“It was no trouble at all. Nell has a couple of bunks here if you need a safe place to spend the night.”
“Yeah, I already reserved one. Thanks. Wish I could travel at night.”
I don’t ask, and he doesn’t explain. He doesn’t need to. Everyone with a brain knows the most dangerous thing a person can do anymore—even a big, tough, competent guy like Cole—is travel in the dark.
I’m about to say something else when I feel eyes on me. Fixed, fierce eyes. Cade.
After all this time, I’m used to him watching me constantly, but it doesn’t normally feel like this. He’s still unhappy. And indignant that I’m talking to Cole.
Maybe I was wrong and he’s been a one of those macho, possessive assholes all this time.
“Okay. I better get working. Good luck finding your brother.”
“Thanks.” Cole nods. Then he looks over at Cade’s table before his gaze returns to me. “Your man is getting jealous.”
“He’s not my man!”
For the first time since I met him, Cole’s mouth twitches up slightly into a hint of a smile. “If you say so. But probably best you stop talking to me. I’m fucking worn out, and I’m not in the mood for a bar brawl over a woman.”
That makes me snicker. I’m still smiling a little when I turn around, and I know that Cade sees it. He bristles even more.
An hour later, my section is completely full, so I have no time or leisure for thinking about anything but doing my job.
The militia are in high form today, loud and rowdy and cursing the Silver Wolf more than normal. Evidently they laid that trap for him, expecting to capture him and be done with the whole thing. But he somehow figured out what they were planning and laid a trap of his own.
So a whole unit of militiamen ended up in a pit. Several were injured, and they lost one of their trucks.
While that was happening, the Silver Wolf broke into one of their warehouses and stole cases of guns, ammunition, and vehicle parts, plus siphoned off tanks of their stored gasoline.
As always, I’m not sure which side I want to have the upper hand, but I can’t help but enjoy the militia’s outrage.
Serves them right to not be able to take what they want when they want it. Serves them right for someone to take from them for a change.
Unfortunately, one of my other customers—a gray-haired farmer who comes in once a month—overhears their talk like everyone else and mutters something about how they now know how it feels.
This doesn’t sit well with the militia, and they’re too fired up not to react. In the resulting argument, the farmer’s table gets flipped, and all the dishes and glasses fall crashing to the floor.
Both Cole and Cade jump to their feet to help before the fight spirals out of control, but Rick and Trevor are there almost immediately, hauling out the perpetrators. The rest of the militia settle down quick, lest they lose their Pub privileges.
But I’m left with a mess on the floor to clean up.
With a sigh, I get a broom and bucket and start shoveling up broken pieces and leftover food. Before I realize he got up from his seat, Cade is there, crouching on the floor, holding the bucket sideways for me to push the debris into.
“Thanks,” I tell him.
“Sure.” Together, we clean up the worst of the mess, and Cade carries the now heavy bucket for me to the garbage pile outside.
“Thank you,” I tell him again after we’ve dumped it. “You didn’t have to help.”
He eyes me soberly.
“If you have something to say, just say it.”
He takes a slightly ragged breath. “You gonna fuck him?”
“What?” My voice squeaks I’m so surprised.
“You gonna fuck him? That guy.”
