Blind Fury

by Gwen Hernandez

  “The law doesn’t apply to the bar area if they keep it separately ventilated from the restaurant,” he said. He’d frequented them enough to know.

  “Oh,” she said, wrinkling her nose in distaste. She looked around, her eyes landing on an air hockey table before she turned to him. “Can we play?”

  “Sure, let’s get our drinks first.” He ordered two beers and met her at the table, choosing the side that faced the front entrance. Digging into his pocket, he pulled out the quarters he’d gotten from the bartender and handed them to her.

  “Thanks.” She got everything set up and placed the puck on the table, leaning forward to push it to him.

  The move provided him with a quick glimpse of her bra, and he faltered, almost missing the puck as it glided in his direction. They went back and forth, the flat disk pinging off the bumpers with a high-pitched tink until he finally sunk a shot into her goal. He downed half his beer and did a quick check for any new patrons.

  Jenna took a couple of swigs from her bottle, unable to hide her brief grimace in response to the bitter flavor. She swallowed, then set her drink down, giving him a dazzling smile. What was it about her? One smile could reduce him to a teenager in heat.

  She was beyond distracting, and Mick missed some easy shots. And he wasn’t the only one who was noticing her charms. A couple of guys sitting in a nearby lounge area were enjoying the view, especially when she reached across the table. She won the game, celebrating with a little squeal of delight, and one of the men whistled. “Nice job, Blondie!”

  Red crept up her neck and into her cheeks, but she grinned and faced the group, finishing her beer off with a quick gulp. “Thanks. Who wants to play me next?”

  A dark-haired man with muscles to spare rose and walked toward them, his eyes never leaving her face. “I’ll play.” He nodded toward Mick without breaking eye contact. “If it’s all right with your boyfriend.”

  Jenna glanced from Mick to the interloper. “Oh, no, he’s not my boyfriend,” she said with a giggle. “I’m not his type.”

  The man looked at him with disbelief. Mick forced himself to nod, even as something ugly worked its way through his blood. He couldn’t afford to act out or lose his cool. The guy was right to think he was crazy. This beautiful woman had offered herself up on a platter for him today…and he’d turned her down.

  Not only that, he’d insulted her. Oh yeah, and he was lying to her.

  “I’m Brad.” The man reached out and shook Jenna’s hand.

  She smiled. “Jenna. You ready?”

  No way was Mick going to stand there watching them like an idiot. Not that he’d let her out of his sight. She could still be in danger. He approached Jenna. “Want another beer?”

  “It’s on me,” Brad said, handing Mick a ten like he was some kind of waiter.

  “Thanks,” Jenna said. She turned away, dismissing him altogether.

  Well, Brad had swooped in quickly. And Jenna had come out of her shell a little more than Mick would have liked. What had happened to the shy girl who didn’t even have the confidence to flirt? He preferred her. He could handle her. As he stood at the bar waiting for his drinks, he checked out every person in the large, plus-sign-shaped room. The bartender brought him the bottles, and as he stepped away to make change, a familiar face walked in the front door.

  Smitty. Mick tensed. This was why he’d come, but now that he had the man in his sights, he was having trouble controlling his rage. He turned away and strode back toward Jenna and her new buddy, setting her beer and Brad’s money on the corner of the game table.

  “Thanks,” she said, her eyes on the puck as it ricocheted around the table and finally into her goal. “Oh, crap.”

  He took the opportunity to whisper into her ear. “I see someone I need to talk to. Will you be okay here with your new friend for a few minutes?”

  Her eyes met his, and he could’ve sworn he saw disappointment there. What did she want from him? If this whole little show with Brad was her attempt to make him jealous, it was working, but he wasn’t going to be manipulated. If she wanted to blow off some steam, fine. She should enjoy her newfound confidence and leave him out of it.

  She nodded and grasped the white disk from its return slot, placing it on the table.

  “Don’t go anywhere that I can’t see you. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  “Have fun,” she said in a flat tone and then smacked the puck across the table.

