by Kyle, Celia
She left the rest of her dismissal unspoken and returned her attention to her nearly empty beer. Newman stared at her for a long moment, probably not believing she’d meant what she said, and then finally sighed in disappointment and returned to his old barstool, utterly defeated.
With that distasteful chore completed, Valerie drifted back into her own thoughts. She’d wake up bright and early the next morning—assuming she didn’t stay up all night with nightmares about Michael J. Fox—and head over to the school where Chloe taught. Surely someone there would know how to track down her friend.
She was jolted out of her thoughts when Hux set her greasy burger down in front of her, followed by a shot of amber liquid. Confused, she looked up at the bartender. “What’s this?”
“Tequila,” Hux answered brusquely.
“I can smell that much, but I didn’t order it.”
He jerked his head toward Newman, who was holding up his own identical shot in a grinning salute. It was a nice gesture, so instead of sending it back, she gave him a neutral nod of gratitude and downed the shot without so much as a grimace. It wasn’t top-shelf, but it wasn’t remotely close to the nastiest she’d ever tasted. That honor was reserved for the homemade rotgut she’d shared with some locals in Guatemala a few years earlier. That shit had burned all the way down… and through!
As warmth spread through her body, Hux moved to refill the glass, but Val grabbed the top of the glass. She preferred to keep a relatively clear head, even when she was supposed to be on “vacation.” Safer that way.
Hux shrugged and ambled off, and just as Val loosened her fingers to release the shot glass, Fang snarled. A split second later, a very large hand grabbed Valerie’s shoulder. What happened next came from pure instinct.
Without taking even a moment to think, Val’s right hand tightened its grip on the shot glass as she jabbed her left elbow up and back, connecting hard with someone’s nose in a satisfying crunch. In one fluid motion, she spun around on her stool and smashed the butt-end of the shot glass into the broad forehead of…Newman! The guy let out a yelp of pain and then toppled to the floor like a fallen tree. Wide-eyed and heart pounding, Val winced when she saw he was flat on his back, knocked out cold.
Uh oh, not good.
When Newman fell, he’d bumped into another patron, who’d spilled his beer on the guy next to him. That guy didn’t care for that one bit, so he took a swing at the guy Newman had bumped. In a matter of minutes, the entire bar had erupted into an all-out brawl. And it was all her fault.
“Shit, not again!” she muttered, grabbing her bag and tucking Fang deep into its recesses.
Digging a twenty out of her pocket, she threw it on the bar, took as big of a bite from her burger as her mouth could hold, and ducked as a chair flew over her head and into the mirror behind the bar.
The sound of shattering glass was her cue.
Using her training, she looked for the safest route out of the bar and edged her way around the room, ducking and side-stepping as needed. When she reached the back door, she didn’t hesitate to push it open. She’d dash to her Jeep, race back to the Lupine Inn to grab her bag, and then hightail it out of this godforsaken town. Chloe would understand.
But the moment the chilly night air cooled her overheated skin, she stopped in her tracks. A large man in a cop uniform blocked her escape.
Behind her, Hux shouted, “That’s her, Levi! She’s the one who started all this!”
How in the hell had Hux gotten the cops to the bar so fast? Dammit.
Valerie knew better than to resist a police officer. She sat quietly and safely ensconced in the back of his cruiser—handcuffed and completely pissed off—until he finally managed to break up the fight. Once they were on the road for the station, she asked for her phone call.
His dark brown eyes glanced at her in the rearview mirror, a smirk on his face. “Let me guess. Your lawyer?”
“No,” Val snapped. With Tremble being so small, she figured everyone knew everyone’s business and hoped the cop knew how to get in touch with her BFF. Chloe would bust her out even if a few hundred miles separated them. “Chloe Soren. Ever heard of her?”
She caught the wince as it crossed the man’s face. “Shit.”
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About the Authors
Celia Kyle
Ex-dance teacher, former accountant and erstwhile collectible doll salesperson, New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Celia Kyle now writes paranormal romances. It goes without saying that there’s always a happily-ever-after for her characters, even if there are a few road bumps along the way. Today she lives in central Florida and writes full-time with the support of her loving husband and two finicky cats.
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Marina Maddix
New York Times & USA Today Bestselling Author Marina Maddix is a romantic at heart, but hates closing the bedroom door on her readers. Her stories are sweet, with just enough spice to make your mother blush. She lives with her husband and cat near the Pacific Ocean, and loves to hear from her fans.
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Copyright © 2018-2019 by Celia Kyle & Marina Maddix
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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