Thankfully, the supper rush started in earnest, and I was too busy tending bar and helping Abby, Kurt, and Gloria get plates and platters of barbeque and burgers to the hungry men, and fresh pitchers of beer to replace the empties.
“I’m going to slap that woman if she calls me waitress one more time,” Abby hissed as I took bin of dirty dishes from her. “I gave her my name twice. Now she stresses waitress like it a dirty word. Why won’t he leave us alone?”
God. That is the question. Shame flooded through me. Shawn was my problem, not theirs. But since I’d blocked his number and stopped answering the door when he showed up unannounced, he’d started dragging everyone I knew and cared about into his pettiness.
“I’ll deal with it. Ignore his table, I’ve got them.”
“Hey, waitress, do you think we could get a little service over here?” A whiny, nasal voice caught my ear as I rushed back to the kitchen to warn Orson of a tour bus I’d seen pull into the parking lot. “Waitress, do I need to speak to your boss?”
I heard Shawn shush her, but I was pressed for time and patience. “I’m the owner. We have servers here, not waitresses and if they give you a name to call them by, that name, not waitress. And if you need something, I will see to it myself, so as not to subject my employees to you or my stalker ex-boyfriend any longer.”
Her look of shock was almost worth the evil glare Shawn gave me, but the feeling of victory didn’t last long.
“The service here has really gone downhill, Darcy. Used to be a guy could come here on a date and have a good time.” Shawn stood, knocking his chair back. He leaned across the table, knuckles white against the dark stain of the wood. “Maybe people need to hear how unhygienic the kitchen is.”
It was a threat he’d used frequently since I dumped him for sleeping with someone else in my bed. Just one of the joys of breaking up with a United States Marshall of the paranormal unit, was that I’d broken up with all his cop friends too.
“Maybe you need to get over the fact that I’m never going to blow you in my office again and find a new hangout, Shawn.”
His face finally registered something other than arrogance, and I wished to God in that moment I could have shut my stupid mouth. His eyes turned to ice, his face reddening with rage that poured out of him until his body shook with the effort not to attack me.
Part of me hoped he would, so I could finally get him out of my life. The saner part of me knew that if he started, I might not survive to enjoy my freedom. I’d seen him nearly kill a man when that look was on his face. I backed away, putting a second table between us as the tour bus passengers came in, road-weary and hungry. Almost half head straight to the restrooms, but the others began to fill in the few empty tables around us.
He stalked forward, ignoring the woman hanging off his arm and bleating at him to ignore me, and I backed away some more. Just as the bus folk began to notice the tension, I felt Orson’s steady breadth behind me.
“Shawn, I think the time has come for you to find a new haunt, all right buddy?” That my gentle giant of a cousin had even stepped out from behind the kitchen counter should’ve been enough to remind Shawn he was crossing the line. Instead, his rage focused on Orson, and he lunged at us.
Just as suddenly, his face was planted on the table next to me, between two sweet grandmothers in visors from the casino a couple of hours away. One of them squealed and jumped back, while the other slid her purse into her lap and scowled down on Shawn imperiously.
“I think, my friend, that the lady, and the gentleman, asked you to leave. Now’s a good time for that, while the only thing bruised is your pride.” The hand that held Shawn down so effortlessly belonged to a well-muscled arm, connected to a body that matched. The stranger’s shirt was pulled tight over defined pecs. When I glanced further down, a narrow waist and tight ass made me forget what all the fuss with Shawn had been about.
“Thank you. I won’t be proud and say we didn’t need the help, but if you let Mr. Freeman up, he can leave, and these nice ladies can get to their meal.” Orson’s warmth was already gone from behind me. He went back into his safe place to do what he knew, feed hungry mouths and stay out of the way.
The stranger released Shawn, who backed up and began to raise his fists. By then, the regulars had all stood up, ready to join a tussle. “What the hell are you, man? I don’t know any guy that strong. Not even lifters.”
