Dangerous Lies

by A P Foote

  “Here let me help you.” Cass rushes over the bar top, scooping up as many towels he can. “Grab the can over there, I’ll pick up the glass.”

  “It’s fine, I got it. I should’ve been paying better attention.” Shaking my head, I blow out a hard breath. This is what I get for eavesdropping.

  Cool plastic bumps my shoulder startling me, and I look up to see Dalton hovering over me, holding the small trash can in his hand. I reach over with my left hand, grabbing it from him. “Thanks.”

  His enthusiasm has fled. It had to have been from whatever they were talking about. Fucking bottle. If I wouldn’t have dropped it, I might have been able to hear what they were saying. Then again if I wouldn’t have dropped the bottle Dalton might not be walking out the front door right now.

  Cass carefully plucks the glass off the floor, tossing it into the bin. “Don’t worry he’ll be back.”

  I look at him through my lashes, freezing when I catch a glimpse of his face. It’s not Cass. His facial hair isn’t there and he has more tattoos stretching up his neck. “Dalton?”

  He winks finishing with the last of the shards that splintered from the bottle. “Wha—Where the hell did Cass go?”

  Dalton stands, wiping his hands on his jeans. He places the pale on the bar top, turning toward me. “He has something he needs to take care of.”

  “Take care of? We open in…” I look past his head to the clock hanging on the wall. “An hour. Shit.”

  I push by him, b-lining for the office. I have an hour to get home and get ready to open. “What is it?”

  “We open soon and I’m not ready. That’s what it is.”

  “Here,” he grabs his coat off the bar, “I’ll drive you.”

  “No, I’m okay, my car will be faster.” I fling my bag over my shoulder and rush out the door, but Dalton reaches out, grabs my hand pulling me to a stop before I make it all the way out.

  “I have a bike, we’ll be able to weave in and out of traffic better, hence faster.” He shrugs.

  I toss around the idea of getting on the back of a motorcycle with a man I don’t know. It’s not like I haven’t done it before. “Fine but if you lay us over, I’ll kick your ass.”

  “I don’t doubt that.” He smiles and tugs me around the side of the building, opposite of where my car is.

  Clyde

  “Hey boss, got those files you wanted from Pip.” Nix walks around the couch in my office, placing the file on my desk.

  “Did you look at it?”

  “No, figured if you want me to know you’ll tell me.” He shrugs, turning away from me to leave the room.

  “No stay, but this stays between you and me.” I narrow my eyes letting him know I’m serious. I know no one else finds the sudden appearance of this new guy strange, but I do. I’ve learned over the years to trust my gut; not following your instincts is a fast way to get yourself killed.

  I slide the manila folder closer to me, opening it carefully. Pulling out the folder’s contents, the first thing plastered on the front is Cass’s face. Gray words across the top read CONFIDENTIAL.

  I fucking knew it. Bastard is just playing with her. Special Agent Casey Brooks, twenty-seven years old, did seven tours in Afghanistan working with a private contractor. “So, he’s a killer.”

  “Aye boss, I could see it on his face.”

  “Says he has a brother, Dalton Brooks, same age.” The more I read of this the more pissed I get.

  “Twins?”

  I nod, and Nix leans on top of the desk, tapping his metal ring on the wood. “What you want me to do?”

  I sigh weighing my options. On one hand this could work in my favor. I could show this to Kat, and she’d want nothing to do with him, and possibly me for prying. Or I can keep this quiet, use it to my advantage. Keep your enemies close right? “Nothing.”

  “What?” Nix looks perplexed, his eyes wide, jaw hanging open. “There’s a fucking Fed working in your bar!”

  “It’s not my bar anymore, you know that,” I huff lowering my voice. I lean closer to Nix. “We use this. We find out what he’s up to and we use it. If he was here for us, he’d be snooping around here, not wasting his time with someone who says they don’t want me.”

  “That’s not necessarily true, and you know that,” he counters. He’s right. Just because she doesn’t want me, doesn’t mean he didn’t look up her history with the club or that he couldn’t be using her to get to me.

  God, I hate when he’s right, but I don’t believe that. I think something else is going on and Jim had a hand in it. Something bigger than the chapters. Sully’s out of prison and I’m willing to bet my left nut he’s the target.

  “Find out more about this brother of his.” Nix nods standing from the chair. “Nix? Remember, this stays between us, understand?”

  “Aye.”

  Kat

  Where the hell is Cass? He should’ve been back by now. His first night as a real employee and he’s a no show.

  “Woo, where do you want this boss?” Dalton flings a keg onto a chair behind the bar.

  “In the smaller cooler to your left.” He whips his head around in the direction I’m pointing.

  “Kat!” Ugh, it never ends. Dalton is nothing like Cass, he’d know what to do without me having to direct every five minutes and he had only been here one night.

  “Kat!” the annoying woman on the other side of the counter calls me again.

