Page 30 of Sinful Promise
I have answers to seek, something I should’ve taken the time to check when I came in here. But I thought the Pattersons had an intruder back then. A safety risk, or potentially, a killer lurking in the garage.
Slowing my steps near the front headlight, as anticipation thuds in my blood and my senses work in overdrive, I stop by the grille of the SUV and glance up to get a full view of the fifty-thousand-dollar car.
Of the windshield. The hood. The bumper that we suspect might’ve mown a man down today.
Curiosities answered, I draw a deep breath, only to exhale again and turn toward the house.
“Well, fuck.”
MINKA
Tim’s Bar is just… a bar. Dark wood, and shaded windows to keep out as much light as possible. Booths nestle against the far wall, and pool tables take up a lot of the opposite side of the room, allowing cops a place to relax, to stroke theirpool cuesin privacy, and offering badge bunnies shadows in which to flirt with men who carry guns and are probably, in most cases, already married.
It’s a game of taboo most enjoy. I see it every single night we come here.
All those cops, drifting down the street after a long shift. Plus EMTs. Doctors. Nurses from the hospital a couple of blocks up. Tim’s Bar is a haven of darkness, privacy, decent burgers, and better music—so long as whoever has the quarters selects the right tunes on the jukebox.
Everyone is pleased with the hustle and bustle of the place, and the proprietor enjoys the income derived from thirsty first responders looking to take a load off.
The proprietor being Tim. Timothy Malone, that is, ofthemafia Malones.
But we don’t talk about that in polite company.
“Burger?” He’s my older, gruffer, somewhat meaner brother-in-law, and when Arch isn’t here to nag at me, Tim fills that role with a nasty scowl and an inability to stop badgering a woman.
He leans on the bar in front of me, resting on his fists so his shoulders fire with muscles, and his jaw twitches beneath a well-kept beard I know Aubree daydreams about. “You’re pale, Mayet.” He has lovely green eyes, just like Archer, and he uses them now to look me up and down. “Are your hands shaking?”
“Absolutely not.” I pull the offending appendages from the bar and rest them in my lap. “And I’ll have a burger in a minute. I’m waiting for Arch.”
“So start with Coke.” He grabs a glass from the shelf on his side of the bar, then the fountain hose thingy, and starts pumping soda into the glass. “And bread.”
When Daisy, his busty, blonde,Daisy-Duke-perfectbarmaid sashays by with her arms laden with someone else’s food, Tim snatches the tray of bread and drops it in front of me with a grin. “And stop watching my employee like you wanna stab her.”
“I don’t wanna stab her.” I should probably feel bad about taking someone else’s dinner, but carbs are carbs, and it’s not like I’m not starving, so I take a piece and dip it in the little tureen of oil on the side. “How’s she doing?”
“Daisy?” With practiced moves, Tim tosses the hose down and sets my Coke by my elbow. Then with a flourish and a flirty wink, he flicks a straw into my glass and takes a piece of bread for himself. “I’m not sleeping with her. She’s not looking to hook up. Zero flirting, actually. So you can report that back to Aubree.”
“I’m not reporting anything to anyone.” I take a hefty bite so crumbs sprinkle down to litter the bartop. “Though you’d be doing yourself a favor if you pulled Aubs into a dark hallway and told her you love her like it hurts.” I wrinkle my nose. “Bonus points if you make a mess of her hair and lipstick while you’re going. It’ll blow her mind.”
“I’m not telling her that.” He rests back on his elbows, but tilts his head and watches his new-ish barmaid fill orders with a smile. “Daisy’s got a brain, Mayet. And quick wit. She takes no one’s shit, and was able to keep the place running while I was away. And though she coulda hosed me and pocketed the income for those days, she didn’t.”
“So she’s honest.”
I’m not one of those women who hates another because her friends do. I’m really not. In fact, before moving to Copeland, I’m not sure I had any friends at all.
Colleagues? Sure.
University classmates? Absolutely.
But pals? No. I had no time for that.
But now I have Aubree. And suddenly, she has me wearing a matching anklet she had soldered onto my body, so even if I felt the need to return to my anti-social ways, she’s made it impossible to forget her.
Which means, I kind ofhaveto hate Daisy. If only a little. Purely in the name of loyalty.
“She’s honest,” he agrees with a nod. “Smart. She works hard, and never bitches about it. Men hit on her every fuckin’ night, but she never takes offense.”
“Does she return the banter?” Because he’s watching her, I pick up another piece of bread and follow his lead. To her double Ds, and her legs that, I swear, are longer than my entire body. To her wavy blonde locks, and her top that was selected, no doubt, from the kid’s section at Walmart. “Is she hooking up with your customers?”
