Page 21 of End Game

“Beer’s fine,” he muttered. His eyes moved to my hair.

“Sure thing. We’ve got a special on Bud bottles tonight. Or do you prefer a draft?”

He shrugged. “Bud’ll do it.”

I nodded, pretending it wasn’t a little weird that he didn’t care what he drank. It made me wonder what he was really doing here.

Maybe he likes the music?

I tried not to let my own preconceived notions take root, tried not to judge him until he gave me a firm reason to. It was habit for me to always look for the bad in people—it’s what’d helped keep me and others safe in this job for so long. When shit went down with an aggressive or unruly patron, I usually already had my eye on them. But I’d also categorized plenty of completely normal people as potential assholes, and I knew they didn’t always deserve it.

So I bent down to one of the many below-bar fridges we had and pulled out a bottle of Bud. I flipped the top off with the bottle-opener I kept in the waistband of my shorts and slid the beer in front of him. “You wanna keep an open tab or should I close you out?” I asked.

He eyed my chest before he shrugged again. He hadn’t once looked me directly in the eye. “Close it.”

Alriiight. I spun back around to the computer and printed a bill for the beer, tucking it into a black book before setting it down in front of him with a polite smile. And then I turned my attention to the group of women beside him who wanted to order another round.

It only took me about five minutes to make the four lemon drop shots they’d ordered, but once I’d served them, I realized that the man was no longer seated in his stool. The black book had been pushed up the bar, so I reached for it and flipped it open. The tab for the beer was still neatly tucked inside, but there wasn’t cash or a card anywhere to be found. My eyes snapped up, scanning the dwindling crowd of the club for any sign of him.

I didn’t see him anywhere.

Well, he wasn’t the first customer to walk out on a tab, and he wouldn’t be the last. At least the damage wasn’t major.

“Mara,” sounded a deep voice behind me, and I nearly jumped out of my skin.

“Shit,” I breathed, turning around to find Leo standing behind me. His eyes were blue steel outlined by dark lashes as they bounced around my face.

The corners of his mouth turned down. “I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to scare you.”

I made it a point to look away, to make a sweep down the line of customers to see if there might be someone who needed something from me—anything to get me out of another conversation with Leo.

Unfortunately, everyone looked content.

I sighed, turning to face the computer screen instead. “Can I help you?” I asked rather curtly as I pulled the disappearing man’s tab back up so I could void it out and mark it as a loss.

Leo stepped closer, and I sucked in a breath from the feel of his arm lightly brushing against my shoulder. I breathed in a trace of what must have been his cologne—he smelled like the mountains, like pine trees and damp earth. Like the Colorado air. And it suited him. I realized it may not have been cologne at all . . . That maybe it was just his natural scent. “I was curious how long you’ll be here tonight?” His voice was low, the timbre of it dancing along the skin of my neck.

My brow furrowed as I swiped my manager-access card into the machine, approving the void on the lost tab. “Why?”

His tone changed. “Did someone walk out on their bill?”

I spun around with a glare. “Yeah, actually, someone did. What’s it to you?”

His eyes narrowed. “Well, considering this is my business, I find it more than appropriate to question the possibility of a lost transaction.” There was something about the way the words rushed out of him that revealed that slight accent again. Leo was irritated.

Looking back at the computer screen, I tried to quell the simmering fire beneath the surface of my skin. “It was a three-dollar tab in a club that’s pulling in close to six-figures tonight. I’d hardly call it much of a ‘lost transaction,’ sir.” In all honesty, the loss irked me as much as it seemed to irk Leo. But it irked me more that Leo was even here to be irked in the first place. I watched his face fall further, and despite my frustration, I didn’t like the way his expression made me feel. “Look, I’m sure you mean well. I’d just rather not be chastised over three measly dollars. The guy was a creep anyway.”

“I wasn’t trying to chastise you . . . wait, what do you mean?”

I shrugged. “It was only three dollars. It’s really not that big of a deal.”

His nostrils flared. “No, the other part. The guy was a creep?”

“Oh.” I finally looked back at him, catching the way his jaw clenched in rapid succession as his eyes fastened to mine. “He put out some weird vibes. Wouldn’t look me in the eye, leered at the women next to him like they were pieces of meat. I wish I could say it’s not common, but in a place like this it’s pretty normal.” I paused, noting that Leo’s teeth were practically grinding together. “If it’s any consolation, I think he was a ‘generally safe’ kind of creep. I had my eye on him for a while before I served him.”

“Mara,” Leo retorted, his tone sharp enough to cut glass, “are you telling me that it’s normal for customers to disrespect you here? To make you feel uncomfortable?”

Something about the way he said it—like he was on the thinnest edge of unraveling from a reality that was commonplace for me—made my stomach curl in on itself. “This is a nightclub,” I said. As if that was all the reason in the world to accept the danger that often lurked in the corners.

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