AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Nope, never heard of ’im.” He busts out laughing uncontrollably.
“Wait. Don’t you me— Ow!” His friend reaches below the table, most likely to rub the shin where his buddy kicked him. “What the fuck, Randy?!”
I grit my teeth so hard my molars start to ache, and my fingers twitch yet again with the urge to reach for my Glock.
I’m about to walk away and just take a seat at the bar, because if anybody deserves a goddamn drink, it’s me.
Just as I turn, the fuckwit, Randy, who finally finished laughing at my question, pipes up. The lighting in this place might be dim, but I swear they highlight his disgusting-as-hell teeth. “You might wanna ask Little Miss Freak up at the bar there.”
I narrow my gaze on him. “’Scuse me?”
His buddy grins up from his seat, giving me a better look at his own Nicotine-yellowed teeth. He tips his head to where the woman sits at the far end of the bar. “Ain’t much to look at, but she might can help you out.”
Ain’t much to look at? The fuck? I give the woman I’d noticed earlier more than just a cursory look.
Long hair that’s a unique shade of silver falls past her shoulders. She doesn’t flaunt her body, that much is obvious judging by the plain navy-blue T-shirt tucked into a pair of jeans. Her clothing is snug in all the right places, showing the slight flare of her hips and curve of her waist.
My attention snags on her no-nonsense black boots—steel-toed, if I’m not mistaken—that make me wonder what kind of work she does. And why the hell she’d choose this bar and to be surrounded by a bunch of drunken bastards.
When she shifts slightly, tipping her head back as she drinks, her hair shifts, and— Holy fuck. She has the smoothest-looking skin along sharp cheekbones, a straight nose, and lips that can’t be classified as anything other than sensual. Ain’t much to look at? These assholes need their damn vision checked, because she’s beautiful.
“Whaddya want with Mac, anyway?” Randy frowns as he studies me. “You a Fed or something?”
I pin him with a cool glare. “Thought you said you didn’t know a guy named Mac.”
Beer sloshes over the rim as the other yellowed-teeth dipshit gestures at me with his beer. “Dressed like that, he’s gotta be a Fed.”
“Or one of those Mexican cartel dudes. I know, ’cause I seen that movie Sicario.” Randy scans me from head to toe with his glassy, drunken gaze. “Looks like one of ’em to me. Sounds like one, too.”
“Nah, my bet’s that he’s a Fed.”
For fuck’s sake. “Thanks for your help, gentlemen.”
Of course, my sarcasm is lost on them.
“Sure thing. Just don’t go flashin’ your badge around here.” Randy’s asshole friend cackles as I walk away. “Might make some of ’em mighty nervous.”
“If he’s undercover, he prolly don’t got a badge,” Randy offers. “Still say he’s gotta be with a cartel.”
I grit my teeth yet again, and at this rate, I won’t have molars left once I escape this goddamn place.
Venturing toward the bar, I continue surveying my surroundings casually. I never let my guard down—can’t afford to—especially when it’s in unfamiliar territory like this.
I draw to a stop by the stool to the woman’s right. “Mind if I sit here?”
“Suit yourself.” She doesn’t turn my way, giving me her profile. Damn if she isn’t every bit of gorgeous up close as she is from a distance.
I slide onto the barstool and prop my forearm on the bar top. Big mistake.
“Yeah…” Her voice holds a trace of amusement. “Benny’s not exactly the best at cleaning up around here.”
I internally cuss at myself for rolling up my sleeves like I did. Because she’s not kidding. My skin pulls as I lift my arm from the sticky wooden surface.
Jesus. This place is nasty as fuck.
“But he’s the friendliest damn bartender around,” she tacks on as the brawny older man refills her glass. He doesn’t even acknowledge her compliment, his permafrown adding further contradiction to her claim.
Accepting the refill with a quick thanks, she lifts the glass in mock salute at the bartender. “Seems you missed a spot in your spring cleaning, Benny.”
