by Leigh, Lora
How to use her fists. How to use her knees. How to be the rogue that didn’t care what others thought or what they expected from her.
The problem was, she did care. She had always cared. And she was only now realizing it.
“Rogue, dance with me, baby.” An arm snaked around her waist, pulling her against a strong male body. Dressed in camouflage and smelling like week-old sweat.
Rogue wrinkled her nose and pushed away with a forced laugh. “Get a shower, Bubba,” she called back to him. “Soon.”
It was typical. A few feet away a hand reached out to her, laughter, most of it drunken or forced, echoed around her as the customer requested a dance. A smile and polite refusal, and a stronger dislike for where she was.
She was here when she wanted to be back at the restaurant. Where she could make certain Janey or Alex or, God forbid, Natches wasn’t messing with her accounting file or the reservation layout. Where she could dress in something other than denim or leather.
Where Rogue was more than the bar whore she had always allowed everyone to believe.
Damn her pride. It ran wide and deep inside her, that was for damned sure. Four years she had spent here, rubbing it in Nadine Grace’s and Dayle Mackay’s faces that they couldn’t run her out of town. Rubbing it in Zeke’s face that he couldn’t ignore her.
For what? A few one-night stands? A few hours that in the end had left her feeling stark and hollow inside. And hurt. Damn, she hated feeling hurt. It was her weakness. Make her angry and she’d explode and just get it out of her system. Hurt her and it was like her brain short-circuited. She didn’t care for people as a rule, didn’t give them the chance to hurt her because she couldn’t handle that kind of pain. Emotional pain. Rejection. Fuck, she hated rejection.
“Rogue, get your ass behind this bar for me,” Jonesy called out as he lifted his bat from under the counter. “Jason’s got trouble near the door.”
Rogue jumped and jerked the bat out of his grip before he could stop her.
“You man the bar,” she yelled back, adrenaline jangling through her nervous system. “I’ll take care of the trouble.”
She turned and moved away, slapped the bat in one hand, and grinned. She hadn’t had a good rousing fight all year long. That was all she needed to get over this. She could just get mad, get it out of her system, and then get on with her business. She could clear the emotional bullshit out of her head, then get on with getting over Zeke.
“Dammit, Rogue!” She heard Jonesy cursing behind her and flashed him a smile over her shoulder before flipping her hair back and heading for the confrontation evolving close to the bar’s entrance.
She didn’t intend to use the bat. She had never used the bat. She’d used her knee only when she had to, but the times she’d been forced into it had been noted and most men tread warily around her now.
Moving quickly through the crowd, she pushed her way into the circle of customers that surrounded the two men. Billy Joe Wingate and Luke Taylor. Two rawboned country boys with a little too much drink and a whole lot of anger.
“Don’t tell me what to do, fucker!” Billy Joe spat back at the bouncer behind him and sidestepped his grip. “I ain’t goin’ no damned where. Not till this son of a bitch apologizes.” Billy Joe slammed his palms into Luke’s wide chest, sending the other man back several spaces and bouncing against a female customer who slammed into the man behind her.
Oh fight.
“Whoa there. Whoa there.” Rogue jumped between Luke and the woman’s escort, her hands gripping each end of the bat and pressing it hard into the man’s chest. “Hold back. We have it. Jason, get these boys out of here.”
She glanced over her shoulder to see Jason and another bouncer struggling with Billy Joe and Luke.
“Take it outside, dammit,” she yelled over the din as the bouncers dragged the two men to the door. She turned around quickly to the man she was holding back. “Keep your ass in here,” she yelled, pressing against his chest with the bat for emphasis. “Don’t make me have to take your head off, too.”
She pushed away and swung around toward the door where Jason and the other bouncer were struggling with the two young men. Both combatants were a little too drunk and a little too full of adrenaline and anger.
“I said I ain’t leaving here,” Billy Joe yelled out, his hazel eyes wild with anger as he glared at Luke. “Not till you make him apologize.”
