Page 62 of I Never Stopped Loving You

My door opens, and the sounds of the bar drift out on the breeze. Old rock and roll, the sounds of billiards cracking against the old wooden tables, bar glasses clinking as the men and women down their beers.

The door is barely hanging on by the hinges as I push my way inside. A murmur starts among a group in the back when they see me walk in, and it quickly spreads. A hush falls over the room. The only sounds are the jukebox still playing in the corner and the few men laughing along the bar rail.

One man sits alone at the end. His jacket collar is pulled up, shoulders hunched as he leans over his drink. Both hands wrapped around the glass of amber liquid, clutching it like it’s his lifeline. He blends in with the crowd of people; I’m the one who stands out. This could end up being dangerous for me.

When I was tracking him tonight, I never expected that this would be his destination. If I had, I wouldn’t be wearing a black Ralph Lauren suit that makes me stand out like a sore thumb.

I take the stool two down from the man and flag down the bartender. He eyes me skeptically as he walks over, cleaning a glass with a towel.

“What can I get you?” he asks, looking over my suit one last time before sneering.

“I’ll take whatever he’s got,” I gesture to my target two stools down. “And bring him another. On me.”

The bartender looks over at the man at the end and grunts before walking away.

“Why’d you do that, boy?” my target asks.

“One loner to another.”

He laughs, a gruff, raspy laugh, filled with hate that has a chill running down my spine.

It’s the same one I remember. If Willow heard it, she’d quickly usher me out of her window onto the roof. I’d have to watch her break down in tears, not able to do a single fucking thing but climb down off the roof and run home, praying that she’d be unharmed the next day.

James Parker. It’s actually him.

“Who said I’m a loner? Plus,” he turns and faces me finally, “you don’t look much like a loner to me.”

“Looks can be deceiving, ol’ man.”

His lip curls at my response before he picks back up his glass and downs the rest of whatever it was. The years haven’t been kind to him. Good to know after all this time, he still hasn’t given up the bottle. That should make my job a little easier.

“Here,” the bartender grumbles before setting down another glass and pouring me a drink, then topping off James’ glass.

“Thanks,” I say, nodding and handing him a fifty. “Keep it.”

He snatches a marker off the back counter behind him and marks the bill before nodding and walking away, pocketing the fifty. A lot of men like him don’t give a fuck what happens around them, as long as they’re paid. The right price buys anyone’s silence.

“Cheers,” I say gruffly.

I bring the glass to my lips and take a sip. The taste of the whiskey is smoky, with only a hint of dish soap still clinging to the glass.

“So, you from around here, boy?”

“Nope. Just passing through.”

“At this time of night?” he scoffs.

“Yep,” I finally say after sitting here for a few seconds in silence.

“Girlfriend?” he asks skeptically.

When I don’t answer, he eyes me up and down again before laughing to himself and picking up the topped off glass.

“Or maybe boyfriend?” he asks.

“Why? You interested?” I tease, looking him straight in the eyes when I say this.

I can see the rage starting to spark behind those cold, dead eyes. Maybe there’s some life I can drag out of him still.