Reese (2 page)

             
“Course top shelf.”

             
I popped the top on his beer and lined up two shot glasses before pouring out some nasty tequila that had just as much bite as it did bark to it. I waited long enough for him to down the first, saw that even he had a hard time taking the bite of the Tarantula and moved on to the next paying customer. Bubba had a running account and I had already added his drinks to the tally.

             
Half an hour later I was mixing margaritas for
two
college girls out on the town looking for something from the dark side.
They looked like trust fund babies, with their wide eye gazes at all the bikers, Emo and Goths. They wore expensive clothes, their hair was almost beauty pageant worthy and their heels gave them at least three extra inches in height.
I rolled my eyes as they gave my makeup a disdainful look and accidently on purpo
se spilt a little on one of their
tight tube top
s
. “Hey!” She protested.

             
I gave her a
hard
look. “Swallow your drinks and then get going. You don’t want to mess with the things that lurk in the corners here, pretty girls.”

             
They didn’t heed my warning, of course. And I hadn’t expected them to. Not really. Which was why when two monstrous bikers that w
h
ere new to the bar tried to take the college girls for a little ride
,
I was a little slower in reacting
wanting to teach them a lesson or three
.
I watched as the girl I had spilt margarita on tried to pull out of the
burly biker’s
hold and the other girl looked sick as she was being pulled toward the exit.

             
I shot the bouncer
s
in back a look that said I had it handled and jumped over the bar. I
cut
the four
off
at the front door. As I met the gazes of the girls I knew that they were regretting not taking my earlier warning seriously. But they looked just as skeptical of my ability to handle the situation as the two bikers.

             
“Move out of the way, Goth.” Biker One commanded
, making ‘Goth’ sound insulting
. He had a horrible scar going from the bridge of his nose to the edge of his jaw. His teeth were yellow from years of too much tobacco and not enough toothpaste. He stood a good six inches taller than me even in my own three inch heeled biker boots. Probably out-weighed me a good two hundred pounds too.

             
“You may go. But the girls stay.” I told him, my tone cool as always.

             
“Says who?” Biker Two questioned sounding more amused than concerned. “I don’t see anyone here who could stop us.” His smile was considerably whiter than Biker One, but there was a chip in his front tooth. Like his friend he
out-
weighed me, but his height was not that of the first biker.

             
“I say.” I told him. “And I
will
stop you.”

             
Biker One shoved the pretty college girl away. Some of the bikers didn’t care if they hurt a woman or no
t, while others would tear a man a new one for even looking mean at a
female
. But I wasn’t intimidated by him or his friend who stepped closer to me. His whisky scented breath made me want to gag but I controlled the reflex. “How you going to stop us, Goth?” He sneered. “Going to cast a spell? Maybe do a little voodoo on us?”

             
“Try to leave with the girls and you will find out.” I blew in his face, knowing that it would piss him off. Knowing that I would just be asking for them to hurt me. Or at least attempt it.

The bar had grown quiet. Even the music had been turned down as people watched me, a five feet eight inches, one hundred five pound Goth
girl
confront
ing
two drunken bikers. The regulars were taking bets. The newcomers were anxious. The men, those that had a decent bone in their bodies were tensed to come to my rescue. The ones that didn’t have any such decency were giddy with the threat of a fight.

Movement out of the corner of my eye alerted me to someone approaching but I shot the man a glare to hold his ground without taking much of him in. If he was coming to assis
t the little woman, I had this,
my look told him. If he was coming to assist the bikers my look told him he really didn’t want to have anything to do with what was about to go down.

             
Biker One got in my face right beside of his buddy
and I turned my glare back to him
. They crowded my space and I gritted my te
eth. I could not stand to have any
one so close to me. And now there were two
invading my personal space. My
hands
dropped to my sides.

             
“Maybe we should ditch the blonds and take you instead.” Biker
One said. “You look like a chick
who could use a good-“

             
He didn’t get to complete his sentence. I had my
baton
in hand
and with a flick of my wrist
the
steel extended
. I swung and connected with Biker One’s left knee. He screamed and went down. Biker Two roared with his rage, but before his beefy fist could connect with my face my baton connected with his forearm. I felt the bone snap more than heard it and it made my skin crawl. But I pushed the feeling down as I turned back to Biker One who had made it to his feet. He limped toward me once, his fists swinging. Baton still in hand I kicked him in the chest
with my spiked heel biker boots
, sending him back to the floor.

             
The whole incide
nt lasted less than
two
minute
s
. I retracted the extendable steel baton
and sheathed it in its case strapped to my thigh. Biker Two was screaming about his arm and Biker One was still winded from the kick I had given his sternum. As I passed him I kicked his side for good measure before crouching down beside of the fallen biker. “Now. Are you going to leave with the girls?”

