“What are you, his social secretary?” Was this one of the big changes? It hadn’t been easy to see the Jack in the old days, but he didn’t remember the man having a gatekeeper like this one. You tried your luck at the bar and if the Jack had time, you pled your case and made your deal.
His joke didn’t go over well with the bartender. Her full lips pressed together.
“The Jack’s busy tonight.” Her tone was pissy and prissy.
And he was a sick, sick man for getting a little thrill from that. The woman had edges, ones he wouldn’t mind exploring. Not tonight, though. He’d come here for a reason and damned if he was leaving without what he came for.
“How the hell would you know that?”
“I’m psychic,” she said with a mocking smile.
“How about I ask the Jack myself?” He had to see the Jack tonight and if it took circumventing the pretty bartender, that’s what he would do.
“Not going to happen.” She broke eye contact, sweeping her gaze over his shoulder.
Ash set his drink down, then stood and braced his hands on the bar top. He leaned in, getting as close as he could, given the barrier between them. “Who’s going to stop me?”
She didn’t flinch. He had to give her props, the woman must have a spine of pure steel. He wasn’t physically scary—wiry didn’t seem to put the fear of anything into anyone—but he’d learned a few tricks about intimidation from corporate security over the last few years.
“They are,” she said, her eyes focused behind him.
Ash shifted sideways and saw the two big burly guys approaching. He was probably the same height, but they each looked double his size. It didn’t matter if their strength was real or augmented, they could easily put the hurt on him.
Deciding the bartender was the lesser threat, he turned to face them fully. He eased the tension out of his body and held his hands up. With guys this big, you had to move slowly and speak even slower.
“Problem?” The question wasn’t directed at him.
“Do we have a problem, sir?” the pretty bartender asked.
The “sir” was snotty and Ash swiveled his head to glare at her. “I need to see the Jack tonight. Is that a problem?” He didn’t dare take his eyes off the bouncers for too long. The big guy who hadn’t spoken looked at him funny.
“And I told you that’s not going to happen tonight,” she said. “Better luck next time.”
Ash ground his teeth together. She had an answer for everything and it was clear that the muscle looked to her for leadership. Maybe he should reevaluate his threat matrix.
Shit. After his meeting with Portia, he’d spent the whole day making and discarding plans. When he’d decided to approach the Jack for help, he’d worried about paying for assistance, not getting in. Getting stymied by a hot, stubborn bartender had never crossed his mind.
The bouncers stepped closer.
“How much?” he blurted.
The men stopped moving, so Ash focused on the bartender.
She stared at him, brow raised, a mocking smile on her lips. “How much what?”
Dammit, she knew what he was asking. “Everything for a price, right? How much to get in to see the Jack tonight?”
She didn’t even pretend to consider his offer. “Not tonight.”
“Why not?” Ash wasn’t leaving until he saw the Jack or they dragged him out.
“Because the Jack is busy tonight.” The chill in her voice rivaled Portia’s. “Get him out of here,” she told the bouncers.
“It’s an emergency!” The words slipped out.
Security stopped where they were. One directed a questioning glance at the bartender. Ash’s gaze bounced between them while “emergency” hung in the air.
Echoing his earlier pose, the bartender had dropped her arms and had her hands braced on the bar, leaning forward. “Seriously?”