“I ain’t apologizing, you stupid little fucker,” Luke screamed back at him. “You want to go dumb over a little bar whore, then you better get used to the truth.”
“She ain’t no whore.”
Rogue was rushing to the door when Billy Joe managed to tear loose from Jason and throw a wild punch at Luke. Rogue chose that moment to push between them and went flying when that fist crashed into her cheekbone.
Stars exploded in front of her eyes as a vicious curse ripped from her throat. Turning, her foot kicked out and up, caught Billy Joe in the chest and knocked him back by maybe a foot. Dammit.
Her face felt shattered. She stumbled after the first instinctive reaction and nearly went to her knees as she shook her head and used the bat against the floor to catch herself.
Dammit. She said enough. She wasn’t here to get a ham-sized fist in her face.
“Get him out of here!” She turned, yelling at Jason as the pain reverberated through her head. Hell, her eyes were going to pop out of their sockets.
Fury surged inside her, hot and deep as she slammed the bat into Billy Joe’s chest, gripping both ends, trying to hold him back as he jerked out of Jason’s hold again. Her boots slid on the wood floor as a chorus of curses and accusations began to ring around her head.
“Billy Joe, enough!” she yelled.
Billy Joe gripped her shoulders, snarled down at her, then drew his fist back, and as far as she was concerned, enough was enough.
Her knee swung up and connected between his heavy thighs as his fist landed at the side of her head. His eyes went wide, a high-pitched whine filling the air as silence suddenly echoed around her, and Billy Joe Wingate went to his knees, his hands now clapped between his thighs.
Rogue’s head was ringing, she swore there were spots in front of her eyes, and she was thanking God that Billy Joe had pulled his punch at the last second.
“Get them the fuck out of my bar!” she yelled at Jason as he gripped the younger man beneath the arms and began dragging him out the door.
The other bouncer, Timmy, was pushing Luke out and Rogue followed with the bat. Adrenaline and anger were pumping inside her. Her head hurt, her eyes hurt, and she was more furious with herself that she had allowed it to happen than she was at Billy Joe for throwing the first punch.
She stalked into the cool air of the night, glaring at the two men as the bouncers tossed them to the blacktop pavement. And of course they came up fighting, fists flying.
Hard hands gripped her shoulders and jerked her around, and she swore she saw Jonesy’s face blur for a precious second.
“Have you lost your damned mind?” he screamed in her face, his expression twisted in fury, his eyes burning with it as he shook her roughly. “Look what the hell they did to your damned face. Damn you. You’ve fucking lost your mind.”
He shook her until her head lobbed on her shoulders, back and forth, and she grew dizzy from the effort it took to retain consciousness. Just as she thought she was going to lose it, an enraged yell sounded behind her. She was jerked away from Jonesy, stumbled, and fell against another hard body.
Helping hands supported her as curses rained around her. Shaking her head, Rogue blinked desperately and fought to make out what was going on around her. When she finally managed to clear her gaze she saw Jonesy laid out on his stomach, Zeke straddling as he locked cuffs around his wrists.
Jonesy was still and silent, but he wasn’t unconscious. He was staring back at her, his gaze filled with resignation and hurt. The kind of hurt fed by betrayal and steeped in emotion.
&
nbsp; “What the hell are you doing?” She jerked away from the hands holding her, pushed back her hair, and stomped over to Zeke as he rose from Jonesy’s back. “Let him go. Now.”
“The hell I will! Have you seen your damned face yet, Rogue? What the hell happened here?”
“He didn’t hit me.” Her hand connected weakly with his chest. “It was those damned yahoos the bouncers are holding for you. Now let him the hell go.”
“He was shaking you,” he yelled into her face, his hands gripping her arms, and she could feel the bruises Jonesy had already left there.
“Yeah, well, what the hell are you getting ready to do?”
Rogue stared up at him, seeing the rage in his brown eyes, the tension in his hard, lean body. Zeke was ready to kill. A muscle ticked along his jaw and his lips were a flat line of anger as he scowled back at her.