             
He muttered a curse and I
punched him in the face. His nose
instantly began
bleeding. “I’m sorry
.
I couldn’t
quite
hear you. What was that again?”

             
“No!” He screamed at me, his hand holding his gushing nose.
Spittle and blood sprayed as he spoke again.
“No you bitch. NO!”

             
“And do you still want to leave with me?”
My tone was bored, just as I was with the entire situation.

             
“NO!” He shouted.

             
“That Goth bitch broke my arm.” Biker Two was mumbling to himself. “She broke it.”
I doubt that he had ever been more surprised in his life.

             
“Pick your ass up and get out. I’m sure your friend needs a doctor.” I straightened and turned a glare on the quiet room. “Any more takers?” I challenged the room at large. “No? Then go back to your good time. Entertainment
’
s over.”
The music was turned back up, and people returned to their own business. Money was exchanged between some of the regulars who had won their bet.

             
After making sure the two
shaken
girls got into a cab safely outside
I returned to my place behind the bar and set another beer in front of Bubba before he could ask. He was grinning at me, probably happy that it had been someone other than himself on the other end of my beating. I gave him a wink but otherwise ignored him as I returned to my
other
customers
seated at the bar
.

             
As I put two Boiler Makers in front of a guy and his
dominatrix
date I noticed a man seated at the end of the bar. Bubba had just vacated his seat, leaving me a nice tip and I snatched it up to put in my tip jar before turning my attention to the new comer.

             
He was the guy who had attempted to approach me while I had been dealing with Biker One and Biker Two.
I gave him a good once over taking in his short dark blond hair, those unusual steel gr
a
y eyes
and the scar over his right eye
brow. He had nice lips, and an even white smile I noticed when he
grinned
at me. That smile made something deep inside twitch, as if a dead muscle was trying to jump start back to life.

             
I ignored the feeling as I took in the rest of him. He wore a sleeveless tee shirt and jeans that I was probably the only one aware
of being
designer. But his arms were sleeved with tattoos that I had to admire. Skulls, tribal symbols, and even a Celtic Knot were among the many tats
that were so at odds with each other, but fit so perfectly together
.
I put him in his late twenties, maybe even early thirties.
His size and physique told me he was either a body builder or some kind of fighter.
Muscles on top of muscles,
veins popping ever so slightly,
making his tats stand out more.

             
Then I saw the logo on his shirt and recognition hit me. MMA.

             
“Kieran Stone.”
I said his name and he inclined his handsome head in acknowledgement. “What can I get for you?” Famous Mixed Martial Artist he might be, but I was nowhere near impressed with his stardom. I might have been a
big
fan, but I had met plenty of celebrities in my old life.

             
“Beer.” He grinned as I popped the top on a Bud and put it in front of him within seconds of the word leaving his mouth. “Nice moves, by the way. You handle yourself well.”

             
I should, I thought with a grimace. I had spent years learning self-defense and martial arts so that I would never be at the mercy of someone else again. “Want anything else?” I ignored his complement.

             
His smile stayed in place.
He was not in the least bit intimidated by me. I kind of liked
that
.
“As a matter of fact, yes. You run the place?”

             
I shrugged. “My boss is on vacation.” Of course I had been running the place pretty effortlessly for the last two years on my own without
Mel having
to
worry about it. She liked that I ran the everyday of Safe Haven. It gave her time to enjoy her life. And if anyone deserved it Mel did. She had taken me in, fed me, given me a job and been the mother figure in my life that I had always needed. She hadn’t looked down on my Goth side, nor chastised me for running away when I was younger. Mel knew what it meant to have a hard life and she wasn’t going to
hold
it against
anyone else for doing what they had to do to survive in the big bad world.

             
Kieran, or Stone as everyone in the MMA called him because of his hard punches, nodded. “Good. So you probably know the person I’m looking for. I heard through a friend that she
was
working here.”

             
“She?” I questioned. I was the only
‘
she
’
that worked at Safe Haven. Everyone else
w
as
bouncers. We had six. Two Monday through Thursday and four on Fridays and Saturdays. My eyes narrowed on the fighter and I dropped my hand to my side. “What’s her name?”

             
“Rebecca
Daventry
.” He spoke the name and my entire body went ice cold. I hadn’t heard that name in over five years. There was no way of knowing how this man knew that name, because I sure as hell had never seen him in person before today...Or maybe I
did
know the reason he knew that particular name.

             
But I didn’t betray my inner turmoil by so much as blink. “What do you want with her? She family?”

             
“Her grandfather sent me to check up on her.” He took a deep swallow of the beer. “He knew I was going to be in the area for a fight and asked me to make sure she was alright.”

             
“I might know a Rebecca.” I told him
after the smallest of hesitations
. “But that doesn’t mean I’m just going to tell you where she is or whatever.” Someone called out for a beer and I sent a glare in the general direction of the caller. “Give me a minute.” I
yelled
back.