Page 18 of Outfoxed

“You don’t have to hit anyone. A poet had his way with him. It was rather ugly.”

My brows shot up. “A poet?” It took me a moment to remember the more destructive of mages used poetry to make their magic work. “There was an evocation mage here?”

“Sure was. Not sure where he’s from, but he’s a mix, and he meant business. This fella went after Lora and scared her something fierce, which was when the mage took offense, saying no man had any business treating the girl like that. The bastard who bothered Lora is short a hand now, and the mage was nice enough to cauterize the wound, so he should live to tell the tale.”

Nobody survived in the Alley long short a hand, and if infection didn’t get him, the lack of work, the storms, or word about how he lost his hand would. It never failed to amaze me how odd people could be.

Folks were all right with selling men and women into slavery but going after young girls got people ready to wage war for the sake of their morals. One day, I might understand life. On second thought, I didn’t want to understand why it was all right to turn people into slaves but it wasn’t all right to hurt a girl.

I wouldn’t worry about the poet. Worrying wouldn’t do me any good. Just about everyone in Tulsa was either a mix of some sort or an immigrant, which added to my exotic tally, as I’d been born and bred to look as American as absolutely possible.

While I wouldn’t worry about the poet, the bastard who went after Lora concerned me. “What did this creep do to Lora?”

“He tried to drag her off.” My boss’s expression turned flinty. “I’ve given everyone sticks like yours, and don’t you be shy about standing up for the other girls, Jade. They’re not as direct as you are, and I’ve a mind to bump your pay for keeping an eye on the others. Expect your tips to drop because of the incident, though. Some of the men aren’t happy right now.”

Of course they weren’t. Uppity women annoyed entitled men. “I’ll keep an eye out, Brent. Need me to go have a talk with Lora?”

“If she’s not down in an hour, please. Take her with you to your second job, would ya? I think that’ll be the best thing, and I’ll pay for her classes, since it’s my fault I didn’t put a stop to it before it escalated.”

Sometimes, I questioned why I worked at McCoy’s, but then Brent went and reminded me there were some good men left in the world, and sometimes, they were old, grouchy bartenders with a prized liquor license. “You got it. I’ll make sure Batbayar gets her started on self-defense courses. Once he finds out about the courtesan issue and the attempted assault, he’ll take her on the house.”

“I’ll pay for her classes. Having someone else useful with a stick would be good around here.”

I relaxed at my boss’s generosity, a rare deal with him. He could be rough around the edges, but when he gave his word, especially about money, he meant it. “Safer, too.”

“Safety’s rare in Tulsa, but she’ll be as safe as I can make her.”

I checked my watch, which informed me I was late to start working, not that Brent would penalize me for starting late when he was the one doing the yapping. “I’ve gotta get to work, or the others will want to crucify me for not sharing the load. If she’s not down in an hour, I’ll take a break and talk to her.”

“You do that, and I’ll cover you while you’re up with her. If you have to go up, I don’t think it’ll be something you’ll fix in a few minutes.”

Trauma couldn’t be fixed with a wave of my hand, but I had a few ideas about how to get Lora on the move. Rather than tell Brent I could motivate the younger woman, I grabbed a tray and joined the fray.

As warned, Tom Harlan locked on the instant I went to work. He strolled over, his swaying the only warning I needed that the bastard had consumed two or three drinks too many. “You should apply, bitch. Those little breasts and your sweet hips are only good for breeding. I bet you’ll go for a pretty penny on auction. Not many pure white girls around anymore. Pity you’re just a fox, but you’re a damned fine fox.”

Well, then. If Tom Harlan wanted to make an ass out of himself, I’d leave his drunk ass on the floor. The entire bar fell silent. I began my retaliation with a thorough visual inspection of my non-existent breasts. I raised a brow. “You’ve been hitting the hard stuff again, Tom. If you judge from my breasts, or the lack thereof, I’m a pretty foxy man who works at a bar.”

“A few babies will plump those up for you. It’s all you sluts are good for anyway.”

I contemplated if I wanted to break his face or his kneecaps first. Before I could reach for my billy club and make what the poet did look merciful in comparison, my boss shoved me aside, stepped in front of me, and went for Tom’s throat. Lifting the man off his feet, my boss growled a wordless warning. My brows shot up at Brent’s display of violence and intimidation.

Corn farmers didn’t have a whole lot of magic worth talking about in Tulsa, as nobody could work the fields with any expectation of survival nowadays. I’d forgotten their magic came with one benefit few thought about: brute strength.

“Now you listen here, Tom. You talk to one of my ladies like that again in my bar, and you’re leaving without your balls and your dick will be half its current length. When you go crying to the cops, I’ll hand over your removed parts served on ice after I’ve dropped them in acid so they’re nice and blistered. I never want to see your face in my establishment again, not unless you man up and apologize to every lady you’ve slandered this morning.” My boss dropped Tom, and the old lecher landed on his ass with a grunt. “What will it be? No, wait. Before you answer that. Ladies? Hands up if Tom’s gone and mouthed off at you this morning. If he ever wants another sip of my liquor, he’s gonna say something nice to each of you.”

Every woman in the bar raised her hand, and as I wasn’t against adding to Tom’s misery, I raised mine, too.

The bastard would come after me for revenge for being the one to trigger the landslide, but I was woman enough to handle anything the old goat could toss my way. Bounty hunters worried me a lot more than his ilk.

Men like Tom were all talk.

“Line up, ladies. Tom, you can start with Jade, and should you even think about being snide to any of them, you’ll be singing soprano for the rest of your life. Maybe I’ll dump what’s left of your acid-doused balls in a bottle of my best Scotch and put it on the top shelf as a reminder about what won’t happen in my establishment again.”

Maybe my tips would suck for the day, but some things were priceless, and I’d treasure the memory of Tom Harlan swallowing his pride for the sake of his balls for years to come.

Four

On days like today, I considered returning to the East.