Page 7 of Balls to the Walls

I sat in the dark corner, unable to draw my attention from her gorgeous figure. With just a look, she had me captivated. She chatted with the locals, grinning as she fiddled with the pendant around her neck. I stared at it with an intensity I’d never felt before. Not because I had interest in the necklace, but because it rested just between the swell of her breasts.

It didn’t take long for her to make her way to my table. The way her hips moved, slowly swishing from one side to the other left me incapable of looking anywhere other than the small tattoo at her hip. The top she was wearing left a good two inches of skin at her midriff.

“Anything I can get you?”

There was so much she could get me. A night with her wouldn’t be enough to calm the urges surging through my veins. I wanted nothing more than to wrap my hand around her thick mane and pull her against my body, feeling those breasts in my palms. But that wasn’t on the menu tonight. At least, not until I made my move.

“Whiskey.”

Her lips turned up in a sly smile. “Any preferences?”

I saw my opening and couldn’t resist. I leaned forward, lowering my voice so she’d have to lean in to hear me, giving me a prime view of those luscious breasts just a foot away from me.

“What do you have that’s complex but subtle?” Her eyes lit up. “I like something full-bodied. Rich and long-lasting with a hint of honey. Do you happen to have anything like that?”

“I think I know exactly what you’re talking about.”

Her hand went to her pendant again, twirling it slightly as she gave me a coquettish smile. I had her. Now I just had to close the deal.

“Single or double?”

“Double,” I answered, my voice gravelly the longer I stared at her.

“I think I can give you that. Give me just a minute and I’ll be back.”

She winked at me, then turned around, her hips swaying from side to side as she walked to the bar. As she placed her order, she looked back at me, tucking a tendril of hair behind her ear. It was almost more than I could take. Sitting here, waiting for our tête-à-tête to commence once again when she returned with my drink. I could barely control my cool demeanor, knowing the minute she looked at me and sent me a wink, I would once again be under her spell.

As she turned back to the bartender, I saw a single string of hair the color of honey standing out in that mane of dark hair.Honey. Just like I asked for the whiskey, with a hint of honey. It was a fitting name, the way her new name slid over my tongue, warm and inviting. I would find out later just how similar her nickname was to the rest of her.

The cantina door slammed open and she spun around, her eyes filled with fear. I was immediately on guard, watching every move around the joint. Most people didn’t flinch. They simply ignored the new presence, pretending they knew nothing. This new foe, whoever he was, wouldn’t be trifled with. However, my little vixen didn’t respond like everyone else. While they chose to ignore this man, she was terrified, though she tried to hide it.

The urge to get up and protect her was strong, but I forced myself to stay seated, to get more information before I made my move. If he so much as touched her, I wouldn’t hesitate to take action. But for now, I waited in my dark corner for this man to force my hand.

He strode through the cantina, staring only at one person. Honey glanced my way, but quickly diverted her gaze, not wanting to let the man know I was watching. But she was sending me a signal. She needed help and fast. Still, I waited. I needed to know this new foe before making my move.

A passing waiter caught my attention and I signaled him, paying for a cigar before he moved on. They were never my fancy, but the moment was right, the setting perfect for a mysterious figure sitting in the dark, with no one noticing him aside from the cigar that lit up when he took a drag.

Striking the matchbox, I lit the end and took several puffs, then blew out the smoke and waited for the man to make his move. Meanwhile, Honey hurried behind the bar, pouring a drink as she tried to distract herself.

Boyfriend. That was my guess. Ex, based on the way she was moving. She didn’t like this man, was even afraid of him, but she wasn’t stupid enough to make a spectacle in public. Which meant this man had leverage. He was someone to be revered, someone she knew could end her life with just a snap of his fingers.

And no one would lift a finger to help. They all feared this man. They ignored him as he walked through the bar, only giving him a smile as he stopped by their table.

He was smooth and charming in his own right, but none of them wanted to interact with him. They didn’t want to face his wrath when that charm suddenly vanished. As soon as he moved on, the tension at that particular table relaxed instantly, though everyone still kept their guard up.

This man, he was irrational. He was the type of devil that no one crossed, not even if they were drunk. I glanced around and noticed no one appeared drunk. They came here to drink, but wouldn’t dare do anything to put themselves in danger. They knew this wasn’t the place.

I took another drag of my cigar, barely holding back a cough. I wasn’t used to smoking these. Cigars weren’t my drug of choice. Then again, I didn’t normally do any kind of drug, unless it was to save my life.

I watched as the man walked up to Honey, grabbing her by the arm. She tensed immediately, her eyes flicking to mine. The man yelled at her in another language, his spit flying at her face as she barely kept control. The woman was terrified.

I glanced around the room. There were no other men willing to help, but there also wasn’t anyone who appeared to be on this man’s payroll. No one moved. No one even paid attention. With only my Sig at my hip, I slowly pulled it and checked the weapon. In the darkness, no one paid attention to me. In the darkness, he would never see me coming.

But I wasn’t one to fire at someone without giving them a fair chance to defend themselves. Not unless danger was clear and present. I took another drag, then set my cigar down in the tray, then casually lifted my gun and aimed for the bottle of alcohol just above his head. With a single shot, the bottle shattered and liquor poured over his face. He released my femme fatale immediately, spluttering as he turned around to find the shooter.

I picked up my cigar and waited for him to notice me, the lone ranger sitting in the corner with zero fucks to give. It didn’t take him long to notice the man who had nearly taken off his head. Well, had I aimed a little lower.

In a rage, the man strode around the bar, storming over to my table. He pulled a gun from the waistband of his pants, aiming directly at me. But I wasn’t afraid. It was in his stance, the way he held his gun, the way his finger wasn’t quite in the right position. This man threatened people with a gun, but he wasn’t nearly trained enough to use it.

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