She hesitated some more. “How do I know this won’t go any farther?”
“You can have my word, if that counts for anything.”
For what felt like a lifetime, she studied his face. Rowdy resisted the urge to narrow his eyes in irritation. He was many things, most of them shady as shit.
But he wasn’t a liar.
Finally she nodded. “The drugs I mentioned? Well, some big guy—I think probably a supplier—came in on my third night, and he was really furious about something. Looked like he’d already gone up against a Mack truck, and he had his sights set on Dougie.”
“That’s the bartender here now, right?” Rowdy was familiar with the wiry, hyper guy usually serving up drinks. He had dark, thick hair held in a stubby ponytail, and sported a stud in one ear. Despite the foulness of the bar and the sketchy clientele, he smiled a lot.
“None other.”
“Someone came after him?”
“With a switchblade.” Avery shuddered. “And I was supposed to look out for him.”
The constriction of rage and concern had Rowdy straightening to his full height. “Some dumb f**k actually expected you to go up against a blade?”
The language filled her blue eyes with censure. “Obviously I’m not physically equipped for a conflict like that.”
“You’re not equipped for a conflict with a pillow!” She was small and soft and—
Cutting off his observation, she said, “So I called 911.” Her mouth flattened. “Big mistake.”
The concern continued to throb inside him. “You didn’t get hurt?”
“I almost got fired!”
From this dive? Big frickin’ deal. Might’ve been doing her a favor. Except then he wouldn’t have met her, and now, having met her, he needed to have her. “I take it cops are unwelcome.”
“Very much so—because of the drugs as much as anything else.” She rubbed at her temples. “Dougie didn’t get hurt too much. A cut on his arm that required some stitches. Once I yelled that the cops were coming, the guy took off.”
“Thank God.” If the dude had turned his rage on Avery instead, they might not be here talking now. “Does he still come around?”
“The knife wielder? No. Disappeared.” She gave him another look. “You should really find out more about the inner workings here before you tie yourself to this place. I have a feeling that once you stop the drugs...” She fumbled midsentence, staring at him with those big blue eyes the color of the sky. “That is...you would put a halt to that, wouldn’t you?”
A tendril of her silky red hair drew his fingers. He toyed with it.
He wanted to toy with her. In bed.
“Count on it.” He would run a legit business even if it killed him. He didn’t particularly want to give the cops a reason to hang around either.
Avery slumped in relief. “Then I’m glad you plan to take over. And if you want me to bartend, count me in. I’d be more than happy to quit my second job.”
“Second job?”
“You didn’t think I supported myself working here, did you?”
There was a lot he didn’t know about Avery Mullins—but he wanted to find out.
“I’m better than Dougie, and more honest, so I’ll expect a raise over what he makes. But I don’t need a barback, so you’d still be ahead.”
He’d be protecting her, so he shrugged an agreement.
“You’re going to cause a ruckus, you know. There are a lot of regulars who get their supply from Dougie. They won’t like being cut off.”
Rowdy wondered if the drugs covered more than the recreational variety but didn’t want to entangle Avery further. “I’ll take care of it.”
She smiled, and her happiness stroked over him.
Still fingering that loose curl, Rowdy stepped closer, lowered his voice intimately. “Why don’t you come back to my place after work?” Wasn’t much of a place, but it had a bed, so...
Her eyes widened. As if she only then realized that he had her hair wrapped around his finger, she frantically freed herself. “Sorry, no.”
Rowdy fought back the expanding discontent. “Tomorrow?” Knowing what she’d say, he asked, “Day after?”
“I can’t, Rowdy. I’m sorry.”
Okay, time for straight talk. It was that kind of night, the kind where heading home alone wasn’t an option.
The kind where lousy memories crawled in and refused to quiet—unless he found a way to block them. So far, sex worked the best.
He stepped around Avery, cutting off her escape, and then casually—without threat—corralled her into the corner. “I’m taking someone home with me tonight.”
She made a face at his confidence. “So cocky.”
“I like it when you talk dirty.”
Swatting at him, she said, “You assume it’ll be that easy for you, huh?”
“With you? No. With another woman?” He shrugged. “But I’d prefer it be you.”
Something flashed over her features, something like indignation, disbelief. Maybe sorrow.
She lifted her chin. “And if it’s not me?”
He wouldn’t lie to her. “Then it will be someone else.”
Anger tinged with hurt narrowed her eyes. “Go on, then.”
When she hurriedly ducked away, Rowdy let her leave. He felt the loss even as he tried to deny it.