Page 27 of Cold Foot Cash

He fought.

That’s why he’d spent those years with his owl in that damn cage.

He finished fights.

Chapter Six

Harley adjusted the ice bucket to her other arm, and tried to figure out why in creation this ice machine had a dozen buttons. She set the small bucket on the platform and squinted at the buttons, searching for the right one.

“I don’t know what’s going on,” someone said down the hallway.

Harley cast a glance at a couple who was staring out the double doors, toward the street. Flashing police lights lit up their faces.

She straightened up. “Is everything okay?” she called down to them.

“There’s a bunch of police across the street,” the woman answered, looking worried.

A dark feeling snaked through Harley. Cash had only left twenty minutes ago.

The flashing lights against those peoples’ faces would probably be burned into her memory for always as she jogged to see what they were staring at.

When she reached the doors, sure enough, police were parked around the bar she’d been at earlier.

The bad feeling grew, and stretched, and unfurled inside of her like a thick fog.

“Excuse me,” she whispered, pushing past the people to shove the door open.

It felt like time slowed as she ran across the street toward the bar. It was Cash. She knew it was Cash. She didn’t understand how she knew, but she did.

She ran between two empty police cruisers and around the building to the back. There was an ambulance, and some medicschecking in with several familiar people from the bar. The guy who had taken pictures of her earlier slid a glare to her, but his face was swollen and bloodied. She could barely recognize his friends with the medics, because they’d been beaten badly. There were others she didn’t know, and when she scanned the parking lot, there was a pickup truck with busted out windows. Against the brick wall of the bar stood Cash.

He looked completely normal except for one thing—his hands. His knuckles were bloody as he gestured to the guys, explaining something to one of the police officers. Anger smoldered in his eyes, but he was talking calmly enough.

“Cash?” she asked softly, approaching.

Cash’s eyes darted directly to her, and the anger cooled in an instant. “No, I don’t want you here. I don’t want you seeing any of this.”

“What’s happening?”

“Ma’am, we need you to stay back,” a tall officer said, holding his hand out.

“Is that your truck?” she asked, shocked. “They broke your windows out?”

“I’m just explaining everything now. Go back to the motel. Please.”

Shocked, Harley scanned the parking lot, taking it all in again. They must’ve busted out his windows. For what? Because he’d made them leave after they took pictures of her? She didn’t know why the next words came out of her mouth. They surprised her just as much as they probably surprised Cash. “I want to go home.”

“Okay, okay,” he said. “That’s okay. I don’t really want you driving back this late but—”

“No, I mean, I want to go back to our room. I want to get away from them,” she said, pointing to the guys Cash had clearly beaten the shit out of.

Cash’s eyebrows drew down. “What?”

“I want to go back to our room. I don’t like those guys.”

“Ma’am, did you see what happened?” the tall officer asked.

“Part of it.” She gestured to the guys over with the police and medics. “Those guys were taking pictures of me playing pool earlier, and my…” She cleared her throat. “My boyfriend told them to leave.”

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