Page 28 of Special Agent Murphy

Chapter Nineteen

Just after four-thirty, Murphy walked into the poolroom and took a table at the back. He wore an old, tattered Redskins cap, a favorite he’d used while painting his house.

Surveying the place, he saw a rundown yet comfortable establishment with a sign over the crystal-studded black granite counter saying it opened in 1938. Multiple beer advertisements lit up the wall and made the display of mugs and glasses sparkle. No doubt, many generations had sharpened their baby teeth in this place where society’s underdogs could feel relatively safe and be with others of the same ilk.

For years, he himself had spent hours and all his spare cash in a similar joint and had become a good pool player, one good enough to hustle others into paying a lot of money, thinking they could beat him.

He and another buddy worked to suck in the losers. The games and resulting extra cash had given a lift to many of his days when he’d been working bullshit jobs for minimum wage.

As the hours passed, he saw the eight pool tables begin to fill up with customers. He even stepped up when one of the others asked him to make up the fourth. Though he played, his shots wowing his loud-mouth partner, he never lost sight of the reason for being there.

Thanks to Ryan identifying a mug shot of Alex taken after he’d stolen a car five years earlier and got off with probation and a fine, he had a good idea of what the guy looked like. They’d texted the image, and he’d memorized it.

Suddenly, he noticed a female, dressed in a black leather jacket – her long dark hair streaming in waves down her back almost to her waist. She headed over to get a beer, strutting like she owned the place. Leaning on the bar, she downed half the bottle in one gulp.

Lord love a duck!

Katherine…?

He was not happy.

It was his turn to shoot, and he had to take his eyes off her long enough to win the game and nod when they racked up the balls for the next team to step up.

What the hell? His pool partner and others had organized a round-robin competition without him paying attention. Suddenly, he was involved in a tournament with a bunch of money as the prize. Others had begun watching, and mouthy, his partner, hadn’t stopped bragging since they won the third round.

Watching for the person he wanted to talk to, he now had to worry about what’s her name – right, Kayti – not to get into trouble. And from the looks of her, with a pool cue in her hand, dusting the end, she knew what the hell she was doing with it. He wished he’d have given into the urge to drink rye and coke rather than sip on a warm beer.

As the evening slowly passed, he listened to the raucous laughter coming from the table near the door, the one Kayti had joined with another female, a chick who’d obviously been around the block a few times.

They’d teamed up and seemed to be making a run on the table, which shocked the shit out of him. Christ if he’d have figured she’d be the kind to play this game! Then again, many at the training school had frequented a nearby place where pool tables were a draw.

Teach him to slot people into types. Although, usually his judge of character, honed over time, meant he seldom made a mistake. He never trusted anyone until they gave him a reason to do so. And for many, he didn’t care enough to stick around and give them that chance.

To his regret, as a young man, he’d found most people were flawed. He didn’t have the time or the stomach to deal with that type. So, he didn’t.

He guessed people picked up on his lack of interest. They tended to give him a wide berth, left him alone. Those he liked; they became friends. To his surprise, they never wavered. If their invitations to hang out were any indication, they seemed to like being with him.

What most people never knew, except the few he let in – he was a nice guy. It was a fact. Problem was, he hated liars and cheats and most of all bullshitters – weak-kneed assholes who thought themselves better than the average hard-working joe. That kept a lot of people off his radar.

Playing by reflex, watching but not really involved, he spent more time paying attention to the goings-on two tables over. Especially to the bearded, greasy-haired freak who’d sidled up to Kayti and put his hand on her hips, then lowered it to her ass.

An atomic bomb detonated in his gut. Before he could step in, and he had full intentions of doing so, he saw her pool cue being driven into the guy’s lower stomach. Curled over with no breath to cuss, the prick now used the offending hand to clutch himself.

Murphy watched as Kayti, all apologetic, helped the fellow to a chair and pushed his head down over his knees. She knelt beside him like she was apologizing.

What the hell?

As if she sensed his stare, she glanced his way and winked. That’s when her partner won the game, and it soon became clear the winning females were heading over to his table.

Kayti sidled over to him, her bared shoulders gleamed under the lights above, her tanned skin soft and supple. She’d removed her jacket, revealing a tiny, black, body-hugging T-shirt with thin straps and no sleeves. Hell, the bloody thing barely covered her chest.

The urge to caress her arms to see if they truly felt like silk, caught him unaware. He shook off the vision before he embarrassed himself.

The fact that he’d been staring only hit him when her tentative smile faltered from his glare, and she quickly looked the other way.

Then his eyes were drawn to her… ahh, assets the same as most others standing around. She was built. And there’d be piss-all he could do about it. Being that he worked with her meant she was off-limits.

He knew others in the department played around with relationships, and some got caught and had to change jobs. Others stayed under the radar. But he’d never imagined being in that kind of a situation.

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