  “Hi, I’m really sorry about that. What can I get for you?” The pretty blonde bats her lashes at me, flipping her long straight hair every two seconds. She flips it left and right, the strands flinging into customers’ drinks. How has no one whooped her ass already? I would have.

  “Can I have a dirty martini?”

  My nose instantly bunches in disgust at her request. She gives me a how dare you look, so, cooling my features, I immediately place a smile back on. I can’t afford to piss the women who come here off, or I’ll lose a lot of business.

  “Coming right up.”

  The martini glasses hang from their cooling station in the cooler and, reaching for the closest one, I gently place it on the counter when all I really want to do is smash it against her face. I don’t like her, but for the life of me don’t understand why.

  I pour a half ounce of vermouth and another three ounces of gin, followed by olive brine, over ice in a mixing glass, stirring the contents carefully before straining it into the glass and garnishing it with an olive.

  “Here you go, dirty martini.” I smile, placing the drink in front of her. She looks down at the drink then back to me, her jaw ticking.

  “I wanted it shaken, not stirred.” The bitch picks up her glass, extending her arm. Then proceeds to dump the glass over the counter, onto the floor and all over my leather boots.

  Keep calm, don’t kill her, don’t kill her.

  “Sandy, what the hell?” A tall mysterious man approaches from behind her.

  “She made my drink wrong!” the Sandy bitch whines, she sounds like a seven-year-old who was just told no for the first time.

  “So, you dump a drink on her?”

  “It was an accident. She knocked it over handing it to me.”

  Watching this exchange is nauseating. Who on earth would deal with that on a daily basis? I grab a few towels, bending down to clean up the mess, when flesh smacking against flesh grips my attention. Everyone knows there’s no fighting in my bar!

  I bolt upright to see what’s happening. The man who was just arguing with Sandy has a red mark etched on his cheek and his stunned expression is one of surprise and relief.

  “Hey, buddy.” I tap the empty space on the bar in front of him. “You want a beer?”

  “Huh?” He tilts his head toward me.

  “Do you want a beer? On the house.” The man nods and claims the empty seat. “What’ll it be?”

  “Heineken, please.” He blows out a steady breath, seeming to have pried off the monkey hanging on his back.

 
Poor guy, he gets slapped for being a decent human being and more than likely was broken up with. I’ve seen her around town but didn’t know who she was; I know the type though. Rich, pretty, used to every guy fawning over her and appalled when she’s rejected.

  “Here, enjoy.” I can see him better now. His aquamarine eyes give me butterflies when he looks at me. I want to retreat into the cooler to calm down but that can’t happen. I have customers and I know it’s just a reaction from shock of such intimidating eyes. They really are stunning against his olive skin and neatly combed, short dark brown hair.

  He catches me staring and flexes his sharp jaw, before flashing me a seductive smile. Eight months feels like a fucking lifetime when all these sexy men keep popping up everywhere. Making me want them all.

  “Kat! Need some help over here, please.” My eyes loop a hard roll, spinning around to see Dalton struggling ringing up customers’ orders. He’s fumbling with the POS system, dropping glasses on the counter. Ugh he’s a mess.

  “I have to go help him, let me know if you need anything else?”

  The man whose name I still don’t know dips his head in response. God, he’d be perfect for a night.

  I really need to stop thinking like this. Maybe I could call Clyde after work. No! Stop!

  Dalton hands me the ticket. Oh no, he’s going to learn this. I grab his hand guiding it through the system. It’s easier to learn the system with your own hand but we don’t have time to go over it step by step, so this will have to work.

  The rest of the night plays out the same: Dalton struggles, and I help him. It’s not his fault, Cass left us high and dry tonight which has me pissed the hell off. I might just fire his ass before he even starts.

  Mitch had left a message when I left to get dressed, telling me that he wasn’t feeling well and couldn’t make it in for his shift. At least he had the courtesy to tell me. Cass just… bailed. So, in the end it was just me and Dalton. I’m really tempted to just sell this damn place and move to the beach somewhere, away from drama, away from everything and everyone.

  “Penny for your thoughts?” Dalton bumps me with his shoulder, snagging my attention away from cleaning the same spot over and over again off the bar top.

  “Huh? Oh, I’m good, just…”

  “Just what?” His eyes are kind, his smile delectable.

  He might be the perfect person to vent to, or to even just talk about… anything. “Hold on.” Reaching behind me I grab two shot glasses and some courage in the form of Jim Beam. “Sit, I need a drink.”

  He smiles, scooting to the chair on the other side of the counter, slapping his empty palm on the bar top. “Hit me.”

  I’d let him hit something all right. I tip the bottle, poring to the rim in the first one, then doing the same for mine. “This place was my dad’s. Besides me, it was his baby. I couldn’t let it go when he died, so I bought it.”

  “Sounds like a dream.”

