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And she didn’t blush.
Poppy had just told a bald-faced lie without blushing.
Now how interesting was that?
He slid into the chair beside her and slouched back. Reaching up, he twirled around his finger a little loose curl of hair lying at her nape.
“Hard day, baby?” he asked, keeping his voice low.
She turned to him slowly, her gaze hooded, the green gleaming with a hint of fire.
“It was interesting,” she answered him without so much as a smile. “How was your day?”
He inclined his head marginally. “Mine was interesting as well.”
“Did you see the news this evening?” Erika leaned forward, staring past Poppy, concern creasing her face. “This morning, they reported that a mercenary group had been killed not far from town. This evening, a camper down by the river blew up with two men in it. Some men who were fishing when they showed up said the men were really rough-looking and sounded foreign. Something bad is going on…”
“I wonder if Jimmy’s death is tied to this.” Lilith turned to Jack. “Our friend Jimmy Stafford was killed last month just after he radioed in and told dispatch he was checking out some unusual activity between two box trucks he’d passed on a back road outside of town. When he didn’t respond later, two officers when to check on him.” She swallowed, distress showing clearly in her gaze. “Someone had shot him in the head and just left him on the side of the road.”
Jack had seen the report, and he knew Ian believed the officer’s death was connected to everything going on now.
As Lilith dropped her gaze sadly, Jack became aware of one of Ian’s bodyguards moving from the table and coming his way.
Shit was getting ready to get real.
Fuck.
“I’m ready to go…” Poppy paused as the bodyguard stopped at their table.
“Excuse me, Mr. Bridger,” Breck Harding, one of Ian’s bodyguards, said as he stopped next to the table. “Mr. and Mrs. Richards would like a moment of your time.” He paused. “If you don’t mind.”
The fact that it was more a demand than a request was clear.
“I’m going home.” Poppy started to rise to her feet.
Jack gripped her leg, holding her in place, his gaze locked with the bodyguard’s.
“I’ll be there in a minute,” he agreed.
“I’ll wait.” The bodyguard’s smile was tight. “Again, if you don’t mind.”
“And if I do?” Jack growled.
“I’ll wait anyway.”
“I’m leaving,” Poppy said again, her voice nearly a whisper as Jack straightened in the chair and leaned close to her ear.
“You’ll remain right here, at this table, until I come back,” he told her, hardening his tone until his voice sounded just as cruel as he meant it to. “Agreed?”
Those green eyes narrowed on him, anger licking at the brilliant color as he watched her consider defying him.
He didn’t say anything else. He held her gaze another second, then motioned to Lucas at the bar.
“That is dirty,” she hissed when Lucas rose from his stool and Jack straightened from his chair and began walking to the other table.
Hell. Now what the fuck was going on?
Poppy glared at Lucas, forcing herself not to speak, not to allow the anger burning in her chest free.
