16. Riggs #2
Killian stood by the front and spoke to the barmaid.
Monica? Michelle? If his memory didn’t fail him he may have remembered her name.
Riggs had slept with her a handful of times, until one night, she got crazy and begged to have his children.
Said she liked his smile, and his teeth.
Women will say anything for that good baby gravy.
He didn’t miss the wink she just threw at him either, but he averted his gaze and pretended he didn’t see her.
“Riggs Whitlock, you are a sight to behold,” Brodie said, smiling from behind the bar.
“Brodie! It’s been too long.” Riggs slapped his hand on the countertop as he took a seat on the warm, wooden bar stool. “How is the prisoner downstairs?” Sliding his hand into his pocket, he grabbed the vials. “Oh, and some ice, please?”
Brodie laughed, brushing his curly hair back. “Which one?” He turned, reaching for a bowl and filling it with ice. “For you.”
Riggs nodded his thanks, placing the vials in the bronze ceramic to chill. He grinned. “The newest and latest, Conwell.”
“Ah! That one.” Brodie reached for a bottle of rum and shrugged, rubbing the side of his freckled face. “Yeah, he’s good, I suppose. Why do you ask?” He set a shot glass down in front of Riggs, pouring the amber liquid without asking. Brodie hit the bar top and said, “On me.”
Riggs threw the shot back and grimaced from the bitterness.
“Thanks. We need to question him because…he knows something about something,” Riggs said cautiously, blowing out a breath.
He didn’t want to flat-out say why, just in case.
He trusted Brodie, but Killian was wary about information leaking into the wrong hands, and Riggs knew better.
There were too many people surrounding him.
Brodie quirked his brow. “Something about something, eh?”
“Brodie!” Killian shouted, a wide smile growing across his tired face.
“Killian!” Brodie’s face lit up.
Brodie ran around the bar and embraced Killian with a hug. Killian always seemed to dwarf him, even though Brodie was nearly as tall. Not only was Brodie the man hiring them for bounties, but he was also Killian’s best friend—Killian’s only friend.
Riggs gripped the empty glass, already mourning it. Tears lined his eyes, the wooden walls a watery blur. He’d had a best friend once.
“Man, we need to catch up.” Brodie grinned, walking back behind the bar.
Killian’s eyes beamed with happiness. “You wouldn’t believe what happened!”
Brodie rested his hands on the bar top, snickering under his breath. “Lay it on me.”
Riggs tuned out their conversation as the tavern door opened. A petite woman with a hooded cloak walked in, hiding her identity. He swallowed hard. Her presence drew him in like a spell. He watched her from the corner of his eye as she slid into the seat next to him.
“What can I get you, sweetheart?” Brodie asked, his green eyes beaming as he slid her the bill of fare.
“Water is fine,” she said softly, keeping her head down.
Riggs knitted his brows. Who orders water at a bar?
“Brodie, put it on my tab,” Riggs said, tapping the wooden top in a beat he knew was annoying, hoping she would look his way.
She didn’t.
Brodie set the glass down in front of her and chuckled. “I wasn’t going to charge her, but if you insist.”
Riggs shook his head. Motherfucker.
Riggs watched her delicate, moon-white fingers wrap around the glass, his eyes trailing up her body and stopping when he noticed Eddie’s emblem on her hood. Two red swords crossing. His brows rose. This girl must be a local. Outsiders typically avoided his shop, unless they had magic.
Riggs rested his arms on the bar top and leaned closer. “Sorry to pry, but I noticed your cloak. Is that from Eddie’s shop?” He surveyed her hands bunch into tight fists.
“I… I don’t know,” she said softly, keeping her head down. Riggs could hardly hear her with the lingering chatter, and the distant shouting from the idiots playing card games in the back.
Riggs cleared his throat. “That’s where I get my boots from. Eddie has some good stuff in there.”
The woman turned, staring at his boots, still keeping her head down. “I’ll have to get some.”
Riggs wished she’d look at him. He glanced at her feet, his brows shooting up in his hairline. She’s barefoot. He swallowed hard. Is she homeless? “This place has some great food, if you’re hungry.” He waited for her to glance at him, but she didn’t budge.
“It smells delicious in here,” she said, sipping her water. “I don’t have any money.”
Yup, a beggar. Riggs glimpsed her rosy lips around the crystal glass as she drank. “What you are smelling is Aldmoor’s famous roasted beef,” he declared, throwing his arms wide and smiling proudly. “Let me order you a sandwich.”
“Oh, I don’t eat meat,” she said, meeting his gaze.
“Oh, you’re a vegetaria—” The breath escaped his lungs.
Her eyes.
He knew those eyes.
Stared into those beautiful, brown eyes for as long as time allowed. Riggs' breath hitched, “Esemeray.” It was as if the wind had carried her here—blown her into this very tavern. Somehow, it all still felt inevitable, like a prayer answered.
“Hi,” she whispered. A small, sad smile formed across her delicate face.
Even though the lighting was dim, there was no hiding her puffy, red eyes and poor attempt at a smile.
He swallowed the lump in his throat. “How did you get here? Were you followed? Are you hurt?” he whispered low enough that no one would hear him.
Maybe she’s hiding from someone. Explains the cloak. Eddie tends to attract people in need.
Esemeray chewed on her lip, then said, “I… It’s hard to explain.”
“Do you want to go somewhere more private?” Riggs felt weird asking, usually that question was reserved for women he would take home and fuck, but this was a different situation. This was Esemeray. She wasn’t just anyone—she was a princess.
Esemeray nodded.
Riggs' mouth curled upward. “Follow me.”