Page 157 of The Puck Stops Here

‘This is more important,’ she said, racing across the road, straight into Astrid’s arms and they hugged each other tight.

‘It’s so good to see you, Sissi.’

‘And you, but if you think I’m letting you go in there without me, you’ve got another thing coming. They’ll take one look at you in this utterly fabulous coat and eat you alive.’

‘But Sissi?—’

‘No buts, you’ll need me to translate your fancy accent.’

‘My fancy?—’

‘Just kidding, come on.’ She looped her arm through Astrid’s and tugged her inside.

The second the door swung closed, every head turned their way. From the men at the bar, to those mid-game at the pool table, to those sitting in the booths against the walls.Shit.

Her nose wrinkled. What was that smell? Beer, sweat and something indescribable. Age-old tobacco? Andnotthe kind you’d stick in your reed diffuser.

She blinked, her eyes adjusting from the dark outside to the neon tinge within as she plastered on a smile. ‘Bloody hell, Sissi,’ she said under her breath, ‘this place is?—’

‘A whole ’nother level, I know.’

The place wasn’t small but the sticker-clad walls and low lighting made it feel tiny. Not to mention the narrowed gazes making her want to shrink into the floor.

Sienna strode towards the bar where three lone individuals sat, seasoned regulars judging by the way they seemed to blend into the wood.

‘Hey Boots!’ Sienna called out, seemingly to no one, and a guy appeared from the back. Grey hair, fuzzy beard, twinkling eyes.

‘Sienna, doll, to what do we owe this pleasure?’

She gave him an easy smile that took the edge off Astrid’s nerves, particularly as one of the seasoned regulars was currently giving her a snarl… or was that supposed to be a smile?

‘I was looking for?—’

‘Well well well, look what the cat dragged in…’

A man rose up from a darkened booth, his black hair slicked back, its sheen making it hard to tell if it was grey at the temples or blue from the glowing Coors sign overhead. He was tall, broad, with a jaw as chiselled as his boys, and cheekbones just as high. Of course he would be handsome.

Take James Bond, stick him in biker gear and age him by thirty years and this man was him. Though most of that ageing came from the bottom of a beer bottle, she’d warrant.

‘Take a wrong turn, Miss Prim?’

‘Save the sarcasm for someone who cares, Rick,’ Sissi threw back. ‘My friend here wants to talk to you.’

He came a step closer, his glassy blue eyes narrowing into suspicious slits as he turned them on Astrid and gave her a thorough once-over that made her shiver.

‘Well, why didn’t you say so?’ His dark brows twitched up and he ran his tongue over his lips. ‘Walk this way, baby doll. I’ve always got time to talk to a pretty face.’

Oh, fuck.She felt the tension in Sissi ripple through her arm. They stepped forward as one and he rocked his beer bottle at them. ‘Ah-ah, not you, Miss Prim, you can sort a round of drinks.’

‘Carter, I don’t want no trouble,’ Boots said, his voice low in warning.

‘Trouble?’ Rick gave him a grin, his hands raised. ‘Who said anything about trouble? Sounds like we’re going to have a nice chat and a drink, right, baby doll? Gotta say, I’m curious to hear what about though.’

Astrid gave Sissi a nod. She had this. In fact, the more unsavoury he was, the better she felt. Because finding a broken man and making him relive the horror he’d inflicted would’ve have sucked. This guy however…

‘What can I get you?’ Sissi asked her.

‘I’ll have a Johnnie Walker neat.’ More to warm herself up than to balance the nerves.

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