“They said the Executioners are under investigation.Something about one of them organizing a robbery.”His voice shakes, more rage than fear.“And that you’ve been seen all over with that biker.You know the one… Are you helping them?”
The room goes still.The regulars stop pretending not to listen.
“Let’s talk outside,” I plead.“Please.”
He slaps his palm on the bar, rattling glassware.“You lied to me.”
“Keep your voice down,” I squeak.
The bar goes dead quiet.The tourists stare.The locals look away.Sugar’s halfway to the phone, eyes wide.
“Why?”His laugh is sharp and wrong.“You didn’t keep anything else down, did you?Why does it say whore on your apartment building?”
I feel the blood drain from my face.
“Blake,” I whisper.
He moves in, so close that I can smell the fruity gum he chews.“It’s true, isn’t it?You and that biker trash.You’re fucking.”
I can’t answer.I can’t lie anymore.The silence is answer enough.
His voice rises, ugly now.“Jesus, Carol.You’re a slut.He’s married, for Christ’s sake.His wife called me in tears.”
Something breaks behind my ribs.
“Let’s go outside to talk,” I say, still trying to calm him as everyone balks.
“No, Carol.Let’s do this here.”He pulls a pretty present out of his coat.“See this.I wanted to propose on Christmas, but you were too shaken up from the robbery.”
“I was shaken.I swear I didn’t have a hand in any robbery,” I say, talking more to the crowd than him.
“You wanted a show of it.But I wanted to do it at my parent’s place in front of people who matter to me.Not in this damn twilight zone town of weirdos.”
You can hear a pin drop in the bar.
Then the sound of an engine cuts through the hush, low, angry, familiar.
The door swings open.
Humbug.
Leather, beard, snow still melting on his shoulders.He fills the doorway like a storm that’s been waiting for an excuse.
He takes one look at me, at Blake, and I see it, his face going stone.
“Problem here?”he growls.
Blake turns on him.“Yeah, there’s a problem.You’re the bastard who…”
He doesn’t finish.Humbug steps between us, calm but dangerous, like gravity made of muscle.
“Watch your mouth,” he warns Blake.
Blake laughs, nervous and mean.“You gonna hit me?That’s what men like you do?”
Humbug doesn’t move.“You call her a slut again, I might.”
I look over at Sugar who was at the phone.She must’ve called him.
