“Not really,” I say from beneath my cap. “Drove through once or twice.”
“What brings you to Kentucky?”
“Just visiting a friend.”
A friend who’s running late. I check my watch and sip my drink. Patience has never been my strong suit.
The door to the outside opens, letting in a gust of wind. I listen to the sound of the newcomer’s footsteps—heavy, evenly spaced.
Is it him?
The man takes a stool two seats down from mine at the bar.
“Hey, Brett. The usual?” the bartender asks.
I smile to myself.
“Yeah, thanks.”
The bartender pours him a frothy pint and sets it on the counter. “Here you go. Will you gents be good here on your own for ten minutes? I gotta take my break, and Sally called out.”
“Go ahead,” Brett says, already pulling out his phone.
The moment the bartender disappears in the back, I slap a twenty-dollar bill onto the bar and stand up.
Honestly, I didn’t think Brett would fucking skip town after he heard what I did to those Iron Raptors, but that’s exactly what the coward did. He handed his bar back to his daddy and left the state. He probably figured the Raptors might come after him after his meddling in my business got their guys killed. But it looks like they’ve forgotten about him.
I’ve got a much longer memory.
I approach him quietly, taking in his hunched posture and the way he’s glued to his phone. The guy’s so wrapped up swiping through his online dating app that he doesn’t notice when I stop right behind him. I lean in, my voice low.
“She can do better.”
He freezes, his fingers hovering over the picture of a grinning brunette. Slowly, he looks up. The color drains from his face, and fear floods his expression.
A slow grin spreads over my face. Oh, I’m going to enjoy this.
“What the—"
“You knew I’d find you eventually,” I interrupt, keeping my voice casual. “But we can talk about that outside. You and me need to have a little chat.”
He swallows hard, glancing around the nearly empty bar as if searching for an escape route. The bartender’s already in the back, and the other patrons are too busy nursing their drinks and not giving a fuck about a pretty boy who’s not from around these parts.
When he doesn’t move, I decide to help him out. I’m a nice guy like that. Grabbing the collar of his jacket, I yank him off the stool and onto his feet.
He makes a pitiful yelp.
“Let’s go, Brett. You’ve kept me waiting long enough.”
He stumbles as I steer him toward the exit. He tries to resist, but it’s pointless. When we reach the door, he makes an attempt to wrench free. He probably thinks he can make a run for it, but I tighten my hold and shove him outside.
The chilly night air wraps around us. The street is quiet, the distant hum of traffic the only sound. A guy and a woman are smoking at the other end of the building.
Brett eyes them desperately.
I smirk. “They look like smart people, don’t they? Smart enough not to interfere.”
“Listen, man, I didn’t—”
