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I paid my tab quickly and headed for the door, ignoring the creepy man. The hotel was just half a block down the way…
Chapter Fifteen
Denver
CalebandIwereon the couch, watching the Yankees game. A player named Dean Connors was up to bat, making his first appearance in five years.
“Jesus, where in the hell has that guy been?” I mumbled, watching the blonde haired, tattooed player spin his bat while smiling up at the crowd. Last I heard, he played for the Chicago Cubs—five years ago.
“Who is that, Dad?”
I took a sip of my water. I usually cut myself off after my second beer until Caleb went to bed. Then I’d have a glass of whiskey on the porch. I looked down at my boy.
“That’s a damn good baseball player, son. One of the best of this generation.”
“So, he’s like Uncle Mason but for baseball,” he stated.
That felt like a punch in the gut.
I pushed past it.
“Yeah, bud.” I ignored the burning in my stomach and looked back at the TV, just in time for Connors to swing. He hit the ball out into left field and broke into a run. The bases had been loaded. He got to third base safely.
Pounding on the door had me ripping my eyes away from the TV.
“What the hell?”
“What’s going on, Dad?”
“Stay here, bud,” I answered, setting my drink on the coffee table. When I got to the door and swung it open, Jigs was standing there, looking winded.
“Jigs, what the hel—”
“Pretty girl is in trouble,” he breathed, his eyes panicked. I looked over at living room. Caleb was watching TV. I stepped out and closed the door.
“What are you talking about?” I hissed.
“Green eyes, Denver. She’s in trouble.”
My spine stiffened and my blood ran cold. “Where?”
“In town. You need to get there fast. She went into David’s.”
“David’s is a bar, Jigs.”
“Hisfriend followed her inside.”
I was moving. “Take Caleb to the bunkhouse tonight. Keep him safe. Tell Mags to be on standby,” I ordered, running down to my truck.
For the second time, I was running after my green-eyed woman. For the first time, I was actually scared shitless.
The drive into town was a blur. The only thing I could focus on was the sound of my heart pumping in my ears and the ice-cold panic crawling up my spine. I pulled into David’s, parking right up front. David’s had been David’s since I was kid, but it was owned by a woman named Martha.
She was a good woman, and she hated a man named David. So, she named the bar after him so people could drink their lives away like he did. At least, that’s what Pop’s told Mason and I when we were kids.
I barreled out of the truck, ready to storm inside and raise hell when I heard, “Leave me alone!” It came from my right, in the direction of the hotel.
Fuck.
