flew in the pockets.
“Stripes.” How fitting.
On his next shot, the thirteen ball missed by an inch, and he stood away from the table as Toby gauged his own move. Sam returned with the beer.
David smiled. The mellow taste of the lager filled his mouth. Sweet nectar. Before long the buzz would be there. That comfortable old friend.
Within minutes, he and Toby had the table down to just the eight ball. Toby knocked it into the side pocket, and another game began.
An hour and four beers later, with a crowd ringing their table, David tapped the corner pocket with his stick. “Twelve ball, corner.”
“Long shot, David.” Sam leaned against his stick. He nudged Toby, who stood, droopy-eyed, by the wall. “Toby, wake up, man. It’ll be your turn soon.”
David grinned and leaned down to line up his shot.
The stick slid smoothly through his fingers and connected with the cue ball. It rolled down the length of the table, tapped the twelve ball lightly against the side, and the purple striped ball fell into the pocket. Now the eight ball taunted him.
The crowd clapped. David looked up. A dark-haired temptress along the edge of the crowd, her tongue playing with the straw in her drink, stared at him. She gave a small wink in his direction. He smiled. Her attire left nothing to the imagination. Her shirt, little more than a bandana, clung to her. She wore shorts that would have put Daisy Duke’s to shame.
“David! You going to shoot or drool over her, man?”
David rapped Sam on his side with the stick. “Eight ball, side pocket.”
“No way.”
A soft voice added to theirs
. “Side bet? You buy a round of drinks? Something to make it fun?”
David and Sam turned to the woman. Even the half-drunk Toby lifted his head. She wove her way to them, teetering on extremely high heels. A hint of musk, a pleasant and heady perfume, floated through the air and tickled David’s nose. She stopped short of their side of the table.
“Deal.” Without a thought the words left his mouth. “I miss, I buy.”
Sam shook his head and backed up to give David room. “You’re an idiot.”
“Well, either way, I’ll still get what I want.” He gave the woman, and her not-so-hidden promises, one last look and then bent down. To do this shot, he needed to bank the cue ball. The stick angled ever so slightly, and David aimed at the top right of the ball.
Maybe it was the beer. Maybe it was the intoxicating perfume. Maybe he just didn’t care if he lost, but the cue ball banked the far side, came back toward him, and tapped the eight ball. The lone black ball stopped on the edge of the side pocket.
Sam hooted and took the easy shot. The ball fell into the side pocket.
The crowd laughed, clapped, and started to disperse. The woman grazed her eyes over David and sashayed back to the bar.
Sam laid the stick on the table. “I think I need to get Toby home.”
David punched Toby in the shoulder. The burly man barely opened his eyes and let out a belch. “Need help?” he asked Sam.
“Nah. Used to it, man.” Sam grabbed one of Toby’s arms and slung it over his shoulder.
Ignoring Sam’s comment, David shrugged on his jacket and took Toby’s other arm. Together they hoisted the man to his feet.
“Yo, dudes. Wha’ ya doin’?” Toby shuffled his feet in step with theirs.
“Takin’ you home, man.”
“Who ‘on?”
“Y’all did.” David dragged Toby through the bar. “Supposed to buy drinks, but looks like it’s a rain check for y’all.”
“Should be a rain check for you.” Sam kicked the door open with his booted foot.
Together they half dragged, half carried the drunken Toby to Sam’s truck. David grabbed the door handle and opened the side door. It was harder hoisting Toby into the truck than dragging him out of the bar. Toby groaned and curled up in the seat.
“I’ll see you ‘morrow.”
“I meant it, David. You’re wasted, man.”
David spread his hands opened. “Four beers ain’t nothing. ‘Sides–” He looked at the door. The dark beauty leaned against the frame. “–I got a promise to collect.”
“Like I said. Idiot.” Sam jumped into his truck. “See ya later, man. Stay safe.”
David slapped the hood as he walked by, trying to keep his feet from stumbling, and threw a wave. “See ya.”
The woman pushed away from the door frame as he approached. The perfume seemed stronger and her eyes, darker. There were promises hidden in there. Her lilting voice, smooth as Jim Beam, met him. “Buy that drink now?”
David wrapped his arm about her waist and pulled her to him. “What would you like?” He led her to the bar, arm still around her, thumb stroking the bare skin.
He sat down, and she perched next to him, her long legs crossed. David touched her bare knee, caressing the soft skin. She didn’t slap him away.
She leaned forward, and David glimpsed her body underneath that itsy-bitsy fabric. “How strong are you?”
“Hmm?” He tore his gaze away from her chest. “How strong you need me to be?”
She smiled. Her teeth gleamed as she spoke. Vampire. One bite on the neck, that was all. He would want that. “There’s a drink that I like. You want to know the name?”
“What?” He leaned in closer. “Something exotic?” He traced her collarbone with a fingertip. She didn’t push his hand away. Her head arched back a little, and he nuzzled her neck. Her fingers ran back and forth across his chest. The manicured nails dug in with each pass.
“Something strong.” She pulled back and rapped her knuckles on the bar top. Sandy moseyed over. “Four Spreaders.”
David chuckled. “I know that drink. Bring it on, baby.” A hot thirst dried his mouth as the drinks were poured, equal parts rum, tequila, gin, and vodka.
