Page 10 of Brutal King

It’s not his fault I ordered a full meal in the middle of the night, well after most patrons are interested only in booze. Nope, that’s all on me.

God, what have I done?

Now that I’ve had more than a few hours to think about it, the reality of my situation sinking in, I’m starting to wonder if this was a mistake.

Actually, Iknowit was a mistake. The question is, how big?

I’m fucking exhausted, cold, and broke, but my pride has prevented me from calling for help.

Tugging my Columbia hoodie higher over my neck, wishing it were warmer, I glance to the man sitting on the other side of the bar. Not only do I wish my sweater were warmer, but nicer too.

He’s so good-looking, dressed like he’s about to shoot a cover forGQ. Older than me, maybe in his thirties, he has a little silver in his dark wavy hair, broad shoulders beneath his perfectly tailored suit and nice big hands.

He looks my way, and I grimace inwardly when his blue-gray eyes take me in. Out of all the places I could encounter a man like him, it’s in this shithole.

“Stay put,” he says into the cellphone he’s holding. “Something tells me they won’t stay down.”

He hangs up and smiles at me. I clear my throat and return my attention to my plate.

The bartender goes to stand in front of him. “Refill, boss?”

“Please.” His voice is deep and warm. Masculine.

From the corner of my eye, I watch as the bartender pours him a glass of whiskey, then comes back to me. “How are you doing with that sandwich?”

“I’m done. Thank you,” I say, pushing it toward him. “Can I borrow your phone to call a cab?”

“Of course. But I’m not sure you’ll get one out at this hour. They usually stop coming around midnight.”

“Shit.”

“Where are you heading?” the man with the sinful voice asks.

I turn to him. Handsome he might be, but I’m not going to tell him I need a place for the night. I highly doubt I’d be allowed to sleep here.

“I’m meeting a friend,” I reply.

The employee places my tab in front of me, and I take it.

I tug my bag onto the counter and begin to riffle through it. Almost immediately, my search becomes frantic. “Shit. Shit. Shit!”

“What’s the matter?”GQasks.

“I can’t find my wallet.” I practically dump the contents of the bag onto the bar—a change of clothes, white sneakers, and toiletries. “Oh my God. This can’t be happening. I must have left it on the bus.”

“Seriously?” The bartender comes around to our side and grabs me roughly by the arm. “You’ve made a huge mistake if you think you’re going to stiff me.”

“Let me go!” I screech, trying to pull out of his painful grasp.

“Get your fucking hands off her!”GQis suddenly there, seizing the bartender by the back of the neck and throwing him against the wall.

He falls, bringing with him several small frames, glass shattering all around him. Before he can recover,GQwraps a hand around his throat and lifts him to his feet as if he weighs nothing. “You don’t touch a lady like that. That’s a huge mistake. Got me?”

“Yeah, yeah, boss.”

He drops him, then tugs out his leather wallet and tosses him enough cash to cover both our bills. “Keep the change.”

“Hey, wait!” I call when he makes to leave. Quickly, I gather my things, shoving everything back into my bag. “Wait for me.”

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