  Shit. This was why he didn’t want long-term involvement with her or any woman. Emotions were messy and they complicated everything. Give him a no-strings-attached fuck any day over a relationship.

  Relaxing his muscles as much as possible, he strolled toward Smitty, who was watching a group of people play pool.

  The man’s face was red and he was leaning against a support column. “Nice shot.” He raised his glass as one player sank a striped ball in the corner pocket. The men ignored him, but he didn’t seem to notice. He swayed on his feet a bit before taking a sip and bumping back into the post. Had he started drinking before he arrived?

  Mick walked right up next to him, undetected. Bruises were still faintly visible on Smitty’s ugly face, and Mick had the small satisfaction of knowing he’d put them there.

  “Long time no see, Smitty,” Mick said.

  The man jumped and the remainder of his drink sloshed onto the cement floor. “What are you doing here?” he asked, eyes wide.

  “You and I have some unfinished business.”

  Smitty backed away, glancing around for help that wasn’t there. He’d come in alone. “You can’t touch me in here, man. They’ll call the cops.”

  “I have no intention of touching you.” Although he could easily imagine shoving his fist through that oversized target of a nose. His hands clenched with intent, but he shook them out. Relax.

  Mick shoved his hands in his pockets. “I just want to talk.”

  Jenna tried to ignore Mick and enjoy the attention of her new friend, Brad. When was the last time she’d felt this sexy and interesting? And why couldn’t she be happier about it?

  She finished off her beer, the second in less than an hour, and her brain was buzzing. The hockey puck slid past her again, sinking into the goal with a metallic thunk.

  “My game,” Brad said, coming around the table. “You want another drink?”

  “Not right now, thanks.” Unable to help herself, she glanced over at Mick and the man he had backed into a corner. Mick’s jaw was hard, his shoulders tense, and he looked ready to spring. When he’d told her he needed to talk to someone, she’d expected a woman. She was relieved that it wasn’t.

  “He’s really not your boyfriend?” Brad asked. “Because the way you guys look at each other…”

  Not for lack of trying. She sighed and gave Brad her full attention. “No. He’s just a friend. An overprotective one, for sure, but nothing else.”

  “Well, he’s crazy. You’re the prettiest woman here.”

  “Thanks.” She wasn’t sure that was much of a compliment, but she’d take it. Men didn’t often go out of their way to call her pretty.

  Brad wandered over to an empty love seat and set his beer on a low table. Jenna followed. In the corner, Mick was staring down the man with the big nose, his handsome profile harsh in the dark room. Could this be the infamous Smitty that he’d been looking for? Had he only agreed to bring her here to confront this guy?

  She slumped back against the leather cushion. “So, Brad, what do you do?” Please, anything but security or military.

  “I’m a physical therapist. How about you?”

  Perfect. A nice, normal job. No high-risk assignments, guns, or long deployments. “As of today, I’m an unemployed programmer. I’m here to celebrate my freedom.”

  He gave her a confused look, apparently not sure if she was serious. “Well, congratulations, I guess.”

  “Thanks.” She stood up. “You know what? I think maybe I will get another drink. I’ll be right b
ack.” When she reached the bar she ordered another beer. Her last—otherwise she was likely to pass out.

  “Hey,” Brad whispered into her ear from behind. “I’ll get that.” He leaned forward to throw down some bills and sandwiched her gently against the bar.

  That’s when it became clear. Brad might be nice and normal and attractive, but he didn’t interest her. Not really. If Mick had pulled that move, sparks would have shot across her skin and her legs would have gone weak. If it had been Mick, she would have turned to face him, threaded her arms around his neck, and pulled him down for a kiss…

  A crash followed by a shout drew her attention to the other side of the room. Mick was sprawled across a pool table, Big Nose towering over him with his fist drawn back. Mick was holding the guy off with one arm, yelling something she couldn’t make out. What the hell was going on?

