Page 3 of Candy

I stepped in through the back door, my hand pressed to my cheek, and stopped as I watched Bollard kick a few boxes out of his way. “Who pissed in your Cheerios this morning?”

He glanced back. “What?”

“Nothing,” I mumbled, shaking my head as I followed him further into the kitchen.

“Go through that door and have a seat. I’ll get you some ice.” He turned away from me without another word, and I glared at him—what a grump. The guy hadn’t even said he was sorry.

I went through the door and came out on the opposite side of the bar. For a moment, I glanced around. I’d been in the tavern many times but never behind the bar. What a different view you got from here. I went to stand behind the soda fountain and turned until I was facing the liquor shelves. My gaze jumped to the mirror behind it, and my eyes went wide as I saw a bright-red spot on my cheek. “Ouch!” I leaned forward and inspected it closer.

I frowned and started heading toward the tables when the door from the back swung open, and I threw my hands out to stop it before it smashed my face. “Holy crap! Can you be more careful?”

“Jesus Christ, Candy! What the hell are you doing back there? I thought you’d be sitting at a table.”

“I was looking in the mirror at the damage you did,” I replied, slightly surprised that he knew my name.

“I didn’t do that. The box did.” He walked away.

“Oh, so the box just magically flew through the air. Now I get it. I didn’t know you knew magic, Bollard.”

He sighed as he set the small first aid kit down on a table as I followed him. “Yes, I kicked the box, but I was angry about something. I wasn’t trying to hit you.”

He turned quickly, and his elbow almost collided with my chest. I jumped back. “What is your problem?” I snapped at him.

“What?”

“You almost hit me again!” I replied. He closed his eyes, shaking his head slightly as if annoyed. “Don’t be angry with me because someone upset you.”

He scoffed, “You don’t know the half of it.”

Nope, I didn’t, but little ole me who always wanted to help suddenly wanted him to tell me what was wrong—maybe I should have been the psychologist and not my sister. “Why are you upset? Did someone do something to you?”

“The owner told me today that he’s selling the tavern.” He frowned at me, his brow lining all the way across.

“I’m sure the new owners will keep you on if that’s what you are worried about.”

“No, I wanted to buy the place. I asked Howard to give me three years, and I would be better able to purchase it, but no, he had to go behind my back and sell it to some city creep. Now some stuffy asswad is coming here to inspect the property, and I have to show them around. It’s the last thing I want to do.” I blinked and then blinked again, and he huffed a sigh and lifted his hand like he was going to check my cheek. “What are you doing here anyway? You know we aren’t open.”

I stuck my hand out to him. “Hi, I’m the stuffy asswad that will inspect the property.”

His eyes went wide, making the brown a lighter color, almost like cinnamon, and he dropped his face down and muttered, “Well, fuck!”

CHAPTER TWO

MICHAEL

My boss was a fucking asshat. He knew I wanted to buy the tavern. That was why I had taken the out from the club. I was getting too old to keep running with them, and it was time to get legit. About the time that Ryan Vigilante had joined our charter, I realized that I was over it. I wanted to find a way to hang up my leathers without being six feet underground.

Running drugs, fucking nameless women at drunken clubhouse parties, hiding from the cops, and always having to watch my back from rivals was no longer fun. I was about to turn thirty-nine and was ready for more out of life, maybe even a steady woman.

After Ryan, or Vigil, as we called him, was killed, several guys from the charter and other charters were arrested for drug trafficking and other offenses. Somehow, I managed to avoid the cuffs, and seeing all those guys doing time made me seriously start thinking. Did I want to spend the rest of my life behind bars getting the only sexual fulfillment from my hand or shafting a guy when he bent over for the soap?

That answer was a hard no.

I sighed as I thought about Vigil again while unpacking the bottles from the boxes in the basement storage. Vigil had gotten involved with Cara Winston, and I envied the hell out of their relationship. Not once had I felt half of what I could see those two were sharing. It was a shame that Vigil had died. I bet if he were still alive, he would have left the club too, and he and Cara would be happily married with a little rug rat by now.

I carried the boxes up the stairs and dropped one at the top, kicking it toward the back door. I stood near the kitchen and glanced around. I honestly thought Howard would give me the time to buy this place. I had saved money over the years, but I needed more. Unfortunately, I didn’t have enough credit to mortgage the entire business, and I needed another hundred grand before the bank would approve a loan.

I was going to lose my chance at my dream. Frustration raced through me, and I turned and kicked the box out the door and heard someone scream. I darted out the door to see Candy Winston with a shocked look on her face and holding her cheek.

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