Chapter 7 #2
Billy waved a finger at her. Brynn grabbed her bag and sauntered toward the ladies’ room, and right by the table where the younger Norcross was sitting, tucked out of sight.
She paused. “Well, hello there.” Anyone looking over would see her flirtatious smile and body language.
Only Rhys would see the angry glitter in her eyes.
He shot her a smile that made her breath catch. He was gorgeous, and he knew it. The strong jaw, and the thick hair that begged for a woman to run her hands through it. Yep, he had the Norcross good looks, through and through.
Funny, she wasn’t anywhere near as attracted to him, as she was to the dark, lethal edge of his brother.
“What the hell would Rhys Norcross be doing here?” she asked, her voice dropping.
His smile widened. “You must be Brynn.” His gaze dipped to her body, but to his credit, returned quickly to her face. “We heard a deal might be going down.”
“And your brother asked you to drop by?”
“Maybe. Maybe I just wanted a burger.”
“He asked you to keep an eye on me.”
“Maybe.” Rhys gave her another rock-star smile. “It’s no hardship.”
Brynn leaned closer, her seductive body language deceptive. “Tell your brother that I don’t need a babysitter. And if you scare off the players, I’ll slap you in cuffs so fast your head will spin.”
His smile didn’t dim. “Kinky.”
She rolled her eyes. She straightened, shot him a saucy look, then sailed into the ladies’ room.
When she came back out, she cruised by the bar.
“Bud,” she told the bartender.
Jankowski swiveled on his stool. “Baby, where have you been all my life?” He eyed her chest with obvious interest.
A laugh welled up. She leaned in. “Cops always have the worst pickup lines.” She snagged her fresh beer that she wasn’t planning to drink, and sashayed away.
Back at the pool table with Billy, she sensed Rhys watching her. She was chalking her cue when Trucker walked in.
He spotted her and frowned.
“Bry, what are you doing here?”
“Hey, Trucker.” She shot the cue a look, then nodded over at her pool partner. “I’m cleaning out Billy’s pockets.”
“She’s good,” Billy said.
“I like this place.” She cocked her head. “You?”
“Having a beer. Meeting some people.” He gave her a chin lift, then was gone.
As she played, she surreptitiously watched Trucker take a booth. He got an order of chicken wings and a beer.
Where was the dealer and this new contact?
Impatience rode her hard. Come on. Come on.
She tried to focus on her game. She was leaning over the table, when she sensed a presence behind her.
“Hey, there.” A hand landed on her ass.
Brynn swiveled.
The guy was big and burly, with a bushy beard, and glassy eyes that said he’d had a few too many beers. A red, plaid shirt stretched over his wide shoulders.
“Hands off, big guy,” she warned.
“But this sweet ass is begging for attention.”
Ugh . She smiled sweetly. “Touch me again and you’ll regret it.”
“Oh yeah?” He puffed his chest up.
Brynn changed her grip on the pool cue. “Yeah.”
Beyond the guy, she noted that someone else was sliding into the booth with Trucker. She could only see the back of his head. From here it didn’t look like Nomad or Bender, but she couldn’t be sure.
Dammit, this idiot would ruin her chance.
“Off you go,” she said.
The big guy took a step toward her.
Rhys materialized by the pool table. He didn’t say anything, just leaned against the table and kept his gaze on the mountain man.
“That your pretty boy?” the man asked.
“No, but I’m sure he could wipe the floor with you, asshole.” She sniffed. “Not that I need help. I can do it myself.”
“Ah, no need to fight. Give me a little taste and I’ll—”
He stepped closer and she sensed Rhys tensing.
But Brynn whipped the pool cue up and caught Paul Bunyan under the chin. His head snapped back, and he grunted.
She spun the stick and hit him in the face.
Now, he howled.
“Are you done?” she asked.
He roared. “I’ll kill you!”
She sighed. “Not done.”
Mountain man moved, but Brynn wielded the cue like a bo staff. Two solid whacks with her makeshift staff and he bent over, groaning. Her next smack to the back broke the cue, but he went down.
Low male laughter filled the air.
She looked at Rhys.
“Remind me not to piss you off, Xena, Warrior Princess.”
She glanced around and saw everyone in the bar watching her.
Except Trucker and the man with him.
They were arguing, and there was no sign of the third guest.
Damn .
Abruptly, the man with Trucker stood, and yanked a gun from under his jacket.
Brynn’s chest locked. Fuck .
He shot Trucker.
Screams and cries broke out in the bar. Brynn ripped her weapon out of her satchel, and heard Rhys curse. He was beside her in a split second, Glock in hand.
The man faced the bar, the gun swiveling. Brynn didn’t recognize the hard, craggy face. He wasn’t one of the new bikers.
“Get down!” she yelled.
The man opened fire.
More shouts and screams, glass breaking. Rhys yanked her down behind the pool table.
“Stop! Police!” Jankowski’s voice.
Brynn peered up. The detective had his weapon aimed at the gunman.
“Lower your weapon and—”
Quick as lightning, the gunman swiveled and fired at Jankowski.
No!
Adrenaline pumping, Brynn popped up. A bullet whizzed past her and she fired. The gunman flew back.
“Norcross!” she yelled.
“I’m on him.” Rhys started toward the gunman.
Brynn leaped over a fallen stool. There was no sign of Jankowski.
Then, she spotted him lying flat on his back on the dirty, wooden floor. Blood bloomed on his shirt.
“No. No .” She dropped to her knees beside him. “Call 9-1-1,” she yelled at the bartender.
The man nodded. “Already did.”
“I need a cloth or a towel. Now!”
In seconds, she was pressing a towel against Jankowski’s chest.
“Stay with me, Mike.” He didn’t make a sound. His eyes were open, but they were cloudy and filled with pain.
She looked over and saw Rhys had Trucker flat on the floor, as well.
“Rhys?”
“He’s alive. Barely. The bullet hit his neck.”
“The shooter?”
“Dead. You shot him in the heart.”
Her stomach rolled. She’d think about that later.
Blood oozed between her fingers. Jankowski’s blood.
“Hold on, Mike.”
Then she heard the wail of sirens.