by Mazzy King
Inside, hip-hop’s already blaring from the DJ booth—something new by Drake. I join Jeremy at the door and lean against the frame.
He grins at me, though it’s lost beneath his gigantic gray-streaked, mountain-man beard. “How’s it goin’, champ? How’s your mom?”
I nod. “She’s always doing a little bit better every day. I just wish she was healing up faster than she is.”
“Ah.” Jeremy waves a dismissive hand, then reaches up to straighten his thick, black ribbed beanie on top of his bald head. “A late-fifties woman who broke both her arms and her legs, and now just six months later she’s up and mostly walking? That shit is a miracle, brother.”
One corner of my mouth curls up. Jeremy is a grizzled metal-head teddy bear, and I can always count on him for some uplifting words. “You’re right. Thanks, Jer.”My gaze drifts to the exterior of the building behind him. Something’s missing.
I point over his shoulder. “That help-wanted sign’s gone.”
He nods. “Yeah, we had a girl stop by today, said she was looking for a job. Marty interviewed her for the server job and then hired her on the spot.”
I shake my head. “She knows what she’s getting into, I hope.”
Jeremy shrugs a meaty shoulder. “I assume so. She has eyes. Although she did seem kinda…I dunno, innocent to be working here. Sweet. Lost, for sure.”
“But you said she was here for the job.”
“No.” Jeremy taps his chest over his heart with a finger. “Lost.”
“Damn, man, it’s too early to be getting all deep on me and making me feel feelings,” I complain, gently slugging him on the arm.
Jeremy shrugs again. “Calls ’em like I sees ’em.” He flicks his head toward a crowd of frat boys coming toward the entrance. He and I ID them all, wristband them, and take their cover fees. They’re already more drunk than sober, but as long as they can walk and they’re not being belligerent dicks, I’ll let them be.
A couple of them give me knowing shit-eating grins, which tells me they know who I am, and they’d love to try to take a piece of me. I fight on Fridays only, so they’ve missed their chance for the week. Marty tried to make me fight on Saturdays too, but I put my fucking foot down. If I’m gonna get slugged, I need a full day to heal before I show up to the unit. I have a few tricks and some salves that help the appearance of the violence I sometimes inevitably take, but it needs time to work.
Still, the guys are loud and raucous. If I can hear them over the music, they’re being too fucking loud. I glance at Jeremy and we exchange a silent, knowing look. He ticks his chin toward the group, and I nod and step inside behind them, standing near the doorway with my arms folded, watching them.
Then…I see her.
First a tray with drinks appears between the group of guys. Then I see the slender arm attached to the tray, and then finally the owner of the arm as she pushes her way through them. For a second, the bar scene winds down to nothing at all as I focus in on her, my heart suddenly thundering in my ears.
A petite thing with generous curves in the best places. Straight brown hair cut in an angled, shoulder-length bob. The fullest lips I’ve ever seen. High, sculpted cheekbones.
She’s the most gorgeous girl I’ve ever laid eyes on.
She’s dressed in a The Pit T-shirt, the sleeves cuffed, the bottom cut off to show her tight waist and flat belly. Snug black jeans follow the luscious curves of her ass and hips and thighs and end just above the high tops of a pair of black Chucks.
For a second, she glances up and her eyes meet mine.
It’s corny, but in that instant, I swear the rest of the world fades away.
Then a couple of the rough-housing frat boys shove each other into our line of sight, and when they move, she’s already heading toward the back bar with an empty tray.
It takes me a couple of seconds to get my shit together and move from the spot I’m rooted in. “Wow,” I mutter to myself. “Wow.”
I turn toward the door. Suddenly, I could use some fresh air. But I can’t help glancing over my shoulder in her direction.
I can’t see her, but I can feel her.
Lost, Jeremy called her.
Let me be the one to find you.
3
Blair
My hand trembles as I reach for the next order of drinks to load them on my tray. The most insanely good-looking guy I’ve ever seen in my twenty-six years of living is right here under the same roof with me, and I am internally freaking out.
“What’s up with you, sweetie pie?” Honey asks, peering at me. That’s not her real name, she told me earlier today when I came in to apply. She won’t tell me what it is and says it doesn’t matter. I chalk it up to her smooth, honey-brown skin and equally smooth singing voice, which I’ve had the pleasure of listening to while she crafts cocktails.
Tonight, Honey’s working the back bar and the kitchen area, where I’m serving all the drinks made from orders I took from seated customers, as well as the small-bite, pub-style appetizers available here. The front bar is where people order their drinks and carry them off themselves. She fluctuates between the two, but since she’s training me, she’s sticking around here.
I shake my head, loading the cocktails going to a table of young professional women. “I just—saw someone. Uh. I think he works here?”
“Bald and bearded or a hot, young piece of ass?”
I smile. “I met Jeremy earlier. He’s nice. I guess I’m talking about…the other one.”
“The Axe,” she says with a nod.
“His name is ‘The Axe’?”
She gives me a knowing smile. “Axel. He bounces here, but he’s also a fighter once a week, when the bar closes and everyone sneaks in for the cage fights.”
“C-cage fights?”