The stranger scoffed. “Not hard to pin a man who’s fixated on the woman in front of him.”
I gasped, biting my cheek to keep the nervous laughter bubbling up inside me at bay. My scarlet-faced ex grabbed his date by the arm and dragged her out the door before I could remind him to pay his bill, shoving the poor bus driver out of the way in his haste to get out.
“Thank you again, Sir. This was about to be the ugliest night this little bar’s ever seen.” I held out my hand. “I’m Darcy.” I pointed toward the kitchen. “The beefcake in the kitchen is my cousin, Orson. This is our place.”
“I’m Ranger, Ranger DeVries, and it was my pleasure. Frankly, the way he was going on, I wouldn’t have minded if he’d pushed a little harder so I could have dragged him out myself.”
I stared into brown eyes that lightened almost to the shade of honey as he became animated, dark hair falling over them until he shook the lose waves back from his face. For some reason, the bottle on my desk jumped into my head again, as though it was waiting for me to pick a target. When I looked up, those eyes had turned to chocolate again, and the strange pull of the bottle passed.
Paris, I blame you for this. But I knew at least in part, my draw to DeVries was as simple and primal as time. I wanted him, not because Paris had filled my head with thoughts of romance, but because he was gorgeous, sexy, and strong. Who would blame a red-blooded girl for that?
Chapter 3
Darcy
“I’d like to buy you dinner,” I blurted. “I mean, Orson and I should treat you for standing up for…us.”
He scoffed and rubbed the back of his neck, making my own fingers itch to reach out and run them through the hair that hung over his collar. “You know, I think maybe that’s your problem. You just have bad taste in men.”
I flinched and gasped out a laugh. “I offered to pay for your meal, Mr. DeVrie,” I hissed, lowering my voice as I saw the ladies next to us paying rapt attention. “Not screw you across a table.”
“Such language on a lady.”
“I’m the barkeep. I don’t get paid extra to worry about what kind of a lady you think I am. Have a nice evening, Mr. DeVries. If you need me, I’ll in my place…behind the bar.”
I stroked back around the counter, my mood turned stormy again. When I finally glanced out at the tables, DeVries was gone, and the patrons of O’Shay’s were chatting and laughing like nothing had happened.
Fickle humans, on to the next bit of gossip before the blood dries on the floor from the last fight. I couldn’t help but smile, even though I my irritation for feeling disappointed that my snarky savior had disappeared. You’re irritated, because he’s right. After all, he was a jerk, and you wish he had asked you to get it on across the table.
Mentally, I shook myself and went back to filling the pitchers Gloria was hollering for. It wasn’t my fault DeVries was built like a god and distracting as hell. I’d been single for months, and with Shawn randomly dropping by my house or work, I hadn’t had the energy to try even a one-off, always afraid he’d burst in and hurt someone.
But I knew I hadn’t ever been interested in guys like my cousin, quiet and careful of others. Shawn’s biggest draw had been his passion. Any sex we had after he’d completed a demon capture was the best in our relationship. It was also our downfall, since he couldn’t, or wouldn’t wait for me when he was in that mode. Any woman would do, and still did, as he’d proven again minutes before.
The casino-goers laughed about their losses and others bragged about their winnings, and by the time they’d eaten their fill and left, and t
he regulars began to thin out, hours had passed like minutes. I was left with two exhausted servers and one busboy who had to leave early to catch a bus.
Abby and Gloria left shortly after I gave him his freedom. Orson chased the kitchen staff out on their heels, the cooks and dishwashers laughing and roughhousing until I threatened to give them more work. They left, but their volume increased as they ran out like a pack of wolf cubs.
“Is it as exhausting for you to work with them all day and night, as it is for me to bum-rush them out the door?” I sank into a chair that hadn’t been upended on a table yet. “They make me feel so old.”
Orson laughed and handed me a beer, upending a seat for himself. “The day crew is older, and quieter. It’s those college kids working nights that have all the energy,”
“It’s still not enough for me to take the lunch shift, ‘Cuz.”
