“So Walker’s doing better,” I continue the one-sided conversation. “Said he hates the damn medicine they gave him, but it’s grape flavored, so I’m like dude, how could you hate it? We didn’t have that shit when I was a kid. Fever broke the other day, and I finally got a good night’s sleep, ya know?”
She says something softly, acknowledging me as I slam my energy drink on the counter. “Pack of Marlboro Reds too, hard pack.” I throw a twenty down, waiting for her to turn and get the cigarettes.
The one thing that made me stop in here tonight.
Once she’s far enough away, I reach down and over, grabbing the guy crouched on the other side by the ski mask he has covering his face, bringing it hard against the wooden counter. He screams, blood pours everywhere.
“You broke my fucking nose!”
“You’re lucky I don’t break your dick.” I grab his belt, tossing him onto the floor. “This woman,” - I point back at Robbie - “is a good woman. She works nights here for her kids. To make a better life for them, not for some methed out fucker like you to come in here and rob her.”
He’s gaping at the blood still pouring from his mask. “I wasn’t gonna hurt her.”
“You had a knife.” I point to the discarded blade, laying on the floor.
His blue eyes come to mine, and he makes a dive for it, but I’m quicker than him. I kick it out of the way, then shove my boot onto his throat. “Give me a reason to break your neck, man. I’ve had a really fucking lousy couple weeks. I’d love nothing more than to take it out on you.”
“Let him go,” Robbie says softly from behind the counter. “I think he learned his lesson.”
“Did you?”
He nods, inhaling deeply when I lift my foot off him. It’s almost comical - how fast he runs away from me.
“Are you okay?” I ask her, walking back over to the counter.
She’s got her hands on it, inhaling and exhaling slowly. “Yeah, I’m just trying to calm my heart down. He came in here right before you showed up, and I didn’t know what to do.”
“You did the right thing. If you can’t overpower them, you always do what they ask you to until you can get the jump on them. I didn’t mean to make a mess.” I indicate the floor and the counter.
“It’s fine.” She waves her hand. “I’m texting the manager and telling her I’m taking a few days. They can look at the tape. I’m done for tonight.”
She throws my pack of cigarettes, which I catch with one hand. I watch as she grabs her purse and keys, turning off the lights, and locking the door.
“I’m following you over to Wet Wanda’s, I need a drink.”
Chuckling, I watch as she goes to her car. “Meet ya over there. Your tab is on me tonight.”
“Thanks, Dalton, Mandy’s lucky to have you.”
“Yeah,” I sigh. “Yeah she is.”
I just hope she thinks so.
Chapter Seven
Dalton
Entering Wet Wanda’s is almost like coming home. Weird, I know, but I’ve spent so much of my life in this place. The dark, hazy atmosphere is exactly what I need right now. Smoking hasn’t been allowed in Bowling Green bars for years, but here people do whatever the hell they want to.
You’ve gotta respect people who give a middle finger to what’s supposed to be right, and just do what they want.
Drew is standing in the corner, his arms folded over his chest, nodding at something Jagger’s saying. Walking over to them, I wait until there’s a lull in the conversation.
“How’s it going tonight?”
“Getting busier.” Drew chews on a piece of gum. “But it’s still early. Jagger and I were talking about a possible new recruit.”
“Oh yeah?” I turn to the other member of the club.
He’s older than us, but you’d never know it. He doesn’t seem to age.
“Yeah, a teacher who works with B.”
I raise my brow. “A teacher?”
He chuckles. “Yeah, you’d be surprised. He seems legit.”
“Everyone seems legit when they want something.”
“He’ll definitely need to be vetted.” Jagger steps back slightly. “And I promise I wouldn’t bring a name to the club without having a good feeling about it.”
Now I feel like an ass.
“Look, it’s not you, it’s me. I just had to kick some ass across the street. Some idiot had a knife on Robbie.”
“Are you okay?” they both ask.
“I handled it, but it’s got me on edge. I need a drink.”
“I’ll join you.” Drew shakes hands with Jagger, then puts his on my shoulder leading me to the bar. “One drink and that’s it,” he cautions. “We have a job to do.”
The strip joint has a sizable crowd tonight, all looking ready to raise hell. We belly up to the bar, I lift a finger. The bartender knows what we like. He pours me a double of Elijah Craig, and I down it, barely even feeling the burn at the back of my throat. It works though, immediately settling my nerves.
“Why aren’t you home with your wife and kids?” I rest my elbows on the scarred top of the bar, directing my gaze to Drew.
“Will’s colicky, and believe it or not, I’d rather be here than listen to him scream. Charity’s okay with it for now, so I’ll let it ride as long as I can.”
If there’s one thing I know about Drew, it’s that he can’t stand to listen to a kid scream. Not because it gets on his nerves, but he feels so helpless. Back when the twins were babies I saw him cry with them more than once.
“She’s more hardcore than you,” I tease.
“You ain’t lying. She can take it. She’s one of those ‘let ‘em cry it out’ parents. Me? I go scoop ‘em up and bring them to the bed with me.”
“Which is why it took you eleven years to have another kid.”
He chuckles.
