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“Stay down, you fool!” Birdie said.
With a roar, he ignored her and charged the man who’d thrown him.
Sawyer staggered, and the biker with the pool cue raised it. Birdie didn’t think. She ran and leaped, landing on his back.
“What the fuck! Get off him, Birdie!” Sawyer yelled at her.
Ignoring him, she held on, her arms around his neck. The man was turning in a circle, trying to shake her off. Birdie’s head started to swim, and nausea gripped her. She always got motion sickness. Hands grabbed her, pulling her free. Sawyer put her back on her feet, then swung a fist and dropped the man before he turned back to her.
“Sawyer—”
He bent at the waist, put a shoulder into her belly, and straightened. Birdie was now hanging over his shoulder. Pushing open the door, Sawyer stormed outside into the night air.
“Put me down now!”
He kept walking.
“Put me down, Sawyer!” She pounded his back with her fists. His reply was a hard slap on the ass, which had her yelping.
He walked around the building to the rear and found her car. When he reached it, she was lowered to her feet.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” His face was inches from hers now. It might be dark, but there was a security light, and it showed her the bruise on his cheek and blood trickling down his chin.
“None of your business, and you should go home and get some ice for that face.”
The tic in his neck told her he was not happy, but if that hadn’t given it away, the rage in those dark eyes would have done it. Unlike other people in Lyntacky, she’d never been afraid of this Sawyer Duke. Intimidated and awed a few times but never afraid. Tonight, that was about to change.
“I’ll ask you again,” he said in a soft, lethal voice. “What are you doing here?”
“Gambling.”
Birdie had realized young that she was good at poker because she was good at counting cards. Her brothers had taught her and Blue Jay to play for the contraband sweets they’d brought into the house when their mother wasn’t looking.
When she’d realized how much they needed to pay her father’s medical bills, desperation had forced Birdie to find other ways to make money. When she’d overheard someone discussing a poker game at the Gray Dog, she decided to investigate. She’d been coming here ever since.
“Why?” he snarled.
“I like it.”
“No, you don’t,” he snapped.
“You’re bleeding.” Shrugging off her backpack, Birdie unzipped it. Rummaging through the contents, she found her pack of tissues and pulled one out.
“Do you have a gambling problem, Birdie?” He spoke the words slowly, in that way that told her he was trying to stay calm.
“Here.” She handed him the tissue.
He ignored her and leaned in. “You are reckless and crazy. That shit last night with the dirty talk, and now this—”
She pressed the tissue to his lip and blotted, making sure she covered his entire mouth.
“It’s my life, Sawyer. I’ll live it like I want to. You’re already blackmailing me for the dirty talk. You can add this to it.”
“What’s going on? Why are you working three jobs and gambling?” His fingers wrapped around her wrist and met on the other side. “Do you have a gambling addiction?” He pulled her hand away from his face.
“What? No!”
“Then why are you here? And why do you do the Madame Fleur thing?”
