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The bartender lined up two shot glasses and poured a generous amount into each. He placed one in front of Seth and the other in front of the man sitting at his side. Poor shmuck. Had that long face look. The kind a man had after a woman took him for a ride.
Not Seth. He was too smart for women who thought they could get their hooks into him. Nodding a thank you to the bartender, he picked up the glass and swallowed the contents with a quick toss of his head, then relished the burn in his gut.
He turned his attention to the crowd filtering into the bar. He thought back to other Saturday nights, long ago, when he’d sneak out of the house to follow his brother. If their dad had caught either one of them, there would have been hell to pay.
His brother had caught him once and that was the end of that. He’d preached a sermon about how Seth should follow the rules, but never paid any attention to them himself. Trouble trailed Shawn like the whirl of a tornado. Seth often wondered if Shawn had carried a demon on his shoulder. Pushing him. Driving him. Seth hadn’t seen his brother in years. If Shawn had lived, if they met today, would he be as crazy as he’d been back then? Would he raise as much hell now as he had at seventeen?
Didn’t matter anymore. Besides, Shawn hadn’t been crazy. He’d just liked to let loose. Anything was fair game. Shawn had managed to make it in the big corporate world, but Seth doubted his brother would have changed. Shawn always did what he wanted. Took what he wanted.
Until the day a cocksucker put a blade in him.
Shawn would never have been in that hellhole if it weren’t for that rat bastard.
Seth’s grief fueled his anger.
Revenge.
It would be sweet.
With a circle of his finger, he signaled the bartender for another round.
Chapter 17
A low rumble sounded outside Cassie’s condo. She peeked out the front window and caught her breath. A shiny, black, convertible Mustang roared into a parking space. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from what was obviously a collector’s car. A 1969, if she had her guess.
She watched Mike’s large frame as he crawled from the low car, thinking of the major difference between it and his big four-wheel-drive truck. He pulled his phone from his pocket.
Cassie ran to the bathroom to check her appearance and her cell phone rang. Retracing her steps, she grabbed it and gave an out-of-breath hello.
“Hi yourself. Are you ready? I don’t want to leave my car unattended for long.”
“What year is it?”
“You see me?”
“I heard you first.” His laugh sizzled her insides. “Give me two minutes.” She ended the call before he could say another word. She gathered her hair up in a ponytail, snatched her purse, made sure she had her keys, and slammed the door behind her.
Mike leaned against the rear fender, a big smile and a pair of sunglass on his face.
“Hello, beautiful.”
“Hello, handsome. Think I can catch a ride?”
“Your wish is my command.”
He opened the passenger door and waited for her to get inside. While he sauntered to the driver’s door, Cassie ran her fingers over the smooth, red leather interior.
“It’s beautiful, Mike.”
“1969,” he said, and she realized he’d answered the question she’d asked on the phone.
“428 or 390?”
“You know cars?”
“I know Mustangs. A sixty-nine fastback is my favorite body style.”