“I warned you,” he growled. “The next time he laid his hands on you—”
“Get over yourself!” she yelled back at him. “I can’t have public rights with you, then I’ll be damned if you can have protective ones with me. Now let him go.”
She was in his face, almost nose to nose as his head lowered and he glared down at her. She could feel a heavy breeze whipping around them, feel the attention of the onlookers locked on them.
“Let him go, Gene.” Zeke’s lips pulled back from his teeth in a snarl.
“Let him go?” Gene questioned in amazement. “He was about to break her damned neck, Sheriff.”
“Now.” The order was an animalistic growl that sent a tremor racing up Rogue’s spine. “Get the two that started this shit in lockup and dry them out. Take statements.”
“Uhh, sure, Sheriff,” Gene cleared his throat. “You’re off duty, it’s my call anyway.”
“You’re damned right I’m off duty.” Zeke’s fingers slid into her hair, clenched, and pulled her head back as his arm went around her back, jerking her to him. “And by God, I know how to take advantage of it.”
His lips landed on hers in a kiss so fiery, so filled with hunger that she was left gasping. As quickly as it had begun, it was over. His head lifted, eyes narrowed, he stared back at her intently.
“In public,” he snarled. “Now let’s go, you’re going to the hospital.”
He swung her up in his arms before she could protest and amid the surprised gazes of customers, Jonesy, and Rogue was certain she glimpsed a Mackay or two, he carried her to the pickup he had used the night before. His personal vehicle. The one he had taken her in.
He swung the door open, then pushed her inside, one hand at her rear as he pressed her along the bench seat.
“Buckle up,” he bit out angrily, his voice rough.
“I’m not going to the damned hospital. You try to make me and I promise you’ll regret it.” She buckled up before turning to him and eating him with her eyes. “You damned tattletale. I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“Tattletale?” He twisted the key in the ignition and reversed out of the parking lot with a squeal of tires. “Since when am I a damned tattletale?”
“Since you called Daddy on me,” she sneered. “Oh really, Zeke, did you think that worrying my father would save your ass? Like hell. I’m going to kick your ass.”
She was enraged, furious, and the object of every frustration she had ever had was sitting in the truck beside her.
“And why the hell am I in your truck?” Her hand slapped the dashboard furiously as she turned and stared back at him.
“Because evidently it’s where you damned well belong,” he yelled back at her, his voice rough. “For God’s sake, Rogue, why couldn’t you just go back to Boston?”
That stopped her. Rogue narrowed her eyes on him, taking in the way his hands were clenched on the steering wheel, the hard set of his lips, the gleam of anger in his gaze when he glanced back at her. She could feel the blood thundering through her veins now, excitement and arousal pounding in her nerve endings.
“Why is it so damned important to you that I go back to Boston?” she argued. “Come on, Zeke, I have nothing to do with Joe and Jaime’s death. Why the hell do you want me in Boston so bad unless it’s because you can’t keep that frozen heart of yours in cold storage as long as I’m here?”
His jaw tensed and his foot became heavier on the gas as they sped, she assumed, to his farm.
Zeke pressed his lips tightly together and reined in the anger pulsing through him. All he could see flashing through his mind was Rogue, shaking in Jonesy’s grip, her head bouncing on her shoulders as her bartender shook the shit out of her.
There were bruises on her arms from the bastard’s fingers, there were bruises on her face, courtesy of a fist he had heard about while he was cuffing Jonesy. One of those bastards had hit her, not once, but twice. There was a dark area close to her temple; her cheek was beginning to swell.
“It wasn’t my heart I was worried about protecting,” he ground out between his teeth. “Did it ever enter that stubborn little brain of yours that maybe I was trying to protect you?”
Silence continued to fill the cab of the truck as Zeke took the turn that led back to his farm. Hell, he should have rushed her to the emergency room, not to his farm, despite her objections.