  Jenna squirmed away from Brad, heading toward the gathering crowd. She wriggled through the onlookers just in time to see Mick push to his feet and land a blow on the other man’s nose. Blood spurted everywhere, and the man roared before throwing a kick to Mick’s stomach.

  Mick stumbled back and doubled over with one arm across his middle before coming in for another charge. “I should have killed you when I had the chance, asshole.” He pummeled Big Nose’s face.

  Momentarily stunned, Jenna stood rooted to the floor, unable to believe the ferocity on Mick’s face and the violence of his fists. Without a conscious thought, she stepped forward and put a hand on his shoulder. “Mick, stop!”

  Startled, he used his elbow to shake her off. “Get back!” He connected with her solar plexus, knocking the wind out of her, and she stumbled into a pair of strong arms. Brad. Mick glanced her way and his jaw went slack, but she couldn’t breathe, much less process his response.

  Brad helped her into a chair, concern furrowing his brow. “Are you okay?”

  She shook her head. Her chest hurt, and panic began to set in as she struggled to make her lungs work. Oh, God, why wouldn’t they work? She was dying, and Mick had killed her. It was like drowning without water, and she clutched her shirt collar, desperate for oxygen. Tears ran down her cheeks as the seconds ticked by, whole lifetimes measured out by the smallest hand of a clock.

  “Relax, Jenna. It’s okay. If you panic it will only get worse.” Brad squeezed her shoulders gently. “Sit up and take a slow breath.”

  Oh, how she wanted to, but she couldn’t. She shook her head. How could he be so calm when she was dying?

  “Jenna, look at me.”

  Their gazes locked and she focused on the deep brown of his eyes. Why couldn’t she love this man? This handsome, friendly physical therapist who thought she was pretty and bought her beer. Who handled crises with calm strength instead of causing them? Whose gently kneading hands and softly spoken words were helping her relax in spite of herself.

  And all of a sudden, she could breathe again. She gulped in huge lungfuls of air, afraid it would stop coming.

  “Oh my God, Jenna.” Mick slid into place beside her, kneeling next to her chair. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hit you. I was just trying to keep you from getting hurt.” His gaze roamed over her. “Are you all right?” He reached up to wipe the tears from her cheeks, but she jerked her head away from his bloody hands. Staring at his palms as if they belonged to someone else, he stood and wiped them on his shirt, backing away. “Jesus, I’m sorry. I—“

  “Why don’t you leave her alone?” Brad suggested, cutting him off.

  For a minute, Mick looked like he might take on Brad, too, but instead he nodded and stepped away, keeping an eye on Big Nose, who was leaning heavily against the wall holding his face while the crowd looked on in disbelief.

  A small commotion near the front of the pool hall drew everyone’s attention.

  “Shit.” Mick slumped into a chair and closed his eyes as four policemen entered the bar.

  An hour later, Mick opened the door to his condo and waved Jenna through. She still wasn’t talking to him. He didn’t blame her. Not only had he ruined her night, he’d freaking elbowed her in the chest. The look on her face after he’d connected—the shock, the hurt, the pain—had broken through his angry haze and wrung his heart out. And it had probably saved him from killing Smitty.

  Mostly, he was glad about that. Mostly.

  Damn the man for getting physical. All Mick had wanted was answers. Okay, maybe that’s not all he’d wanted, but questioning the asshole was all he’d intended to do, no matter how satisfying breaking his nose had been. To his surprise, Smitty had declined to press charges, though it wouldn’t have been a clear-cut case anyway. After all, Smitty had started the fight. Since no damage had been done to the bar, the cops had released them both after taking the report.

  Jenna set down her purse and marched into the kitchen, where she poured herself a glass of water and leaned against the counter, staring into her drink. Somehow, he needed her to trust him again. Or, barring that, he at least needed her to feel safe with him.

  He’d start by cleaning up. He dashed to the bathroom and emerged five minutes later, bloodstain-free. Jenna was still standing in the kitchen.

  Approaching cautiously, Mick cleared his throat and leaned against the fridge. “I’m sorry, Jay. Really.” What else could he say? His feelings were stronger than that, but he had no way to express them, no way to make her understand.

