Page 15 of In Spades

I laughed under my breath. “Is this one of those places that you can’t get service at unless you’re born and raised here?”

The bartender cracked a smile. “So, you are an out-of-towner.”

I raised my hands in defeat. “Guilty as charged. I’m staying at the Taylor Creek Inn for a few weeks.” I looked around the dingy honky-tonk. “Heard good things about this place. Figured I’d come check it out.”

“You allergic to anything?” she asked.

I shook my head.

I probably should have questioned it when she stuck her head through the kitchen pass-through window and shouted something about a burger. But hey—when in Rome.

She wandered back my way and asked, “What can I get you to drink, new guy?”

“Just a beer.”

“Any preference?”

I shook my head. “Surprise me.”

She grabbed a glass and stuck it under one of the taps. “So. You’re staying at the inn?”

“Yeah.” I nodded. “It’s a great place.”

“You got a name?”

“Will.”

She slid me the beer. “Nice to meet you, Will. I’m Bridget. You behave yourself and don’t make my job harder, and I might just let you come back.” She finished the offer with a wink and a half-cocked smile.

I chuckled and tipped my glass toward her. “Much obliged.”

“So, Will from out of town who is staying at the inn, who’d you hear about my bar from?”

I raised my eyebrows. “You’re the owner?”

Bridget laughed and shook her head.

“Housekeeper at the inn,” I said between sips. I wiped the foam off of my five o’clock shadow with the back of my hand. “Told me Revanche is great if I’m feeling fancy, and this place is good if I’m not.”

That made her really laugh. “Must’ve been Kristin, then.”

“You know Kristin?” I said all too quickly.

Apparently, my question made a lightbulb go off in her mind. “Tell you what. You let me take your picture and that drink is on the house.”

Beer caught in my throat, and I choked and sputtered. “Excuse me?”

It was too late. She had her phone out and snapped a photo of me sitting at the bar.

“Thank ya kindly, hon,” Bridget grinned as her fingers flew across her phone. “Kris is gonna kill me, but this is so worth it.”

“I, uh, I met Kristin the other day while she was working. Do you know her well?”

Bridget shoved her phone in the back pocket of her ripped up jeans and grabbed a few empties off the bar, tossing them in a bus bin. “Depends on why you’re asking.”

Before I could get another word in, the door shrieked again and Kristin’s friend, Chase, strolled in. His gun and badge were prominently displayed on his hip.

Bridget sucked in a sharp breath. She looked expectantly at the door, as if expecting someone else to appear.

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