The barwe pull up to an hourter is like a thousand others. It looks more like a shack than an actual ce of business, but the dozen or so cars parked in the parking lot and the music sting from the open windows says it isn’t going to close anytime soon. Alcohol is one of those things that will never go out of favor. There will always be someone steeped in misery and in need of something to drown theirsorrows.
Before I open the truck door, Gracin puts a hand on my arm and says, “Wait for a second, we should talk before wego<span>in.”
I sh him a wobbly smile. “I think we’ve talked enoughfor<span>now.”
He shakes his head. “I mean about what we do when we get inthere.”
Oh. That makes sense, so I nod and wait for Gracin to fill me in onthe<span>n.
“If we’re lucky, none of Danny’s friends willrecognize<span>us.”
“And ifwe’re<span>not?”
I should be terrified by the prospect, but I can’t deny the buzz of anticipation just beneath my skin. I don’t know if I’m excited about the idea of revenge, thrilled to be outside and doing something about what happened to me, or if I’m just high on the intensity that’s rolling off Gracin in waves. It doesn’t matter. I’m itching to get inthere.
He doesn’t answer my question, but he doesn’t have to, the gun he stuffs in a holster underneath his shirt says enough.He hands me another, and I hide it at mywaistband.
“Just listen to what I tell you to do, and we’ll be fine.” I nod again, and he continues. “They won’t know who I am here, so I’m going to join the card game, and you’re going to sit where I tell you and be quiet until I speak toyou,<span>okay?”
I make a zipper motion over my lips. “Whateveryou<span>say.”
He considers me for a second. “Why can’t you be like this allthe<span>time?”
“What fun would that be?” I say and then open my door andhop<span>out.
“I’m starting to think this was a bad idea,” he says as we walk to thefront<span>door.
The sign over the porch says simply, Ray’s, and the interior is as unassuming as the exterior. Since the only light in the ce ising from the backssh behind the counter and a few ancient-looking fixtures above that must be on a dimmer, the inside is as dark as the inside of a cave. The smell isn’t much better. Dirt, dust, man, and sweat assault my nose, making me have to work hard to keep from wrinkling it in revulsion. Peanut shells crunch underfoot as we cross the room to the bar where two lone men sit sipping their respective drinks. Music ys on low from an old-fashioned jukebox tucked in thecorner.
A woman in a skimpy tank top with skin in desperate need of moisturizer sidles up to us and plops down a rag. “What can I getcha?” she asks around the cigarette clutched betweenher<span>lips.
“Beer, whatever you have on tap, for me,” Gracinreplies.
“The same for me,” I say, pleased to find my voice is steady despite mynerves.
Gracin slides a couple crumpled dor bills across the counter as she ms two chilled sses down in front of us. I take a sip to keep my hands busy and twist in my swiveling chair to study the rest of the bar. Gracin keeps his back to a corner as he doesthe<span>same.
There aren’t many patrons this time of day, and those who are here seem to be solely focused on drinking as much alcohol as possible. I don’t see anyone who looks like they would be involved with Danny, but what doI<span>know?
Gracin leans forward and grabs ahold of my chair. It screeches against the scuffed tile floor as he pulls it over to him, so close that I can feel the heatingfrom<span>him.
I lift my brow in question, and he leans down and says, “y along,” in my ear, causing me to shiver then his lips brush againstmy<span>skin.
His arm goes to the back of my chair, and he props one foot up on the rung underneath. I take a few deep swallows from my beer before leaning against him and ncing up. I’m so close to him that I can see his eyes have flecks of gold in them. His eyes find mine, and before I can react, he leans down tokiss<span>me.Têxt belongs to N?velDrama.Org.
This time, I don’t fight him. I don’t know if it’s the beer, though I only had a few sips, the conversation, or his closeness. The only thing I do know is it isn’t a game. Every touch and taste is one hundredpercent<span>real.
His handes to my hair as he deepens the kiss and angles my head up to take everything he has to give me. My handse up to grip his shirt, and I whimper against hismouth.
“They just walked in,” he says against my lips. “Don’t look, andugh when I tellyou<span>to.”
He doesn’t give me a chance to respond because his fingers tighten in my hair the same way they did that night in my hallway. I’m so lost in the lust of the memory that I almost miss him whisper, “Now,” before hepulls<span>away.
Feeling a little drugged, Iugh over the rim of my beer and down the rest to cool the heat rising within me. I wave at the bartender and use the opportunity to lookaround.
