Page 5 of Smolder

The two idiots who I’d watched the blonde swindle had joined us. This was Nathan’s backup? Seriously? Could he not have gotten better men?

The larger one’s eyes widened as he looked at whatever Storm had just done behind me, but the other one pointed his gun in my direction. I didn’t wait to see what he planned on doing since he wasn’t very bright. I put a bullet in his forearm, causing his gun to fall to the ground as his knees buckled from the pain.

His friend went down almost at the same time from King shooting the man’s right thigh.

“It didn’t have to get messy. Look what you made us do,” King drawled with a shake of his head. “Damn. Who’s gonna drive the three of you? And now, there is all this blood.”

“I’ll get it!” Nathan cried out. “Tell Stellan I will have it by the end of the week. Just need a couple of days.”

I smirked, glancing at the man as he leaned back on his truck, holding his wrist as blood dripped from it onto the pavement. “Thatcher will come for it next. I suggest you have it ready.”

“I will,” he said, wincing through the pain. “I swear.”

The man that King had shot glared at all of us, then began to limp toward Nathan. I turned my attention to the other man. It wasn’t my business, but I had to make sure.

“Did you pay the blonde inside what you owed her?” I asked.

He narrowed his gaze at me. “I didn’t owe that little bitch shit. She was playing us. I just wanted to fuck her.”

That pissed me off. Again, not my business, but she’d worked hard for that money. I’d sure been entertained.

“I’ll give you about sixty seconds to go back inside and pay her the six hundred you owe her, plus an extra hundred for a game well played,” I told him, aiming the gun at his thigh this time. “Or I’ll give you a limp to match your buddy’s.”

He glared at me. “What the fuck?!”

Storm’s low chuckle only seemed to make the man angrier.

“Just do it!” Nathan barked at him.

“I’d go pay the girl. Sebastian is real big on chivalry. He won’t let this go,” Storm said with amusement.

The guy cursed and held up his arm. “You want me to go inside, bleeding from a gunshot?”

“He’s got a point,” Storm said. “No need to cause us any more annoyance. Just get the money off him and deliver it yourself.”

I stuck my gun back in the holster at my waist as I closed the distance between me and the bastard who was going to walk out without paying up. His eyes followed me warily as I approached him.

Bending down, I picked up his gun, then tossed it to Storm. “Now, you want to tell me which pocket, or do you want me feeling you up?”

The man clenched his teeth as he inhaled through his nose. It was a grimace that was somewhere between pain and anger. Both were battling for first place, it seemed.

“Front right.”

I reached inside as he tensed up even more and pulled out his wallet. Opening it, I saw his license. Calvin Cebourn Edwards.

“Damn, your parents hated you, Calvin Cebourn,” I mused, then counted out eight hundred-dollar bills instead of seven since he had a wad of cash. Might as well tip the girl proper for an excellent performance.

I dropped the wallet to the ground in front of him, right on top of a pool of his blood. “You understand if I don’t stick my hand back in your jeans,” I said, then headed toward the door of the pool hall.

The lit-up sign above the door readRAILHOUSE, but theEwas blinking on and off. Someone needed to fix that.

Shoving the door open, I entered the building and scanned the place until I saw the blonde talking to the bartender. She laughed at something he’d said, and I wished I were close enough to hear it. I was almost to her when those unique eyes locked on me. She studied me, unsure if I was headed for her or not.

The bartender said something to her, and she blinked, then glanced at him before turning her attention back to me. The tip of her pink tongue came out to do a quick lick of her lips. I wouldn’t mind tasting them myself. It was a shame I had business to handle tonight.

I laid the money down on the bar in front of her. “This is yours,” I told her.

She frowned, looking at it. “What?”

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