  “You said that already.” Without looking at him, she doused the sink sponge and began wiping down the counters, picking up the can opener, the toaster, and the knife block in succession to clean under them.

  He moved in behind her and grabbed her hands. “Stop.”

  “Fine.” She yanked free of him and moved to the living room, leaving behind the fresh scent of her shampoo mingled with a hint of cigarette smoke.

  “I’m sorry about Brad. I know you wanted to have fun tonight and I ruined it.” Although, he wasn’t really sorry about Brad. He’d wanted to punch him almost as much as he’d been gunning for Smitty.

  She turned and gave him an incredulous expression and let out a bitter laugh. “You think this is about Brad?” She shook her head slowly. “You think I’m so desperate that I’d go home with someone I just met in a bar?” Pink splotches colored her cheeks and she straightened to her full height as she said, “That may be your style, but it’s not mine.”

  Ouch. He had no response to that. Apparently, he had no response for anything tonight.

  “Beyond that,” she continued, her voice rising, “has it not occurred to you that I might be a little upset that you got into a fistfight?”

  His throat tightened. “I didn’t intend for that to happen. I just wanted to ask him a few questions.”

  She hesitated, and he could almost see the gears working as she cocked her head and stared at him thoughtfully. “Is he the real reason we went to that bar in the first place?”

  She’d figured him out. Maybe even before the police had mentioned that the man’s name was Alan Smith. “I wanted you to have a good time, but I thought I could use the opportunity to talk to Smitty too. I wasn’t planning to—“

  “Murder him?” she asked.

  Well, yeah, that. He couldn’t look her in the eyes anymore. She read him too well.

  An exasperated sigh hissed through her teeth. “What’s going on? What’s so important about this guy, Mick?”

  He glanced up. Mistake. The pleading in her eyes nearly undid him, but he held his ground. She didn’t know what she was asking. “That’s between me and him.”

  “Does this have something to do with the pictures? Are you investigating this yourself?” She put her hands on her hips and stared him down. “Were you ever planning to tell me?”

  “It’s not about you, Jay. It’s about me.” She didn’t get it—he didn’t want her to—but he was walking a fine line here. “There’s nothing to tell.”

  “There has to be something. You were ready to kill him.”

  The scary thing is that he mi
ght have. He’d wanted to, after Smitty slammed him into that table. Who was he kidding? He still wanted to.

  What did that say about him?

  There was real fear in Jenna’s eyes when she looked at him, and he hated himself for that. He’d never wanted to hurt her or have her see him like that. Taking her to Smitty’s hangout had been a bad idea. One of his worst. Right up there with wanting to yank her to the floor and rip her clothes off.

  But his need to keep watch over her at all times was trapping them both. He couldn’t keep her safe if he was off hunting down Smitty, and his sense of duty wouldn’t let him pawn her off on someone else while he did. That, and he didn’t want to leave her.

  Maybe he owed her something. A small nugget to satisfy her curiosity. He expelled a long breath. “You’re right. I wanted to ask him about the smuggling, but I couldn’t be direct about it because I didn’t want him to know you had evidence.” Mick ran a hand through his hair. “The little asshole wouldn’t tell me anything. He just came at me.”

  Her face softened a little and she crossed her arms, shifting her weight to one foot. “Did it occur to you that maybe he was goading you into hitting him? If you go to jail, you’re off his back and no one’s the wiser.”

  Yeah, the thought had crossed his mind. Later. When he was thinking rationally again. But that made Smitty a first class idiot, because he could have gotten himself killed.

  “He was drunk and not thinking clearly. If he’d been sober, he wouldn’t have provoked me. Smitty’s no genius, but he knows how much I hate him.”

  “And why do you hate him so much?”

  In spite of himself, Mick chuckled. “You’re a good interrogator. Ever thought of being a cop?”

  She put her hands on her slim hips. “I must not be that good. I can never get the truth out of you.”