Page 126 of Fury

Those new scars over my soul still stung.

I leaned my head lower to get a better look at the woman. One thick lock of shoulder-length dark hair hung over an eye, and she shook her head to get it out of the way. She straightened her shoulders, letting out a quick breath. “Make me another, pretty please.”

“You sure, honey?”

“Extremely sure,” came the reply. She was determined. She was getting hammered.

Three boys down the bar gawked at her as they drank, getting their engines ready to close in on her finish line. I drained my Bushmills and set the glass back on the counter, wiping at the edge of my mouth with a flick of my thumb.

Tania looked good.

I hadn’t laid eyes on her in years, but I couldn’t mistake that shiny black hair and those huge dark eyes holding court at the long bar of Dead Ringer’s Roadhouse just outside of Meager, South Dakota. I moved down the bar over to Tania as a blond guy strutted toward her. I gave him a searing get-back-into-the-hole-you-just-crawled-out-of look and he stopped short, his buddies grabbing his shirt, reeling him back in.

I bent over her shoulder, catching her gaze in the mirror behind the bar. “Fancy meeting you here.”

She jumped, twisting around, her glossy hair flying in my face. “Oh my God! Where the hell did you come from?”

“Colorado.”

She punched my shoulder and gripped my tee. “Finger!” she whispered, a grin lighting up her face.

“Actually I came from a couple of barstools down. I stopped for a drink. Been riding all night, needed a break. How about you? What the hell are you doing here? You left Chicago and living here now?”

“No, no. I had business out here, and now I’m on my way home to see my mom.” A huge smile broke out over her face as she released my shirt. “It’s good to see you.”

“Good to see you too.” I settled onto the stool next to her. “What business?”

A huge margarita slid towards Tania.

“You good, babe?” the bartender asked, glancing at me, his lips tight.

Tania waved a hand as she leaned over her new glass of booze and slurped from the frosty green top. “Yes, Jerry. I know this guy, don’t worry. He won’t bite.”

Jerry made a face. He didn’t look convinced.

“Actually, he does bite.” Tania drank more, rolling her eyes.

My head knocked back, and I let out a dry laugh. I could still laugh, and it felt fucking good. “What are you doing here by yourself?”

“Pul-leaze—I’ve been coming to Dead Ringer’s since I was in high school.” She batted her thick eyelashes at me as she drank.

“You’re here, at a known biker bar, on your own getting sloshed.”

“Is that totally unacceptable behavior for me?” She set her glass back on the bar top.

“Yeah, reckless.”

She wagged a finger at me. “You hit the nail on the head, darlin’.”

“Which nail would that be?”

“One of the many.” She laughed, her eyes darting over me. “Let me get you a drink.”

I shook my head at her as I raised my glass at Jerry. He shot into action, bringing over the bottle of Bushmills and refilling my glass.

“A bottle of brew too,” I said.

“Which would you like?” he asked.

---