by Emma Slate
“That’s what I was trying to explain to you. You may not want him, but he definitely wants you. For him to kiss you in public like that? It was basically him putting his brand on you.”
I rolled my eyes. “That’s just dumb.”
She shrugged. “Like I said. It’s weird, and as an outsider, it’s hard to comprehend. Your grandmother wouldn’t want you to end up with a guy like that.”
“Please don’t bring her into this,” I said lightly.
“You’re right. It’s a cheap shot. But you have to swear to me that you won’t get involved with them.”
“I swear.”
The vow was made easily and without an agenda to get her off my back. I truly had no desire to get involved with Colt. Even if it had been the best kiss of my life.
“Good. Now am I allowed to change the subject?” she asked.
“Please.”
Shelly looked at me for a long moment and then stood up. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a sparkly ring and slid it onto her left ring finger.
“Oh my God.” I jumped to my feet. “Way to bury the lead!”
“I knew if I told you I got engaged last night—well, early this morning,” she grinned, “you’d want to talk about it. But I wanted to talk about your thing first.”
I grasped Shelly’s hand so I could get a look at her ring. “It’s beautiful. How did it happen?”
She smiled dreamily. “I got home from the bar and walked into the apartment. Mark had lit candles and scattered rose petals across the floor leading to the bedroom like a walkway. I followed them and…” Her cheeks flushed. “He was down on one knee, wearing a tuxedo. He said he didn’t want to propose on our one-year anniversary, so he proposed the day after. Even if that meant proposing to me the moment I got home from work. He said he didn’t want to wait any longer to start our life together.”
Tears misted my eyes and I launched myself at my best friend, who was a good six inches taller than me. “I’m so happy for you guys. You deserve all the happiness in the world.”
She hugged me back just as fiercely. “Will you be my maid of honor?”
Laughing, I pulled back and swiped the tears from my cheeks. “Like you even have to ask.”
Chapter 2
“You really don’t mind finishing the rest?” Shelly asked a few nights later. “I took out the garbage and cleaned the bathrooms already.”
“Go,” I said, taking a sip of my Red Bull.
Mark stood at the end of the bar and eagerly draped his arm around Shelly when she was close enough. He was four inches shorter than her, but clearly it didn’t matter to either of them. Shelly had finally found a good man who treated her the way she deserved and she loved him deeply.
“Dinner soon, yes? Our place,” Mark called out.
I nodded. “I’d like that.”
“I just got a new grill,” Mark said, his green eyes lit with excitement behind his glasses. “I am the grill master!”
Shelly rubbed her hand across his chest. “Yes, you are.”
“Please leave before I vomit and have to clean it up myself.”
Shelly saluted mockingly and then she and her fiancé left. I followed them and flicked the lock closed.
After I swept the floor, I cleaned out the icemaker and then counted the till. I gathered up the cash and receipts and headed to the back where Richie kept the safe. When I pushed open the door to the office, I lost my hold on the paperwork, which fluttered to the floor. Red Bull was no match for true exhaustion. I hadn’t slept well since I’d met Colt.
“Mia!” Richie exclaimed, jumping up from his chair.
“Crap,” I muttered, sinking to the ground. I didn’t spare him a glance. “Sorry. Thought you’d left already. Hey, can you open the safe for me?” Scooping up the derelict papers, I looked at Richie. His olive complexion was unusually pale and there was a sheen of sweat covering his long forehead. Slicked-back hair and beady eyes made my boss look like a weasel. His gaze darted from me to the corner of the room.
When I rose, the receipts and till in my hands, I realized Richie wasn’t alone. His companion stared at me with ill-concealed interest. I was used to being leered at; I was a bartender. But I’d learned that most of the guys were harmless.
Not this man.
A salt-and-pepper beard covered half his face and his silver hair was pulled back into a ponytail. Brown eyes surveyed me, making me feel naked. His gaze stayed riveted on my chest a moment before he looked up. A slight smile curved his lips.
Something was off with him. Though only average in height and bulk, I knew he was dangerous. His leather vest didn’t hide that he was packing. We were in Texas, so it wasn’t a huge shock. I even had a pistol in the glove box of my truck.
“Sorry,” I chirped, forcing a smile. “Didn’t know Richie had company. I’ll just leave all this here.” I walked toward the desk and set everything down, wanting to escape as soon as possible.
“Thanks, Mia,” Richie said, his voice strained.
“Mia,” the stranger crooned. “That’s a beautiful name.”
My smile remained in place, but I attempted not to engage. The man wasn’t having it. He strode toward me. He took my hand and brought it to his lips and I had to force myself not to pull it back.
“I never let strange men kiss me,” I teased, calling on my arsenal of bartending flirting skills.
“Call me Dev.” He kept my hand as his smile widened. “There. We’re not strangers anymore.”
I glanced at his leather cut, noting the president patch. Batting my eyelashes, I prayed he thought I was a ditz with a decent rack.
“You headed home?” he asked.
“Yup.” I extracted my hand. With a quick wave, I skedaddled out of the office and closed the door. I grabbed my purse from underneath the bar and exited to the side alley. I found my keys, ready to head to my beaten-up, green and rust colored vintage Chevy truck, but the sound of voices through the air duct stopped me.
