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Swain nodded toward the singer. “I hear the entertainment is worth the trip.” The “trip” amounted to seven whole miles. He could run the distance in an hour, but Harley-Davidson clearly wasn’t a world traveler or a distance runner.
“Yeah.” The guy turned around, rested his elbows on the bar, and leaned back. “That’s what my boy said.” He made another careless gesture, in the general direction of the main room. “He’s got a real hard-on for the singer. Roxy something. That sort of entertainment don’t interest me.”
“Not interested in talent?”
The redneck sent him a greasy grin. “In a woman? Shit, man. The only talent I need in a woman is a deep throat and a deep… Fuck me. Her.” He unleashed the trademark arm fling again, sending a couple patrons on his other side flinching back. “She’s got all the talent I need.”
Swain tracked the guy’s sightline to…Eden. Fuck him. While he and his new friend watched, she leaned over the pool table, lining up her shot and giving every guy on the other side of the table a spectacular view. Hanging back on her right stood Kenny Whelan, holding a cue and checking out her ass, and on the left stood Dobie Dobbins, offering his opinion on how she should make the shot.
Ten minutes in, and she had their targets buzzing around her like bees to honey. Fast work.
“She oozes talent,” Swain agreed.
“Not too smart, though,” the other man opined.
Interesting observation from someone he doubted spent his spare time attending Mensa meetings. Yep. Harley-Davidson had pawn written all over him.
Time to get myself into the game.
“What makes you say that?”
“Bitch is wasting her time with the two biggest losers in this place. Kenny and Dobie? Couple of stoners. Spend most of their time smoking weed and each other’s dicks.”
Swain feigned a squint, then turned back to the bar and uttered a “Huh” dripping with irony.
“What?”
He hid a smile. He could bait a hook, too. “Nothing. It’s just…the little guy, Dobie?”
At the other man’s nod, he continued, “Dobie was up here a few minutes ago getting beers, and he said practically the same thing about you and your friend.” Said friend was currently deeply engaged in watching the singer.
Harley straightened. “You fucking serious? That little shit shit-talked me?” The lantern jaw jutted. Two big hands clenched into fists.
Cocked and loaded. Time to fire. “Yeah, he said you and your friend…uh…”
“Travis?”
Swain snapped his fingers and nodded. “Right. Travis. He said he couldn’t believe you and Travis had stopped sucking each other’s dicks long enough to come out tonight.”
Harley’s face turned a mottled shade of red. “Imma kill that little bastard.”
And…bang. He was off like a poorly aimed shot, cutting and shoving through groups of people, jostling drinks and pissing everyone off on his way to the pool table. Swain gave him a ten-second head start and then followed at a quick but careful clip.
Eden looked up from the game as Harley approached, read the threat immediately, and angled herself in front of Kenny and Dobie even before the guy yelled, “Dobbins, you shit-spewing son of a bitch. I’m gonna tear out your tongue and shove it up your ass, since that’s what you’ve been talking out of.”
Both guys immediately retreated around the pool table, leaving Eden standing there with her legs braced, shoulders squared, holding the pool cue like a billy club.
Yeah, screw that.
“Back off, Arlo, you crazy fuck,” Dobie shouted and continued to circle the table. “I didn’t say jack.”
Arlo changed tactics, went the other way around the table, and made a lunge for Dobie, who got tangled up with Kenny in his effort to reverse course. Before a blow could land, Swain stepped in, caught the fist in his hand, and struck out with his other arm to hit Arlo’s brachial plexus with enough power to drop him to his knees. By this time, a crowd had gathered—including Arlo’s good buddy Travis. Prevailing sentiment being it was past time for Arlo to leave, it didn’t take long for a few of the other patrons, led by Junior, to step forward and make it happen.
Swain stood aside, purposefully nursing the hand he’d used to catch Arlo’s fist, and waited as Dobie, Kenny, and Eden approached. “Dude,” Dobie said, “you saved my life. I don’t know what got into that motherfucker. Arlo’s always had a short fuse, but damn…” He looked genuinely dazed. “I seriously don’t even know.”
Eden didn’t know, either. Her wide-set eyes held no hint of suspicion when they turned his way. Maybe he wouldn’t tell her. He wasn’t sure she’d appreciate it, since she’d been making plenty of headway with their targets on her own. But now he was in this game, too, with a big opening move.
“I’m Dobie,” the sandy-haired kid in the Gas N Go work shirt continued. “I totally owe you one. This here is Kenny.”
