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She arrived at his table seconds after he was seated, wearing a tank top with the words Last Chance Tavern stretched across the swells of her breasts. Her cut-off jean shorts barely covered her ass, but the black combat boots gave her a don’t-fuck-with-me vibe Judge admired. He bet she could kick his ass despite his training as a Delta Force operator.
“The usual?” she asked with a smile.
He nodded.
She spun and hurried back to the bar.
Judge’s gaze followed the sway of her hips, his groin tightening. He could lose focus far too easily with that one. Too bad he wasn’t there to have fun, or he’d ask her out.
She’d probably tell him to go to hell, but he would be polite and persistent until she finally agreed.
How long had it been since he’d had a woman?
Too damned long, based on his body’s reaction to just the sight of her swaying hips. She had one helluva a hot body and a confidence that was even sexier.
Sadly, he wasn’t there to pick up a waitress. He was there to find The Chosen Way so his team could bring them down and put an end to their threats and their practice of abducting of women, men, boys and girls, whom they forced into a training program for their army of assassins.
Hopefully, in the process, he’d find Molly’s friend Penny and the woman who’d helped Liza and Tayla escape.
A man holding a longneck beer ambled across the barroom and stopped at Judge’s table. “Mind if I join you?”
Judge shrugged. “The chair’s free. Knock yourself out.” He recognized the man as the guy who’d been training the other man on the AR-15 at the range that afternoon.
The man dropped into the chair across from Judge and set the beer bottle on the table. “Saw you at the range today with that rifle and scope,” he said. “You’re a damned good shot.”
Judge nodded. “Thanks.”
The other man lifted his beer and tipped it toward Judge. “So, are you a hunter?”
“When I need to be,” Judge said.
The guy took a swig of his beer, swallowed, then cocked an eyebrow. “Gun enthusiast?”
“Never know when you’re gonna need one,” Judge said. “Pays to know how to use it.”
“Agreed,” the stranger said and took another swallow of beer. “You’re so right. You never know when you’ll need protection. Especially the way this country is going, what with mass shootings and the government trying to take away our second amendment right to bear arms.” He tilted his head to one side, his eyes narrowing slightly. “You’re not from around here, are you?”
Judge shook his head. “I take it you are?”
The man’s lips twisted. “Not really.”
“What brought you to Whitefish?” Judge asked. “It’s not like it’s on any beaten path. I can’t imagine there are a lot of job opportunities here.”
With a snort, the man set his bottle on the table. “You got that right. I’m not looking for a job, though. I’m looking for like-minded people.”
Judge raised his eyebrows. “Like-minded in what way?”
“People who aren’t offended by the fact that I own a gun, or two or three. People who aren’t offended if I disagree with the current establishment.” He lifted his chin toward Judge. “What about you? What brings you here?”
Judge’s lips twitched. “Looking for like-minded people.”
The waitress arrived with Judge’s beer and leaned close to set the bottle on the table. “Want me to start a tab?” As she straightened, a light, citrusy scent teased Judge’s nostrils, distracting him for a moment.
He shook his head to bring himself back to the task at hand. “No, thank you, ma’am. I’ll pay up now.” Reaching into his back pocket, he pulled out his wallet.
The man across the table held up a hand. “I’ve got this.” To the waitress, he said, “Add it to my tab.”
“Do you want to close out or would you like another beer?” she asked.