“She’s a hot piece of ass,” I heard Dev say.
“She is,” Richie agreed.
Swine.
“Customers love her. She’s fast and her till is never off,” Richie continued.
“Is she smart?” Dev asked.
“I trust her with money, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“You know that’s not what I’m talking about,” Dev said, his voice dropping in tone. All playfulness, all lightness had leeched out of him, and I heard the dominance, the strength in him.
It was terrifying.
“She doesn’t know anything,” Richie promised. “She doesn’t know about our arrangement—”
“Good,” Dev interrupted. “It better fucking stay that way. New shipment coming in tomorrow. I don’t want any trouble.”
“There won’t be any trouble. She doesn’t know. No one at the bar knows anything.”
I’d heard enough. Whatever they were involved in, I wanted nothing to do with it. Backing away, I left the alley and got to my truck. I opened the heavy old door and climbed inside, wanting to get the hell out of there as fast as possible.
Richie’s bar wasn’t a biker bar, but in the last many days, two men from two different biker clubs had found their way in. Coincidence?
Doubtful.
“Have you heard from Richie? Or seen him lately?” Shelly asked three nights later.
I frowned. “Now that you mention it, no. I’ve been off the last couple of nights though.”
“Hmm. He’s usually here at the end of the shift to open the safe and put the till in, but he hasn’t come in yet. I’m glad he finally gave me the safe combo so I can do it myself.”
“Well, let’s hope he shows up tonight,” I said.
She held up a nearly empty bottle of tequila. “We’re out of Añejo and I couldn’t find any more in the store room.”
“There’s no way we’re out. Richie orders that stuff by the case.”
It took me a few minutes to find a rogue box of teq
uila hiding in the back corner of the storage room under a dusty box of Mike’s Hard Lemonade.
When I returned, the bar was packed. I held up the bottle in triumph and smiled.
“Why do I always miss stuff?” Shelly asked with a sigh.
I grinned at her. “You have no attention to detail.”
“I’d spray you with the water hose…except it’s totally true.” She laughed. “I’m good at other things.”
“Such as?”
She gave me a look like she was thinking something dirty.
“You’re such a dude.”
The next couple hours flew by as Shelly and I manned the bar, serving customers and vetoing horrid music selections on the jukebox. The tip jar by the register filled up, and it looked like it would be a good night.
When there was a brief lull, Shelly said, “I need to use the bathroom.”
I nodded as I reached for a rag, cleaning up a puddle of beer that had spilled across the bar. It was still sticky, so I crouched down to find the spray bottle of surface cleaner. When I stood up, I froze.
“How you doin’, sweetheart?”
It took all of my willpower not to flinch. Dev commandeered a stool as his eyes roved over me in appreciation.
“Hi,” I greeted in hesitation. “Can I get you a drink?”
He shook his head. “I don’t want a drink. Have you seen your boss?”
“Richie? No. He hasn’t been at the bar for a few days.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“You’re not lying to me, are you?” Dev’s voice was low and dangerous. “I don’t like people who lie to me.”
I adamantly shook my head. “I swear I haven’t seen him.”
His eyes bored into mine. “Give me your phone.”
Like an obedient child I reached into the back pocket of my jeans and retrieved my cell. I placed it into Dev’s outstretched hand.
He quickly typed something and then handed it back. “There. Now you have my number. And I have yours.” He winked. “If you see Richie, you call me. Immediately.”
“Okay,” I said, feeling faint.
He nodded, rising from his stool. “I’ll be back, but there’s one more thing.” He beckoned me with his finger to come closer. “I don’t want anyone to hear…”
Before I realized what he was doing he leaned over and planted his lips on mine. He tasted like stale cigarettes and bourbon. It took everything inside me to keep the bile in my stomach from rising. I was angry with myself for not seeing it coming.
“You’re a hot little piece.” His eyes dragged over me, like he couldn’t wait to see what I looked like naked. “Bet you’re fire in the bedroom. It’s gonna be fun finding out.”
He chucked me under the chin and then sauntered out of the bar. I saw the emblem on the back of his leather cut with Iron Horsemen in bold script.
Shelly came back from the bathroom. “What did I miss?”
I somehow managed to plaster a smile on my face and reply, “Nothing.”
I refused to confide to Shelly about Dev. I hadn’t even told her I’d walked in on Richie talking to the Iron Horsemen president a few days ago. If Shelly was warning me away from the Blue Angels, I didn’t want to give her more to worry about when I mentioned the Iron Horsemen.
The less she knew the better.
When we closed the bar for the night and I flipped the sign to read Closed, Shelly said, “You should go home early. Ditch out.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Because you’ve been working like a maniac and I owe you from when you closed by yourself the other night.”
“I don’t want to leave you alone here. Richie hasn’t made an appearance tonight. I don’t know if he will.”
“Mark will come.”
Mark didn’t look like much, but he was proficient in Krav Maga and had his concealed carry permit. It wasn’t what I would’ve expected from a spectacle-wearing computer programmer, but he was an alpha male, through and through.