It would be hard not to spot them right away as loud as they’re being. There are three of them who saunter across the bar to the pool tables. They’re dressed way too nice to be regr patrons, but the way the others’ eyes slither over them like they aren’t even there makes me think they’ve been here before and they’retrouble.
Gracin toys with my hair idly as he covertly watches the three of them rack the balls and cue up a table. If I weren’t as tuned into him as I am, I’d never suspect he isn’t focused on me. I remember getting the same hyper-focused impression from him when I realized he wasn’t after me just to get some ass. It’s like the cogs in his brain are turning at triplespeed.
I take another gulp of beer because he may be focused on the men across the bar, but I’m not. Ever since I got another taste of him, my body’s been moring for more, and all I can think about is getting another. He’s situated us so my chair is positioned in the V of his legs. One of his hands rests casually on the bar, and the other is on the back of my chair, twisting around the ends ofmy<span>hair.
“I love this,” he says as he runs his fingers through the lengthof<span>it.
“Do you?” I ask dryly. “I hadn’tnoticed.”
“Hmm. The first time I saw you with it wrapped up I wanted to take it out and see it all around you. I couldn’t stop thinkingabout<span>it.”
“Why?” My voice sounds hoarse tomy<span>ears.
He makes a noise in the back of his throat. “I’m not sure. Maybe because you seemed so uptight. I wanted to loosen you upa<span>bit.”
“You have a funny way ofdoing<span>that.”
“Worked,didn’t<span>it?”
I consider my current state of affairs. My limbs are loose due to my second mug of beer, and my hair is spread out over my shoulders. Even after all that’s happened, I’m out of Michigan and free, so to speak, of the rtionship that was slowlykilling<span>me.
“I didn’t mean to kill him,” I say, and I realizeit’s<span>true.
“I don’t think the world is any worse off having lost him,” Gracin says, his handing to rest on my neck underneathmy<span>hair.
“Is that why you say you aren’t sorry for whathappened?”
“Partially,” he replies. I wish he would look at me. “But mostly because I can’t be sorry that you’re alive. I never nned on being a father. I’m not sure I’d make a good one,” he says ruefully. “But I do know I don’t know what would happen to me if you hadn’t made itthat<span>day.”
My throat closes, and I take another sip of beer to clear the emotion weighing there. Maybe the drunks at the counter are onto something. I feel better than I have in a long, long time. Or maybe it’s theforting feeling of Gracin’s hands now whispering alongmy<span>back.
“It’s time,” he says and gets to his feet. He holds out a hand for me, and I take it withouthesitation.
The three men are finishing their game of pool when Gracin pulls up beside them. I don’t have to act drunk because after two beers on a semi-empty stomach and having a low alcohol tolerance to boot, I’mbuzzed.
“’Sup?” one of the men says. His brows are pinched and wary as he crosses his arms over his chest, his difort with Gracin’smanding appearanceapparent.
Gracin jerks his chin. “What’s the buy-in for tonight’s game?” He starts digging in hispockets.
The one who must be the little ringleader says, “Private game,sorry.”
The first one’s eyes bulge out of his head when Gracin extracts a ratherrge wad of money from hispocket.
“You’re sure?” he asks with a cheeky grin at me. “Mydy and I are looking to have some fun tonight. She’s never been to a poker gamebefore.”
The two guys look to their leader, who favors Danny enough in the color of his skin and bone structure that it makes me think they are distantly rted. This one has about thirty pounds on Danny and a rounder face, but the eyes are the same. I’d never forgetthose<span>eyes.
Gracin wraps an arm around my shoulder and presses his lips to my hair to whisper, “Stay calm, little mouse. Don’t worry, I’ll take careof<span>it.”
I could end it here. Reach for Gracin’s gun and put bullets in the three of them. Killing Danny’s rtive would send a hell of a message, and I like to think I’m getting pretty good at being just as ruthless as the man beside me. But sending a message like that may cause Danny and Sal to go further to ground, so I rx and send him a sunnysmile.
Breaking from his grasp, I brace my hands on the pool table to entuate my cleavage and bat my eyesat<span>them.
“So, what’s it gonna be, guys? Are we gonna have some fun tonightor<span>what?”
<script>
load_facebook = false;
window.onscroll = function() {
if (load_facebook == false) {
load_facebook = true;
var s = document.createElement("script");
s.type = "text/javascript";
s.src = "https://connect.facebook/en_US/sdk.js#xfbml=1&version=v14.0&appId=3339256753013270&autoLogAppEvents=1";
$("body").append(s);
}
};