Their glasses clinked and in one gulp, the fiery hot liquid slid down his throat. His head exploded in a clouded daze. His face flushed. His body melted. Man, that stuff hit hard.
David smiled. “Tell me your name.”
“Tammy.” Her voice slurred the words, or was that his hearing? She leaned closer, and David felt the heat from her body.
He half stood and pulled her closer. “One more, yeah?”
“Well, I ordered four. It gets me going.”
“I bet.” David handed her the drink, and he downed another. He welcomed the sensation. Dante’s inferno. His descent into sin and pleasure was forthcoming. Her arms snaked around his neck.
“I tol’ you it gets me goin’.” Her slurred words barely registered.
David fell into her dark eyes and their forbidden delights. No quitting now. Her red lips parted. Someone had changed the songs on the jukebox, and he dimly acknowledged the new song, the J. Geils Band singing Rage in the Cage. Yeah, that was him tonight, a rage rearing to be loosed.
His lips barely touched hers. Soon he’d have–
A hand landed on his shoulder and propelled him back. He crashed into the stools.
A gravelly voice echoed in the bar. “Tammy!”
David staggered against the effects of the push and the booze, aware of people standing and leaving. Sandy pulled out his cell phone.
“I ain’t yours anymore, Roger.” She swayed on her heels and gripped the bar for support.
David pushed one of the stools out of the way. No one was going to deny him his pleasure tonight. He’d had enough of that. He sidled between the bearded, tattooed man and Tammy. The guy was a bulky mass of fat and muscle. Tammy pressed herself against David’s back, her hands clutching at his biceps through his jacket.
“Go away. Woman says she don’t want ya.” David stood nose to chin with the man, daring him.
“Out of my way, little man. She belongs to me. She leaves, you don’t get messed up.” He pressed himself closer.
David pushed back and shrugged off Tammy’s hands. “She ain’t goin’.”
“Listen. She’s my woman. I say she leaves. And you get to live.”
Tammy pressed against him, her hands grabbing his back pockets. David smiled. “And I said she don’t wanna go.”
The tattooed man stepped forward, fist cocked. Her hands left his body.
“No. I’ll go.” Tammy slid from behind him.
David laughed. Did she think he was stupid? She gave up way too easily. He turned, grabbed her wrist, and yanked his wallet from her closed fist.
“No country bumpkin here, darlin’.” He slipped the wallet into his jacket pocket.
She glared at him. He snarled. Did she think she would get away from him? He grabbed a handful of her hair and yanked. His lips met her mouth in a rough kiss. Like he said, no one was going to deny him his pleasure.
A fist slammed into him and sent him into the bar. The edge struck him above his kidneys. David whirled. Tammy fled out the door, and the tattooed man heaved another strike at him. David dodged. With a maniacal laugh, he grabbed a mug from the bar and slammed it across the man’s face. Like a bull, Roger shrugged it off and glared at David.
Not good. David reached down, pulled out his pocket knife and flicked open the blade. They circled once, and David motioned to him. “Let’s go, wimpy boy.”
It started. He jumped back from the fist and slashed with his knife, feeling it slice through the skin. Then a vise grip latched onto his wrist and the knife hit the floor. David flew through the air. He lost his breath as he landed on a table. He rolled off and faced Roger again. The guy’s booted foot sent the knife skittering along the boards and out of sight.
“Lost your toy, little boy.”
David snarled and
sent a kick into that fat gut, feeling his foot sink between the folds. Pleasure at seeing the man double over coursed through David’s body. He drove his knee up. Cartilage crunched as it connected with the man’s nose. David’s elbow came down onto the neck. Then he was flying again. His head hit the support beam, and stars flashed before him.
A lead block drove itself into his stomach. Rancid tobacco breath hit him in the face. David spat at Roger and lashed out with his head, connecting with a brick wall of flesh. Both of them dropped to the floor. Oh, that was stupid.
David staggered up and landed a fist into the guy’s face. Blood spurted. A glancing blow struck David across the temple, and he stumbled back a little. He wasn’t going down that easy. He felt blood dribble from his own nose and swiped at it.
The man’s breathing was heavy, but he roared and charged. David grabbed a chair and swung. His shoulders vibrated as it slammed into Roger’s chest. Then David was on the floor. He clawed away and stood. Roger advanced on him, and David tackled him. Both of them hit the floor, and he took his chance to drive his fist into that bearded face. Once. Twice. Then an anvil had him sliding under a table.
David enjoyed the mayhem. Come what may. This was better than false promises. Rage fueled him.
: : : : :
“J forty-nine, we got a report of a disturbance at Mudslide Bar on Donaldson Road.” Dispatch broke Jeremy’s silent contemplation of his brother as he patrolled his route. So many things did not add up.
He grabbed his mike. “Copy that, dispatch. Radio J forty-three. Probably another bar fight.”
“Copy, forty-nine.”
Jeremy hit his lights and drove through a red light. And here he thought tonight was going to be quiet. Within minutes, he arrived at The Mudslide. Baers pulled in right behind him.
He greeted the big man as he climbed out of the car. “Same old stuff. I hate this kind of night.”
Baers grunted and shrugged into his vest. “You’re telling me. Festival night, what did you expect? At least most already left the bar.”
People milled outside, drinks and beers in hand, as they waited for Jeremy and Baers to approach. Crashes sounded from inside as they got closer. Glass shattered, and a foul curse echoed.