“Sure,” the woman grinned swaying slightly and bumping her shoulder into Blake’s. “He’s right over there.” She waved her hand sloshing some of her drink on the floor. “Mr. High and Mighty himself. Do you want a job?” She leaned forward bracing one elbow on the dark bar and meeting Blake’s gaze. “We could use a fella like you.”
“Like me?”
“Yeah, young, unknown, eager.” She stared at him a moment one side of her mouth kicking upward. “You have funny eyes.”
“So I’ve heard,” Blake grinned at her grabbing her elbow as she swayed on her feet and helping her drop onto the stool next to him.
A strong hand fell on Blake’s other arm as the hair on the back of his neck rose, sending a shiver down his spine.
“Get your hands off of her,” a craggy voice growled.
Blake released the woman’s arm lifting his hands as something hard and cold bit into his back. “I was just helping the lady take a seat,” he spoke softly.
“Stoff being a prig,” the woman said, her words more slurred than ever. “I’m just having a friendly conversation wif this rube.”
“Darcy, you know the boss don’t like it when you take an interest in the fella’s here.”
“I ain’t interested.” A hiccup made her cover her mouth as her dark eyes widened. “The rube needs a job and Pierce said he was lookin’ for someone new.”
“You lookin’ for a job?” the lumpy looking man asked, stepping around behind the young woman. He had a heavy face with sallow cheeks and a receding hair line, but his eyes glinted like garnet.
“Yeah,” Blake said, extending his hand toward the other man. “Names Blake, Blake Ares and I could use work.”
“See Jim, I told you so.”
“Darcy, why don’t you go to your room and let us men take care of this,” the man called Jim said. “You’ve had too much to drink already, and you don’t want Pierce seeing you sloppy again. He don’t like it.” The lumpy man shot his eyes at a dark corner then back at the young woman.
Blake watched as the woman sat up straighter placing her unfinished drink back on the table as a flicker of fear flashed in her dark eyes. “I’m not drunk.” She turned looking toward the table where a broad blonde man sat playing cards. “I’m not drunk,” she repeated.
“Suit yourself,” the muscle said. “Just lay off the hooch, and I’ll see if Blake makes the cut. You ain’t overly picky ‘bout what you do are ya?” Again, the man’s eyes roved over Darcy’s face, a hint of soft light glowing in there depths.
Blake shook his head and grinned as he lifted his drink and took a sip. “I’m not particular as long as the whisky’s flowin’ and the money’s good.”
A bark of laughter shook the burly man and he slipped something back into his jacket. “Looks like you got something right tonight, Darcy,” he chuckled again turning and walking away.
“Huh,” Darcy huffed, her eyes glinting with malice as Blake rose to his feet. “You men, you’re all the same. As long as the good times keep rolling you’ll do just about anything. You’re all worthless.” Her eyes hardened as she met Blake’s golden gaze and hesitated a moment before standing and staggering toward a door at the back of the room.
Chapter 5
“Well look-it,” Darcy walked into the bar room the heavy fringe covering her red dress swaying with each step. She was rake thin but held a long black cigarette clip negligently in her hand. “If it isn’t my favorite turnip,” her dark, luminous eyes shone with a fevered light as she leaned against the bar. “Gin,” she growled.
Blake nodded to the bartender and pulled the lapels of his new suite jacket straight. The dark charcoal pin stripe was a sober contrast to the woman’s flamboyant flame red dress. “Miss Darcy,” Blake’s amber eye roamed the woman’s form with a glint of compassion. She had lived up to her word and had gotten him a job working for the man who owned the establishment. After two weeks of hefting hidden barrels, and dodging nosey cops, he had been promoted to bouncer, not for his brawn, but for his ability to see trouble coming before it arrived.
He had first caught the boss’s eye when a drunken man began making demands of the bar tender. The patron had been growing steadily more belligerent as the night wore on but hadn’t actually tried anything. He had just staggered to his feet and raised a fist at the bartender when Blake stepped from the back room with a crate of bottles.
In a flash the young lawman had assessed the situation and acted on pure instinct, jumping over the bar and grabbing the drunken man’s arm before anything more could come of it. “I think you’d better go home and sleep it off,” Blake said jovially, as he grasped the man’s neck in a steely grip. “We’ll all be here tomorrow, and you can have some of the good stuff that comes in tomorrow.”
Before the man had time to think, he had been hustled out of the speakeasy and into the street, his return barred by the heavy door at the entrance. From that night on, Blake had truly been a part of things happening in this place.
Again, last night Blake had escorted three loud mouth men from the speakeasy, not only to protect the other patrons from their rising tempers, but also to protect the men themselves from the owner’s wrath.
Pierce Franco was not a man to be trifled with, and he held tight to whatever he considered his own. Blake pulled his eyes away from Darcy as she grasped her drink pulling it close.
“You