Honey rolls her eyes. “You met Marty. Therefore, you know he’s an asshole. He started holding these fights when he realized he could get lots of under-the-table cash for them, letting dudes who think they’re big and bad take Axel on. He’s in the military. He knows some serious shit. No one’s beat him yet. Hot, huh?”
That sounds terrifying, actually, but I decide not to mention it. It doesn’t take away from that gorgeous face of his, though—that square jaw, slightly crooked nose, and lush lips I could sink my teeth into. I pegged him as possibly military too, with that high-and-tight haircut that’s just a teensy bit long on top. And though he’s wearing a black hoodie and jeans, I can tell he’s built like a tank. I wouldn’t want to meet him in a cage.
Maybe a more intimate setting…
“Yikes,” I mutter to myself.
“I know,” Honey says, misunderstanding me. “He’s a badass, through and through. But he’s real nice—for him. Kinda brusque. But quiet. Polite.” She smiles again and wiggles her brows. “A little tormented. I like my white boys broody, you know what I’m sayin’?”
I have to laugh.
“All right. Let’s get those ladies sauced.” Honey sets the last drink on the tray, and I tote it over to the young women who cheer when they see me.
The rush seems to slow for a bit, as people near the front of the bar are steadily ordering from the two bartenders up there, and the people seated at tables in the back are in the middle of enjoying their drinks. I take the opportunity to rush to the ladies’ room, which I’ve been dying to use for the last twenty minutes.
When I’m finished, I head out and down the short hallway toward the bar—except a tall figure is blocking the entryway. He’s leaning on the wall right next to the bar as if he’s talking with Honey. His back’s to me.
It’s him. The Axe.
There’s no way to squeeze by him without him noticing.
As I near, I can hear bits of his conversation with Honey.
“…her name?” he’s saying.
“Why you wanna know?” Honey says in a slightly teasing voice.
One of his big shoulders lifts. “I know everyone who works here.”
“Her
name’s Blair. And don’t try to act like you’re just taking names to be thorough.”
My cheeks flush. I can’t believe he’s asking about me.
“I don’t know what you mean,” he says.
“Boy, please. We all got eyes. She’s a cute lil’ thing, isn’t she?”
He doesn’t say anything. I imagine he’s giving Honey a look. She laughs then, so I suspect I’m right.
Now I feel like a creep for eavesdropping. I reach up and tentatively tap him on the arm. And oh my god. It’s so hard and muscular.
He whirls around, his gaze immediately fastening on me. He’s got to be over six feet. I’m on the shrimpy side at five-foot-four, and he’s damn near a foot taller than me.
If he’s surprised to see me, he doesn’t show it. His face is totally impassive.
“Hi,” I say meekly. “Uh, excuse me.”
“No, excuse me.” He angles his body to let me pass through the narrow space. “Hey, um. I’m Axel, by the way. I’m a bouncer.”
“I’m Blair,” I tell him, and offer my hand.
His gaze drops to it, then he reaches out and gently grasps it in his. His hands are veined, rough, calloused—fighter’s hands for sure, and they feel as strong as they look. And yet, the way he holds my hand is as though I’m something fragile he’s taking care not to break.
“Nice to meet you,” he says, raising his eyes to mine again.
God, is he beautiful.
Up close, his skin is smooth, no facial hair—another indicator of military service. There’s a light scar on the right side of his forehead. It looks old but makes me wonder if he’s had it for a while. It also gives him a major bad boy vibe, at variance with his cleanshaven face.
“You too,” I manage.
He flicks his head in the general area of the bar. “You like it here?”
I huff and shrug. “I mean, it’s a job, right? I just got let go from my last job, so money’s money. How about you? How long have you worked here?”
“Few months,” he replies. “I’m not originally from Port City, but I moved here for the military.”
“Oh yeah?” I say. “My brother’s in the military. What branch—”
“Sweetie pie,” Honey says loudly. “Order up, babe.”
“Better let you get back to work,” Axel says. He shoots a half-grin at Honey. “Don’t want to upset the queen.”
She points a finger at him. “And don’t you ever forget that.”
“Nice talking to you,” he adds, giving me a lingering look before turning and heading back toward the door.
I gawk after him for a moment, then shake myself and turn to load up my tray again. “He seems nice.”
“He’s a good guy, under that grumpy exterior.” Honey glances at me. “You’re still smiling.”
“I’m not smiling. Why would I be smiling?”
She snorts, then turns to grab a couple bottles of beer from the fridge. “Girl, please. You’re cheesin’.”
I guess I am smiling, I realize as I turn to serve my tray of drinks.
And I can’t seem to stop.
The bar closes at two, and then cleanup begins. The group of obnoxious frat boys is the last to leave. They’re all borderline belligerent, and they’ve been heckling the bartenders at the front. Loud shouting draws me from the back to see what’s going on.
Axel and Jeremy are bodily shoving the guys out the door. One of them turns and shoves Jeremy so hard, he crashes into a few stools and lands on his ass.
I rush over and kneel at his side. “You okay?”
He nods, rubbing the back of his head. “I wasn’t paying attention to him. I was watching the other guy. Should’ve seen that one coming.”
