Page 13 of Shaken Knot Stirred

My car was at the bar. Fine. Decision made for me. I took off into the woods to make the half-mile walk to the Delta Lounge.

As soon as my feet were moving, my brain spiraled away with a to-do list. I’d just pop in and grab a couple of things. I had some old fake IDs in my office, the extra scent blockers. There was money in the safe, but I’d leave that for Marty and Helena. I would go retrieve my piggy bank next.

I slowed as the woods thinned out. If I were Beg, I’d hide in the woods and wait for my prey to show up. There wasn’t really a convenient place to park a car except out in the open. As I got closer, I could see my ratty little sedan, Helena’s ride, and Marty’s pickup.

Was it that late already? I pulled out my phone; it was 2:00 p.m. Right. It was Friday. Happy hour. We’d be packed until midnight. “Packed” was a bit of an overstatement, but it was the busiest night at the Delta Lounge. Marty and Helena both got into the habit of coming in early to prep for the weekend. It made a busy night so much better when all your limes were already chopped. I chewed on a fingernail. Would Beg think I was dumb enough to come back here?

I pulled the crowbar from the back door and let myself into the kitchen. Marty must have just gotten here. He hadn’t started any of the food prep yet.

How the fuck was I going to explain this? “Oh yeah, guess what, guys? Your boss is a criminal and stole a bag full of cash from Port Haven’s premiere crime lord. Surprise!”

I squeezed into my office to collect the IDs and drugs. “And your boss is probably a drug addict because she’s an omega and doesn’t want anyone to know it,” I whispered under my breath.

Resting my head on the door, I took a deep breath for courage. We were all going to end up hurt by the end of the day. Marty and Helena were the closest thing I had to friends. They were as close to a pack as I was ever going to get. This was going to fuck them over.

Marty was fresh out of jail, barely holding his shit together. That “pack dinner” of his last night wasn’t just a celebration; it was proof of him getting back on track. He had wandered in here all disheveled, living out of his truck. He was hell bent on self-destruction when no one would hire him. My barback had flaked and had left me hanging. Marty had jumped in, ran the kitchen, bussed tables. I’d given him the job on the spot and then fucked him in the bed of his truck.

When Helena rolled in one night with Mr. Red Flag as a boyfriend, Marty was first to the aluminum bat when he raised a hand. We put her up for a few days and helped her move out and that was that. Marty joked we should change the name of the Delta Lounge to Moxie’s Home for Wayward Betas.

I tossed my head back and steeled myself. They could survive without me. I didn’t owe them anything. I put on one of my “it’s no big deal” smiles, pushed the door open, and stepped into the Delta Lounge.

“So, funny story,” I said and stopped dead.

My cheeks flushed red at the sight of Beg Knightbridge sitting on the pool table, one of his legs dangling over the side, casually tossing a bottle of vodka in the air and just as casually catching it.

Marty was looking defeated at one of the tables, his hands clasped in front of him, a trickle of blood leaking from his nose. Helena was beside him, her hands bound. The only thingstopping her sobs was the gag in her mouth. That fucker had better have used a clean bar rag. Beg was in the same clothes as last night and looked slightly worse for wear. Mud was caked on his shoes. His bald head was not as shiny as it should have been, and his pine scent was chokingly thick.

“So, tell me that funny story, Moxie,” Beg drawled. “I bet it’s not going to have a happy ending.” He flipped the bottle again.

Men like Beg prided themselves on being unflappable, always in control, and controlling everyone around them. And they expected omegas to act a particular way. I wouldn’t give him that satisfaction.

Acting as if I was ignoring him, I went behind the bar and stuffed my handbag into the duffel. I fished out my keys and unclipped my car keys from the stack, pocketing them. I set the rest on the bar with a jangly thump. Boy, was I regretting the “no firearms in the Delta Lounge” rule now.

Beg watched me with fascination. I was sure he’d never had a hostage go about business with little regard for him. Rounding the bar again, I dropped my bag on the table next to Marty and avoided his eyes, hoping that if it looked like I didn’t care that the two most important people in the world to me right now were beaten and bound, Beg wouldn’t care about them either.

“You break it, you buy it, buddy.” I said, nodding at the bottle. “Retail price, no friends and family discount here.” His aura quivered, and he took an unconscious glance at Marty and Helena. Hm, that was interesting.

He opened his mouth to reply, but I cut him off.

“It’s not here. I’ll take you to it. You never come back. Deal?”

I had to get him out of here. Beg was a bigger threat to Marty and Helena than he was to me right now. I had something he wanted. He was using my employees to get me to do what he wanted.

He tossed the bottle one more time, as if considering the offer. He stood, moving between me and the front door. At this point, I just needed to get him out of the bar and away from my employees. He wasn’t really considering my offer. He was considering what should happen next.

“That’s not how this works, Moxie.”

“My house, my rules,” I said, putting my hand on my hip.

“Oh, such a bossy little omega.”

“Omega?” Marty asked.

I snatched my bag up as if in a huff, brushing past him. “Well, come on now. I don’t have all day.”

I stood by the door, waiting for him. He flipped the bottle one more time, giving it some distance and making no move to catch it. The bottle shattered in the space between us, kicking up the scent of expensive vodka that did not complement his pine. Like he had all the time in the world, he slid off the edge of the pool table, took a cigarette out of his pocket, and a Zippo lighter. I held the door open for him, feigning impatience.

As he got closer, I stepped just outside, enticing him.

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