His chuckling turned into a belly laugh. “You suck at mornings. I wouldn’t even ask.”
“Even though you’re here all day?” I raised my hands in surrender before he could answer. “I know, I do the books, and you like your kitchen.” I glanced around. “Paris was in, wasn’t she? She was supposed to bring me my car.”
He shrugged. “I would’ve driven you home, but she dropped these off in the back hours ago. Said she didn’t want Shawn to see her and start a fight.”
“I hate that he’s affecting everyone else’s life.” I slammed the bottle down on the table a little too hard and flinched at the clatter. “Paris wanted to hang out. She missed us, and she didn’t even feel comfortable staying. How the hell did she get home?”
Orson’s cheeks pinked and the blush spread all the way to his hairline. “Ah, I loaned her my car. She’s coming to pick me up.” As if his words were a cue, his phone lit up with a text.
“I take it she’s here?”
He nodded. “But of course, we’ll wait until you’re ready. I don’t like you walking to your car alone with Shawn acting the way he has been.”
“Don’t worry about me. He’ll be, um, busy for the rest of the night.” I paused. “I think.” My sigh was heavy with self-pity, making us grin at each other. “Let’s just go. I don’t need to be proven wrong.”
Orson locked the doors behind us. I waved to the shadowy figure in the driver’s seat of Orson’s Jeep. Paris honked lightly in reply, as if to say, “I told you it was going to be tonight.”
I shook my head and walked around the side of the building. I’d taken to parking behind the dumpsters, making it harder for Shawn to drive by and see if I was at work. The light over the kitchen door flickered and hummed like the porch light out of a horror movie. Note to self, fix the damn light and never even think the words horror movie outside in the dark ever again.
Mentally, I cursed myself for scaring so easily, but I still clutched my keys between my fingers in a white-knuckle fist, pulling the knife Orson had given me with the other. I hoped Shawn knew better than to physically attack me.
He’d never raised a hand to me, but since the breakup, he’d been quick to anger and confrontational in ways I would have never imagined. Drunk dialing me, texting in the middle of the night, showing up at my work…only the image of a hooker in my bed had kept me from caving to him.
Then he’d gotten angry, and the calls had become hang-ups, the visits orchestrated for when we were busiest so he could drive uncomfortable customers away. If he attacked me, he’d win. But I’d make certain the police couldn’t discount the marks I’d leave on his face and body.
I was so busy thinking about Shawn and how angry I was that he wouldn’t just move on and leave me alone, that I forgot to be afraid in the flickering light of the back door. I forgot to pay attention too, not even looking over my shoulder before I unlocked my car and reached for the handle
When I felt the blow to the back of my head, I didn’t even have enough energy to cry out. My knees buckled and I fell to the ground as another blow glanced off my scalp, blood flooding into my eyes.
I heard a shout, and running feet, and suddenly, strong hands lifted me as a voice I thought I recognized cursed at whoever had attacked me from behind.
“Hold on there, Darcy. I’ve got you.” A soft cloth wiped the blood out of my eyes and, blinking against the shooting pain in my head, I looked into molten golden eyes I knew would be like milk chocolate if he wasn’t so upset.
“Why are you all worked up? I’m the one who got clocked.” I tried to laugh and almost passed out from the pain that shattered my head again. “Oh. No, no, no.” It hurt so much I didn’t care that I was whimpering in front of the guy who had insulted me and walked away before I could decide to hate him.
Chapter 4
Ranger
“I’ve got you. It’s gonna be okay.” I hefted her into my arms, adjusting quickly to the extra weight of muscle I didn’t know she had. “For such a little thing, you weight a ton.”
She snickered at me, but it broke off in a moan and I tilted her away from me in case she needed to vomit. “Shut up, DeVries.” One slender arm wrapped around my neck and she whispered, “how are you here right now?”
Her eyes were bright under the timorous bulb that flickered behind me. “By that, are you asking if I just tried to bash your head in?”