Axel is less understanding about it.
He grabs the customer by the back of the shirt and wheels him around, sending him flying out the door. “You come back here again, me and you can do that dance in the alleyway, you understand?”
“Fuck you,” a few of the guys shout, drunkenly staggering off.
Axel shakes his head and shuts and locks the door. He walks over to us, where Jeremy’s getting to his feet. “You all right, Jer?”
Jeremy winces, rubbing his backside. “That fall on my ass sure hurt.”
“I’m more concerned about that bald-ass noggin of yours,” Axel says good-naturedly. “Did you hit your head?”
“Not too hard. I’ve taken harder punches.”
I meet Axel’s gaze. He gives me a slight nod as if to say, he’ll be okay.
I return to the kitchen tucked behind the back bar, where I help Honey and the two cooks clean up dishes. Then we straighten up the bar, stack chairs on the tables, and mop the floors.
By the time we’re done, it’s three thirty, and I’m exhausted.
Honey doles out a wad of cash from the tips we collected all night. It looks like way more than what I actually earned. “Get on home, sweetie pie,” she says, thumbing toward the door at the back of the kitchen. “We got the rest. You did a great job tonight.”
“Thanks,” I tell her with a smile, and grab my jacket and messenger bag.
I duck out the back door into an alley. To my left is the main street where the bar entrance is located. I access my Uber app to find a ride, sighing. Yet another reason why getting a car is now imperative—I can’t keep shelling money out for rides every night.
My driver confirms the ride and directs me to a spot a couple blocks up from where I am. I tuck my phone away and start heading in that direction.
I’ve gone a block when a car, not the one I’m looking for, starts to creep alongside me. I frown at it, then pick up my pace. Just as I’m about to step into the crosswalk, the car rounds the corner with a squeal of tires and blocks my path.
The passenger door opens—and it’s one of the assholes from the bar.
“Hey, cutie,” he says, stepping toward me. “Off work? Come party with us. We’ve been watching you all night.”
My stomach curdles. “No, thanks.”
“Come on. Please?” he wheedles, as if that helps his case. “It’ll be fun. We’re lots of fun. Brody has a pole in his living room. We wanna see what you can do.”
I take a step back. “No.”
From inside the car, I hear a guy hiss, “She’s about to run. Get her.”
What the fuck?
I whirl around, but before I can take a step, a charcoal-gray truck roars up the street toward us. There’s something familiar about it, but my adrenaline is pumping so hard I can’t place it.
The truck slams to a stop at the curb and the driver jumps out. The guy from the car, who has taken a handful of steps toward me, freezes.
My jaw drops as I see the driver of the truck round the front of his vehicle.
Axel.
“Blair,” he says calmly. “There you are. Did you still need a ride to Laura’s place? I’m heading there now.”
I have no idea who Laura is. “Yeah, I—I thought you’d left already.”
“Nah,” he says in the same easy tone, opening the passenger door. “Just got caught up for a second.”
Gratitude makes my knees weak. I walk toward him, catching the absolutely malevolent look on his face as he looks at the guy from the car, who’s already started backing up.
“Get the fuck out of here,” Axel growls.
The guy ducks into the car, and it peels off.
I release a breath I don’t even know I’m holding with a huge whoosh. “Thank you,” I whisper, my knees trembling now. “I—I don’t know what was about to happen.”
“I just got in my truck, and I saw you walking, then I saw them following.” He shakes his head. “Pieces of shit. Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” I nod rapidly, trying to convince myself as much as him. “Yeah, they just—they just scared me is all.”
His eyes narrow as he studies me. “I’m sure they did. Listen, from now on, you get me or Jeremy to escort you to your car, okay? It’s just safer that way.”
�
�Yeah.” I nod again. “Um. Thanks.”
“Where’s your car?” he asks, looking around. “I’ll just give you a ride to it.”
“I don’t have a car,” I tell him. “I got an Uber.” I point up the street. The car that matches the one on the app is at the curb.
“An Uber?”
“Yeah, I don’t have a car,” I repeat.
“No. No way.” He gestures inside his truck, which I thought he opened just for show to scare off those guys. “Get in. I’ll take you home.”
“But—but I already paid.”
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a twenty. “Here.”
“I—”
“It’s all right,” he says softly. “Look, I know I’m a stranger too, pretty much, but between me and another stranger taking you home, I’d much rather it be me. I’ll even get Honey to ride with us, if you want, so you feel safe.”
“It’s not that,” I tell him. “I…trust you.”
His eyes soften. “You do?”
I nod. “I just don’t want to take your money.”
“I cost you a ride. So it’s on me. Wait here.” He jogs up the street toward the Uber driver. They talk for a couple seconds, then the car drives off and Axel comes jogging back. “All set.”
Well…hell. It’s probably stupid I’m getting into his truck without knowing any more than his first name, but my instincts tell me he’s a good guy and it’s safe to trust him. He did just rescue me from possibly getting kidnapped too.
I grip the door and the handle at the top of the door frame. It’s a big truck and a really big step up for my small frame, and I cannot get my knees to stop knocking, even though the danger’s gone.