  “Yeah, it was for the first few months. I kept most of his employees until they were forced to quit.” I throw back my shot, welcoming the fire burning in my throat. Dalton does the same. I pour us both another.

  “If you were going to keep the place open why wouldn’t they stay?”

  “Ah.” I throw back another shot and refill my glass. “My ex, has more influence than I do.”

  “How’s that possible?” He gives me a questioning stare.

  “Did you see some of those bikers hovering around?” Bracing my left hand against the counter I pour us each another.

  “Yeah.”

  “He’s Bay Lake’s Chapter President.” Third shot down. The whiskey swooshes in my mouth, and Dalton takes another shot. His blue eyes watch me the whole time.

  I’m starting to feel good, really good. The alcohol is starting to kick in faster than I anticipated. I notice Dalton’s eyes begin to gloss over. He’s had as many as I have but it shouldn’t be affecting him as quickly, which leads me to believe he doesn’t drink very often.

  His glass bumps against the table, and my giddy side starting to make an appearance. “You don’t drink much do you?”

  He looks surprised, his eyes widening and his cheeks flush pink. “Is it that obvious?”

  Shit, I hope he didn’t take that as an insult, I so wasn’t meaning it that way. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

  “It’s okay, but… um… I actually haven’t had a drink in eight years.” He leans against the counter, his fingers tapping against the wood. This is the most serious I’ve seen him since before he walked through the door. “I used to hit the bottle pretty hard back in the day. Me and a few friends were at a party and decided to leave; we were all wasted out of our minds. I decided it was time to leave and I was their ride, so we got in my car and took off.”

  Great, he’s an alcoholic and I just killed his sobriety.

  “We had the music turned all the way up, having a great fucking time. I looked back for just a second, one second.” He holds up his pointer finger. “But that’s all it took. I hit a semi head on, and everyone inside the car died but me.”

  Jesus Christ, when I pictured this situation, this was not how it was supposed to go.

  I can tell the pain from that night haunts him. He hides behind a bubbly façade to mask the regret and responsibility he feels for their deaths.

  “I…”

  He waves me off. “No, no you don’t have to say anything. I don’t know why I even told you that, we just met,” he says, twisting the shot gloss over the wood.

  I don’t know why he told me either. I mean, hey I feel honored he feels comfortable enough to tell me about his past, or should I feel guilty for getting him loose enough to tell me?

  I want to console him so bad but… fuck it. Taking a leap of faith, hoping he doesn’t reject my gesture I capture his hand in mine, giving it a gentle squeeze. Thankfully he reciprocates, the corner of his mouth tilting up as he stares absentmindedly at our conjoined hands.

  His hands are rough; they’re the hands of a man who’s been through so much in his life. His fingers entwine with mine, and my pulse picks up from the warmth that blossoms in my chest. I keep my breathing steady. I don’t want to give away how he’s making me feel right now, whether or not it’s the alcohol now isn’t the time.

  “What the hell, man?” Cass’s voice echoes through the empty bar. He’s standing at the front doors and he isn’t alone. The guy from earlier is with him, aqua eyes. What’s he doing here?

  Dalton pulls away from me, wheeling toward his brother. “Relax, bro, we we’re just having a drink.”

  “Relax?” Cass stomps in our direction. “You’re wasted I can see it in your eyes. Eight years and you just throw that away for pussy?”

  Da Faq? Well, it’s nice to know how he really feels; I can’t believe he just said that. Not that he’s wrong but it still stings. Not much fazes me anymore. “Cass I—”

  “No, stop!” He slices his hand through the air to silence me.

  Oh, that’s how we’re playing this?

  “No, you stop. He had three shots that’s it and I wasn’t going to let him drive. You’re overreacting.” My voice cracks betrayingly.

  “I assume he ran his mouth about the accident, so you should know why I’m pissed.” He leans against the bar. “Did you know he went to prison for it? Did he tell you all the shit he had to do in there?”

  “Bro, that’s enough!” Dalton stands, facing off with his twin. It’s like looking at someone argue with them self in a mirror.

  Who does he think he is coming in here yelling at me? You’d think after he found out I’m the daughter of a biker and dated one I’m not some naïve, putative child. “Fuck you, Cass!”

  That got his attention, and those dangerous eyes find their target—me. “You think that scares me? Oh, he’s been to prison, big fucking deal, half this town has. I didn’t know about the accident until after he started drinking. I wasn’t going to pour him anymore after that. But don’t come in here acting all
high and mighty. From what you’ve told me, you’ve had the perfect fucking life, so you couldn’t comprehend the emotion.”

  Rounding the bar, I step between the two brothers. Out of the corner of my eye I see aqua eyes take a tentative step toward us, waiting for a reaction. “Ever have any one’s brains blown all over your face? I have. Ever had to do something that could get you and everyone you care about murdered? I have.” My anger is seething at this point, and if I’m not careful I could say something I can’t come back from.