Page 19 of Behind the Shadows
With that, I strolled to the other end of the bar to soothe the irritated gentleman. Midforties, maybe older, dressed in a sharp navy suit that looked expensive but slightly rumpled, likehe’d had a long day and a longer temper. He shoved his fingers through his slicked-back black hair, jaw tight, and his expression blazed with barely contained fury.
“I’ve been waiting for another drink for ten minutes,” he growled.
“Sorry, man. This one is on the house.” It was the best I could do to smooth over the situation. My head had been up my ass all night. It wasn’t his fault.
Once I made his drink and set it in front of him, I tended to the other customers. Each time I glanced over at him, an unease snaked through me. I suspected it had nothing to do with him, but Holland. It wouldn’t hurt to chat him up a little to make sure my instincts were on point, and I wasn’t simply on edge about my new obsession.
“Do you need anything to eat?” I asked as I tossed the white bar towel over my shoulder. I leaned on the bar top, the snake tattoo that ran the length of my arm appeared to slither as my muscles flexed. The tail of the snake looped through the mouth and eyes of a black skull at the top of my shoulder. A white dove perched on top of the skull, signifying life and death. My favorite tattoo, the one that sent my mother into a fucking tailspin, was the bright red devil on my upper arm. The lifelike tattoo attracted a lot of attention, but I always gave some bullshit concerning the backstory, and not the real meaning behind it.
“Another drink.” He moved the empty glass toward me.
My brow arched. It would be his third, and the moment he’d sat down at the bar he’d been agitated. Adding booze to the equation never had a positive outcome. Most of the time that didn’t bother me, but I had a responsibility to Riley and the other customers in here.
“Sure thing, boss.” I disappeared long enough to make another whiskey and coke, but this time I added more coke than Jack Daniels. Then, I ordered a basket of fries for him.
“You need an Uber when you’re ready to leave?” No way would I let someone on my watch drive drunk. Not that I gave a fuck about this guy, but my business couldn’t take a hit. It may have seemed heartless, but it was my way of coping. Emotions had become a burden long ago, and I had mastered the art of putting on a facade of empathy without actually feeling anything. There were a few rare moments when I let myself care, like with my closest friends and the innocent lives we saved, but deep down I knew I was broken. As a child, I used to pray for a sign from God that I wasn't damned to an eternity of suffering for the shit I’d done. He never answered.
“I don’t need some punk-ass kid telling me what to do,” he muttered, staring at me as if he were itching to fight.
My brow arched as the order for his fries came up. Without a word, I collected his food and placed it in front of him. “As long as you’re at my bar, you’re my responsibility. We can play this two ways—you can stop being an asshole and eat something, or I can escort you outside. Your choice. I don’t give a fuck what you do either way.” My fingers flexed, itching for the son of a bitch to say the wrong thing. Anger simmered to life in my gut, but I would control it until I needed to unleash it like it was a hellhound on a hunt.
The asshole shoved the basket off the bar, and the fries tumbled to the floor and on top of my boots. Our gazes connected, and I tipped my chin at him.
I approached Riley, still staring at the asshole. “I need to take this guy outside. I’ll be back in a few.”
“Do I need to call the cops?” she asked.
“Nah, I got it.”
I slipped out from behind the bar and made my way over to him. My sore muscles from my earlier activity coiled like a spring ready to pounce. “Time’s up, buddy. You're leaving now,” I growled.
He turned to me with a venomous glare before launching himself off the bar stool and aiming a punch at my gut. But I was prepared for his predictable move and dodged it effortlessly. With a sly smirk, I grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and lifted him to his feet. “Bad choice, asshole.”
A primal snarl escaped his lips as I dragged him toward the exit and out into the frigid night air. The cool breeze was a welcome relief against my hot and sweaty skin, fueling my adrenaline even more.
“Let me go, or I’ll?—”
“You’ll what? I’m actually being nice since you need to sober up.”
He smirked. “I’m not drunk, and you have no right to manhandle me.” He struggled to free himself from my grasp.
“I’ll let you go, but you have to leave. You’re not welcome back here, and I better not see your ugly mug again.” I released him and gave him a little shove toward the steps that led to the parking lot. “Hurry up. I don’t have all night to babysit your ass, but I am going to make sure you get the hell out of here.”
He huffed but descended the steps. Most of the time people didn’t realize how drunk they were, and they often weaved with every step. This guy wasn’t having a hard time with the stairs at all, though. Guess he was just a piece of shit with a bad attitude in search of a fight.
As we reached the dimly lit parking lot, a sudden burst of crimson sliced through the darkness. My head whipped around to catch a glimpse of what had captured my attention. My forehead creased in confusion as I looked ahead.Holland.What was she doing here?
She slipped her purse over her shoulder and locked the car, but it wasn’t the white Mercedes I'd seen her drive yesterday. She glanced in our direction and froze.
A wicked sneer eased across the asshole’s face. “My luck has just turned around.”
Holland’s stare rounded like a wild animal caught in the blinding glare of headlights. Without hesitation, she spun on her heel and sprinted, her purse flying off her shoulder and landing on the ground with a thud. The sound of her pounding footsteps echoed through the parking lot as she dashed toward the dense shadows of the nearby woods, fear propelling her forward. But her pursuer was hot on her trail, closing the gap with every stride, his heavy footfalls drumming mercilessly behind her.
“What the fuck is going on?” I sprinted after them as she disappeared into the dense tree line. With adrenaline coursing through my veins, I scooped up her abandoned purse and kept running, determined to catch up to them. The fear in her features was palpable—she was clearly terrified of that man. Not only did I want to find out what the hell was going on, I was itching to beat the shit out of him already. Holland was only giving me more reasons to validate my desire to punch him square in the goddamn nose.
I entered the woods, my senses alert for any sign of where they’d gone. The full, bright moon cut a path through the trees while the crisp crunching of dried leaves guided me onward, my determination growing with every step.
Out of nowhere, a bloodcurdling scream shattered the silence, causing all my muscles to tense. Ignoring any sense of self-preservation, I pushed myself even harder toward the source of the noise.