“The thought occurs, but you don’t seem to wish me harm.” She didn’t have to say what we were both thinking.
But I hadn’t seen Shawn as I cut through the parking lot. I wasn’t looking for him, or anyone else, at least not at O’Shay’s. “Your parking lot was my shortcut. I’d strayed farther from an appointment than I intended.”
I’d followed Shawn back to his date’s double wide trailer, ready to storm in and collect a couple of extra souls for my bounty. At least I’d been ready until I saw the pentacle-shaped Marshall’s star hanging around his neck on a chain. I only had one soul left to collect for my bounty, and I wasn’t about to piss off a paranormal executioner on purpose.
Darcy moaned again and leaned into my neck, the scent of her blood too tantalizing and close to ignore. I placed her in the backseat of her car and took off the Egyptian silk shirt I was wearing, pressing it against her head wound. “I’ll get you to a hospital, I just need to make a quick stop en route.”
“You have a deal to make at the crossroads, right?” Her voice was hardly more than a mumble, buried in her arm as she held the makeshift compress to her head.
I slid into the driver’s seat and glanced over my shoulder at her, but her eyes were closed, her face contorted in pain. “Is that a problem?’
“Nuh uh. Just explains a few things.” Her words slurred and I glanced back again, just about to pull out onto the empty street. The shirt still covered her wound, but only in a loose heap. Her hands were slack, her mouth falling open.
Shit.
“Hey, Lady. You need to stay awake for me.” The railroad crossing where my mark was waiting was only a few hundred feet away.
Double shit.
I turned away from the dark, almost deserted industrial compound where a smattering of night shift employees and my target waited for me to prey upon them. My mark wouldn’t maintain his nerve long enough for me to get back to him, and that meant more time in Portland to find another. I tried to ignore the tightness in my stomach. The powers that be wouldn’t be happy with me for choosing a woman over a soul, especially a woman who was content with her life and herself, impervious to most soul-damning temptations.
It was rare to meet anyone so comfortable in their own skin. She made me want to strip her down to her peach, freckled skin and drink in that unaffected self-assurance until I could almost feel it myself.
Or feel anything, for that matter. It had been centuries since I had felt anything but anger and frustration. Even the thrill of a successful hunt had been replaced by boredom and apathy. But when the Marshall had advanced on her, so full of rage I could see his aura turn murderous, something had stirred. As fleeting as the impression was, it was enough to make me curious about the r
edhead with the sweet face and icy stare.
The bright, neon sign of St. Mary’s beckoned to us, the fifteen-foot tall cross shining like a star on the otherwise dark city block. I pulled into a parking spot with a sigh and gently lifted her out of the back seat.
“Darcy, wake up. Come on, sweetheart, I don’t much like the idea of trying to explain to them that I didn’t do this. I need you to wake up.” The bleeding had already stopped, and the cut looked far better than I feared at first. I jostled her a little and called her name again.
She groaned and wrapped her arms around my neck, filling my nose with the scent of sweet flowers and an undertone of powder and soft musk. My body tightened in response, and I cursed the need that would leave me dissatisfied even if I sated it.
She lifted her head. “Well, this blows. All I wanted to do was shower the stink of work off and fall into bed.”
“We’re at the hospital. I’ll get you inside and you can call your people, okay?”
She gripped the frame of the door. “I’m serious, DeVries, I just want to go home.” She released her death grip on the door. “Drive yourself wherever you need to go, and I’ll drive myself home, or back to the bar, whichever is closer.”
“I can’t let you drive. You have a head injury.”
“I’m not letting a demon or whatever you are know where I live.” She pushed away from me, groaning in pain. “Did you hit me?”
“No. I didn’t. And I didn’t make your Marshall ex-boyfriend attack you earlier, either.” I’ll drop you off at the bar.” I set her down and let her get comfortable in the back seat. “But you really should see a doctor. I can’t tell if you have a concussion or other injuries.”
Love Potion: A Valentine's Day Charity Anthology Page 2
