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It barely rolls two inches.
Simone spins around and glares at me. “Cheat.”
I match her glare with a grin. “I would never do that.”
She prods me in the chest with her index finger. “Keep your stick to yourself, Mister.” Poke. Poke.
My grin widens. Fuck, she’s adorable, even when she’s pissed at me. Especially when she’s pissed at me. “Okay, for now. But I’m definitely up for sharing my stick with you later.”
She opens her mouth in rebuttal. A crash behind us halts her words. We jerk around to see what’s going on, but there are too many people blocking the entrance to the pool tables to get a good view.
“Stay here,” I tell Simone and weave through the crowd. I make it to the front in time to catch the man I saw talking to Sebastian take a swing at him. The stranger’s face is red, expression contorted into a snarl. He launches himself at Sebastian.
The stranger has an extra sixty pounds of muscle on him compared to his target, but what Sebastian lacks in muscle, he makes up in agility. He ducks out of the way.
The music stops abruptly, and the volume in the bar drops to near silence. Everyone’s attention is on the fight in the center of the room. Usually you’ll get several morons cheering and chanting on a fight. Not this time.
The two men circle each other. Patrick, the bouncer, approaches the pair. Size-wise, he matches the stranger. He places his body between them and exchanges words with the man.
The stranger grunts several obscenities at Patrick and Sebastian, then turns to leave. Patrick walks behind him, escorting him out.
Sebastian snatches up a nearby stool and swings it back.
I don’t care about the stranger. There’s something about him I don’t trust. It’s Patrick I’m worried about.
I step in front of Sebastian, ready to jerk the stool out of his grasp if it comes to that. “I’d leave if I were you, Sebastian.” My tone is that of a black bear protecting his territory, or in this case, protecting a friend’s territory. Evie and Taylor don’t need anyone damaging their business. The business they’ve poured their hearts and money into.
“I don’t have to leave if I don’t wanna. You don’t own this place.”
“He might not,” Evie says, having stepped out from behind the bar. “But I do.” She nods at me. She might be barely five foot five on a good day, but her scowl is all badass.
I’m more than happy to escort Sebastian Dryson from the bar. I’m also more than happy to ask him some questions about the conversation I overheard.
Sebastian sways on his feet. Great. The idiot’s drunk. Drunk and stubborn, because he still doesn’t bother to move.
“We can do this the easy way, and you leave of your own accord. Or she calls the cops.” I nod at Evie so he knows who I’m talking about. “Your choice.”
A redheaded woman pushes between the onlookers and tugs on Sebastian’s arm. When it’s clear he’s not planning to move, she says something in his ear. That seems to be enough to get him to leave the bar. I follow them.
Patrick and the other man aren’t outside when I exit the building, and the parking lot is empty of people. Dusk is settling over the town like a blanket, the long, dim shadows swallowing up the area.
“Do you know who I am?” I ask Sebastian.
“Do I look like I give a fuck who you are?”
Given that he’s partly responsible for my brothers and I being in limbo when it comes to the Wakefields’ land, I try not to take his slight too personally.
“Does the name Lucas Carson ring a bell?”
He eyes me with the intensity of a mosquito that wants to suck my blood. Guess that answers that.
“So what is it you really want the Wakefields’ property for?” I ration a small amount of patience into my tone.
Something heavy and hard hits me on the side of the head. Whatever Sebastian’s answer is, I don’t get to hear it.
Everything goes black.
32