“I don’t need your protection.” Her voice shook and he could hear the pain that resonated inside it. “I don’t need anything from you, Zeke. I’m sick of your hot and cold attitude, and I’m really damned sick of only seeing you whenever you need to fuck.”
He shot her a furious glare. Only when he needed to fuck? He made more rounds of that damned bar and the Mackay restaurant a day than he did any other business. He waited for her, watched for her, and damn her, all he did was think about her, and she thought he was just there for the sex?
“I didn’t need to fuck tonight,” he stated with an edge of disgust. “I was more concerned with getting you away from that damned bar crowd before you ended up with your head bashed in. For God’s sake, Rogue, you waded into a bar fight between two men more than twice your size.”
“For God’s sake, Zeke,” she drawled mockingly. “It just so happens it was my bar.” She screamed the last two words at him. “You had no right to pull me out of there, and you sure as hell had no right to handcuff Jonesy.”
“He’s lucky I didn’t kill him.” Rage nearly consumed him at the remembered sight of Jonesy shaking her like a rag doll. “That’s the second time that bastard thought he could manhandle you.”
“And it’s the second time that you jumped to the wrong conclusion,” she accused him. “I think you do it deliberately.”
Zeke wiped his hand down his face before clenching the steering wheel in a death grip. Just a few more minutes, he told himself. He’d be at the farm, when he should be taking her to the hospital, in the house, and then he could turn her over his knee and paddle her ass for daring to allow herself to be in such a situation.
Damned stubborn woman. She refused medical care but wouldn’t care a damned bit to jump into the middle of another fucking bar-room brawl.
“I don’t just jump to the wrong conclusions,” he said carefully, attempting to throttle his anger. “And Jonesy won’t get away with this, Rogue. I’ll have my own little talk with him.”
Her eyes widened in alarm. In real alarm, there was no mockery in her gaze as she stared back at him now. “You’re going to get into a fight with him because he shook me a little bit? Good God, Zeke, this is ridiculous.”
“Not nearly as ridiculous as the knots you have me tied into.” Zeke knew she was breaking through barriers he hadn’t even realized were weakened by her. Hell, he’d just kissed her in front of a Wednesday night crowd at the bar and hauled her into his truck before reports had even been gathered. How many state and federal mandates had he broken with that one?
“Oh yeah, Zeke, you’re really tied in knots over me,” she snorted sarcastically. “So tied up that I’m continually trying to figure out exactly where I stand with you. It’s like trying to catch
the wind.”
He heard the hurt in her voice and he didn’t blame her for it. He was trying too hard to make certain she didn’t end up in danger that her emotions were being sacrificed. That wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted her safe, and until he identified the man the League sent in to do their dirty work, then she wouldn’t be safe until she was out of Pulaski County.
“I’m not that damned hard to figure out,” he finally protested with an edge of disgust. “Hell, Rogue, wanting you out of the county until this investigation is over doesn’t mean I’m trying to deny anything that’s between us. It simply means I’m trying to protect you.”
He made the turn onto the graveled road that led to his farm and prayed that Shane hadn’t come home for the night.
“Oh yeah, that’s why you just left last night rather than coming upstairs with me,” she pointed out.
“I didn’t come upstairs with you because we were too angry with each other for what we both know would have happened. I won’t fuck you while I’m angry with you, Rogue. We have things to settle between us. I wanted those things settled first.”
“Things like me leaving town?” she argued. “You can forget that one, Zeke. It’s not going to happen.”
Yeah, he’d already pretty much figured that one out. Blowing out a deep breath he tried to consider an alternative way to make certain she didn’t end up hurt, or worse, dead. Hell, he’d already lost his wife to an investigation; he didn’t want to lose Rogue to another one.
“We’ll discuss other options,” he said as he pulled into the driveway and shut off the ignition before turning to face her. “I won’t let you risk yourself though, I want that made clear here and now. Until this is over, you can’t work the bar, you can’t travel alone. Not until I figure out what’s going on.”
Rogue’s expression was stark as the outside lights reflected off her pale flesh.
