Page 10 of Rebel

She picked up the glass, sniffed it, then took a small sip.Testing.“Rio.”

“Like the city?”

“Like the river.It flows where it wants to.”

I raised my glass in acknowledgment and took a swallow, feeling the burn hit my throat.“So what brings you to our humble establishment, Rio who flows where she wants to?”

Her eyes flicked around the room again, lingering on a group of Prospects playing pool.“Just passing through.Heard this was where the action is in this shithole town.”

“And what kind of action are you looking for?”I kept my tone neutral, but we both knew what the question implied in a place like this.

She met my gaze head-on, challenge sparking.“Not the kind you’re thinking.”

“You’d be surprised what I’m thinking.”

A commotion near the door drew our attention.Two Prospects escorting a belligerent drunk outside, his protests lost in the music.Rio’s hand had drifted back toward her concealed weapon, her body tensing for trouble.

“Relax,” I said, stepping slightly closer.“Just the usual Friday night housekeeping.”

“I don’t relax in places I don’t know with people I don’t trust,” she said, but her hand dropped back to her side.

I studied her for a moment -- the way she held herself, alert but not skittish.Dangerous but controlled.“Smart policy.”

Across the room, Charming’s gaze connected with mine, one silver eyebrow raised in silent question.I gave a subtle nod.Nothing to worry about.Yet.

“Your President’s watching,” Rio said without turning around.The observation impressed me -- she’d maintained awareness of the room without being obvious about it.

“He notices everything,” I confirmed.“Especially strangers with hidden weapons.”

She took another sip of whiskey, longer this time.“Should I be worried?”

“Depends on why you’re really here.”

The lights caught the angles of her face, highlighting then shadowing the determination etched there.Up close, I could see the faded bruise near her temple, almost healed but still telling a story she probably wouldn’t share.Of course, with the attitude she seemed to carry with her, it wouldn’t surprise me to discover she’d been in a bar fight.

“Maybe I just needed a drink and a break from the road,” she said, but we both knew there was more to it.

I leaned against the bar, deliberately relaxing my posture.“We both know there are easier places to get a drink.”

“Easier isn’t always better.”

“No,” I agreed, feeling something shift between us -- not quite trust, but a mutual recognition.“It rarely is.”

The music changed, something with a heavy beat that vibrated through the floorboards and rattled the glasses behind the bar.Around us, the party atmosphere intensified -- women grinding against leather-clad men, voices growing louder to compete with the music, the smell of weed joining the already complex bouquet of the room.

Rio didn’t flinch, but her fingers tightened around her glass.Not comfortable, but determined not to show it.Interesting woman.

“You have somewhere to stay tonight?”I asked, surprising myself with the question.

Her eyes narrowed.“Why?”

“Because it’s going to get a lot louder and a lot drunker in here as the night goes on.And while I’m sure you can handle yourself, even rivers need to rest somewhere.”

For a moment, I thought she might tell me to fuck off.Instead, she finished her whiskey and set the glass down.“I’ve got my truck outside.I’ll find a motel.”

“The only motel in town with openings rents by the hour and has a bedbug problem.”I straightened up from the bar.“I’ve got a spare room.Clean sheets.Door locks from the inside.”

“Why would you offer that to someone you just met?Someone carrying a gun, no less.”

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