Page 86 of Banshee
“Baby girl—”
“Go. Go,” I urged, pushing him away. Banshee followed Mimic to the lot, the rest of us trailing behind.
“Zeus, I need you and your men to stay here and guard the women,” King said.
“You got it!” my brother responded. “Everyone inside,” my brother yelled, twirling a finger over his head to signal his men to round everyone up.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Grace
Tonight was supposed to be my night off; that was until Mary Ann called and asked if I could cover her shift. Her mom had fallen and broken her arm, and she needed to be with her. I’d jumped at the chance, knowing that because I wasn’t on the schedule, King had no idea I would be working. Therefore, Johnny wouldn’t be here.
I moved around the bar making drinks and serving customers. I flirted with men, and even a few women. My tip jar was overflowing. The hours flew by without interruption.
As the night wore on, I looked over at the seat Johnny usually sat on. It was a habit after a year of having him as a shadow. Ever since I’d started working here, there had always been a brother or a prospect of the Silver Shadows here when I worked.
Watching over me.
Reporting on me.
For the past year, it had been Johnny. Johnny was different from the others; he always sat on the same stool and talked to me during my shift. He didn’t pretend his presence was for any other reason than to keep an eye on me. He was honest, and I appreciated honesty. When my shift was over, he would follow me home and wait until I was inside before he rode off.
That was something else I appreciated but would never say out loud. Most nights, I worked until closing. Sometimes until two or three in the morning. Johnny walked me to my car, securing me inside before he walked to his bike.
I found myself constantly looking over at his stool. It was never empty, but it wasn’t him sitting there. Each time I’d glanced in that direction, someone from town was sat there. This time, however, it wasn’t a townie sitting on his stool.
It was a man I didn’t recognize.
He was tall, almost Gunner-size tall. He had dark hair that was neat and styled. His trimmed beard just covered his chin and cheeks, and he wore a white button-down shirt, slacks, and loafers.
His attire was out of place here in Diamond Creek. We had bikers, farmers, and cowboys. Not businessmen.
Well, there was Bryce Caswell, Lily’s boyfriend. But he had grown up here and actually worked in Boulder, where he lived during the week. On the weekends, he came home to spend time with Lily.
It wasn’t the type of relationship I would be happy with, but it was nice to see Lily smile and stop pining over Ben.
The man looked my way and winked.
I slowly made my way over. He was cute, in a refined way. The total opposite of King. And right now, that worked in his favor.
“What can I get you?” I asked, leaning on the bar, letting my cleavage spill over.
“Whiskey neat,” he said, his voice smooth and his eyes on my boobs. I moved away and grabbed the bottle, pouring a couple of fingers’ worth of the alcohol into a glass.
When I set his glass on the napkin, I looked into his eyes. They were deep brown, almost black. My eyes trailed down his body, and I noticed what looked like a scar peeking out from under the collar of his shirt.
His hand reached for the glass, and the cuff of his sleeve slipped back, exposing another scar on his wrist similar to theone on his shoulder. The way he lifted the glass to his lips, his eyes locked on mine as he took a deep sip, mesmerized me.
“My name’s Jude,” he said, settling his glass back on the bar.
“Grace,” I replied without thought. The man held me hostage with his eyes. There was something about him that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. He opened his mouth to say something, and that was when it happened.
Gunshots rang out through the bar. Glass in the windows shattered, and people started screaming. I stood behind the bar, frozen as I watched the chaos before me. People fell to the ground. I didn’t know if they’d been shot or were trying to avoid it. I’d worked here for almost three years, and nothing like this had ever happened.
We had bar fights regularly, and last year we’d had a man drugging women and raping them. Sam, Jack’s old lady, had almost been a victim. Aspen had been.
But drive-bys weren’t something that happened in the sleepy little town of Diamond Creek. It was one of the reasons I’d decided to stay. I liked it here. I liked the people.
