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The drive to town wasn’t long. Draven pulled his pickup truck into a parking spot at the back of the lot. His truck had been purchased brand-new, and he’d be damned if some fucking drunk knocked it because they couldn’t hold their liquor. He killed the engine and stepped out of his vehicle. There were already a ton of cars parked in the lot which led him to believe that he was right in arriving at this time.
He slid his keys in his jeans pocket and headed toward the bar. A few people lingered outside the building. He ignored them and swung open the door. The aroma of good food and cigarettes greeted him. The bouncer, Ted, stood near the door. He tippedhis chin to Draven who returned the move. Draven continued on toward the bar. He bit back a grimace at how many people were already in the place.
He quickly scanned the establishment, having already memorized every exit. He took in a few men who looked as if they would be giving Ted and his crew trouble tonight. Old habits died hard. It had been Draven’s job for years to notice the littlest of details. That had saved his and his battalion’s life more than once.
His gaze drifted toward the stage where the band was setting up. He didn’t see the lead singer around. He tore his eyes away and focused on his destination. He arrived at the bar and glared at a few young punks standing near his favorite seat. They appeared to be college brats who barely had enough fuzz on their faces. They fell into a fit of laughter, and Draven grew even more irritated.
“Move,” he growled.
The two facing Draven froze in place. Their eyes widened as they took him in. The one nearest him whose back was to him spun around.
“Who the fuck—” His words died as he found himself looking at Draven’s chest. He paused and slowly tilted his head back to meet Draven’s eyes.He took a step back and jerked his head in a nod. “Yes, sir. Didn’t mean to be in your way, sir.”
The three of them immediately hightailed it away from the bar and disappeared in the crowd. Draven shook his head and plopped down in his chair. The other patrons around the bar were regulars. He nodded to them. He glanced up, and it warmed his heart to find the television already on the football game.
“I was wondering if you were going to show up.” Danny chuckled. The older bartender slid an empty glass across the counter. He already had Draven’s favorite bourbon in his hand. He poured a hefty amount and tipped his head to Draven.
Draven had known Danny almost his whole life. The bartender had gone to high school with Andy. His gray hair was kept cut close to his head, and the thick mustache was a legend.
“Appreciate this,” Draven murmured. He lifted the glass and took his first sip. Now this was what he needed after a long day on the ranch. There was nothing like a good bourbon, and Danny always ensured he stocked the best.
“Well, I’m glad you came on over. Those kids get on my damn nerves, wanting the latest drinksthey saw on social media. Who the hell do they think I am?” Danny snorted.
Draven rolled his eyes. He didn’t know how Danny tolerated the younger crowd. His eyes gravitated toward the screen. As much as he liked conversing with Danny, he enjoyed watching football even more.
“You want your usual for supper?” Danny asked, pushing away from the counter.
“Yes, sir.” Draven tilted his glass to Danny, unable to take his eyes off the television. The game was just getting started. He settled in and became engrossed. His concentration was broken by the small roar from the crowd behind him, then music filled the air. Whistles and clapping followed quickly. The partiers sounded as if they were ready to get down tonight.
“How are y’all doing tonight?” A husky voice floated through the speakers.
Draven stiffened as the siren’s voice washed over him. He wanted to close his eyes and just soak up the sound of her voice. A few women screamed back their responses, then laughter followed. Draven refused to turn around. As much as he wanted to see her, he managed to sit still. Her angelic voice begansinging an upbeat song. From the sounds of stomping and footsteps, people were already on the dance floor. People loved her and the band. Each Friday night the place was packed for their performance.
A figure sidled up next to Draven and waved Danny over. Draven set his empty glass down and looked at the newcomer invading his space. He hated when people got close to him. Didn’t they know they shouldn’t sneak up on a soldier—former soldier?
Draven was trained in the deadliest of combat and could seriously hurt someone. That was his gift from the Marines. The intense training he had undergone had left him a killing machine. He blinked a few times, trying hard to not fall down into memory lane. He unclenched his hand that had somehow balled into a fist.
Tom Cook, a sheep farmer who’s land was on the other side of town, met his gaze. Draven relaxed slightly. The farmer was not a threat. He did a quick perusal of the area and found everyone at the bar focused on the televisions. Draven pushed down the urge to shake Tom’s hand off him.
“Danny, put Draven’s next drink on my tab,” Tom said. He slapped Draven on the shoulder. The farmer’s son had graduated a few years afterDraven. His son, Mark, had entered the Army and returned home after his first tour with one less leg.
“There’s no need, Tom,” Draven said.
Tom shook his head. “I don’t want to hear it.”
Danny came over and filled Draven’s glass again.
“You sacrificed so much so that we can sleep in our beds at night safely,” Tom said. “I’ll buy you a damn drink if I want to.”
“Many thanks.” Draven’s voice was gruff.
Tom patted him on the shoulder one last time before moving away. Draven hated the attention of the town. No one had to thank him for going to serve his country. It had been his decision. He lifted the glass and knocked it back. Fire burned his esophagus as the drink made its way down. He bit back a curse and turned around to get one glance at the stage. The siren’s voice was calling to him. He’d get one quick look at her, then he’d turn around and get back to the game.
Chapter Two
Cashea Moss loved how people connected with her as she sang. She swung her hips around as she turned and faced Sara who was playing the hell out of her violin. It was Friday night, and the Hen House was crowded. The town always showed up when it was Friday. The dance floor was packed, and people were singing along with her.
Cashea liked to think it was to enjoy her and the girls. Their band, Haven’s Chicks, was made up of a few locals who loved music as much as Cashea did. They were a cover band and damn good at it. They didn’t write or perform any original music. This was a fun gig for all of them. Cashea and her bandmateshad real jobs they worked during the week. They found time to get together to practice before performing on Friday and Saturday nights.