“Okay, if you’re sure,” I said, glad that I was leaving Dive Bar for the night.
Shelly called to me, “Hey, I want to go wedding dress shopping this weekend. You in?”
I grinned. “Damn right.”
We hugged goodbye. I headed to the back exit and opened the door into the spring evening and smacked right into my missing boss.
“Ow,” I mumbled, rubbing my shoulder and glaring at him. “Where the hell have you been? And why are you skulking around? You know Dev is looking for you, don’t you?”
He ran a hand through his greasy black hair. “Did Dev come to the bar?”
“Yep. What sort of shit did you get into, Richie?”
He played dumb. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, why is there a biker club president walking in and out of Dive Bar like he owns the place?”
“I don’t have time to explain,” he evaded. “Wait here. I need a—just promise me you won’t leave right away.”
I paused, considering. Then I said, “I’ll be in my truck.”
“Give me five minutes. I left something in the office.”
Before I could reply, he dashed through the doorway and disappeared. I found my keys at the bottom of my purse and unlocked the truck. I got the engine going so as soon as Richie and I parted ways, I could go home.
Richie came out of the bar and ran to the passenger side. He scrambled into the truck, ducking down, keeping out of sight.
“Are you going to tell me what the hell is going on?” I demanded.
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I got into bad shit with the Iron Horsemen. I’m leaving town. I have to get out of here or they’ll kill me.”
Fear skated down my spine.
“But—but what about the bar?” I faltered.
“Don’t worry about the bar,” he growled. “You need to get the hell out of town for a little while. Lay low. Shit’s about to go down and you don’t want to be anywhere near it.”
“What kind of shit?”
He shook his head. “The kind of shit where people die.”
“Why are you being so cryptic? Just tell me what’s going—”
“For fuck’s sake!” he yelled. “Have you heard a word I’ve said? Listen to me or don’t. That shit’s on you.”
I rubbed my temple, trying to process Richie’s words. It was futile. He wasn’t going to divulge anything more. “Are you going to get out of my truck?” I asked finally.
“I need a ride to the bus depot.”
“I’m not your chauffeur, asshole, and you just got done telling me to leave town. I’m not fucking taking you anywhere,” I snapped.
“Please,” he begged. “Mia, I need your help…”
I glared at him, but I wasn’t immune to his plight. “Fine.”
He exhaled. “We have to make a quick stop on the way.”
“You’ve got a lot of nerve—”
“Mia, fuck, come on—”
“Where do you need to go?” I asked with reluctance. The sooner we took care of this errand, the sooner I could be rid of Richie.
He gave me the address of a storage unit a few minutes from the bar and we drove to it. I pulled into the main lot and he guided me around the side of one of the buildings through a gate.
“Keep the engine going.”
He was out of the truck before I could respond. He dashed across the pavement to the unit. Richie reached into his back pocket, extracted a key, and then shoved it into the lock. He lifted the rolling door a few feet off the ground and ducked inside.
A few minutes later, the storage unit was locked up again and Richie was back in my truck. We headed for the bus depot and when we arrived, Richie fiddled with the door handle. “Thanks, Mia.”
He climbed out. Before shutting the door, he said, “Give it a couple weeks. You’ll be fine to come back then.”
Richie took off for the bus terminal.
“Fuck you, Richie,” I said to his retreating form. “Fuck you
.”
Chapter 3
I called Shelly the moment I got home, even though it was nearly one a.m. She didn’t answer, so I left a voice message telling her to call me back immediately. My adrenaline had run its course and exhaustion was tugging at my eyelids. I looked around my grandmother’s house. Nothing had changed when she’d died. Same furniture, same curtains. It was like I was waiting for her to come back, as though she’d only run to the grocery store.
Waco hadn’t felt like home for a long time. Ever since Grammie had gotten sick, it hadn’t been normal. Not her house, not my job, not my life. When we found out she was terminal, I’d quit school and Shelly had gotten me a job at Dive Bar. Working nights at the bar left my days free to take care of Grammie. After she died, I picked up more shifts, took on more responsibilities at the bar, and generally did anything I could to stay out of the house—a house still filled with Grammie’s favorite things.
Boredom and sadness were a strange combination. To say I’d felt itchy in my own skin for a while was an understatement. I wanted to move and do something different, but for some reason I clung to the familiarity of Waco. The house was paid off, so there was no financial burden to contend with. What was really keeping me here aside from Shelly? Was I supposed to live my life for other people? She had Mark. In a few months, they’d be married and then they’d start a family and everything would change.
Where did that leave me? Jumping from one dead end job to another? Seeing Shelly and Mark on weekends when they weren’t doing couple things? And what about when they had a baby? Their time wouldn’t be their own. I would not see my best friend with any sort of regularity.
I didn’t realize until that moment, standing in my grandmother’s kitchen in the middle of the night that I was so incredibly lonely. I’d shut down while Grammie was sick—just trying to hold it together and get through the hardest thing life had ever thrown at me. But it was two years later and I was still in that place, just existing from one moment to the next. It had been easier to float through the last few years in numb acceptance. I smiled, I laughed and pretended things were fine, but the feelings of joy and satisfaction never reached my soul.