She reached for the Jack Daniel’s at the same moment I finished pouring a draft, her hand landing on the bottle without hesitation.I slid a rocks glass down the bar and she caught the tumbler, already measuring two fingers of whiskey through practiced ease.The trucker waiting for the drink tipped her five dollars and walked away.
“Bud Light and a shot of Cuervo,” someone called from the far end.
Marci moved before I did, sneakers whispering against the floor.I grabbed the tequila while she pulled the draft, our bodies passing close in the narrow space behind the bar.Her shoulder brushed my arm and her shampoo cut through the usual mix of beer and old wood.She set the beer in front of the customer and I placed the shot beside the pint, both movements so smooth they felt coordinated even though we had never discussed a single thing.
The front door creaked and Maui stepped inside, blocking afternoon light behind his broad frame.His swept the bar with his gaze, sharp and curious, and the grin arrived the second he noticed how well Marci and I worked together.
He dropped onto his usual stool.I poured him water, knowing he always started there before shifting to beer, and sent the glass his way.Marci caught the tumbler mid-slide and set the drink in front of him, a polite smile hovering on her mouth but never turning warm.Still guarded.Still waiting to see whether this place would turn on her.
“Mahalo.”Maui took a long drink.His grin widened.“You two got comfortable real quick.”
Color climbed up Marci’s throat, soft pink spreading across her skin.Something about the sight hit hard.A sudden urge to drag my thumb across that warmth blindsided me so fast I had to look away before the thought reached my face.
I met Maui’s eyes and gave him a look meant to shut the topic down.His grin only widened, the bastard, and he took another long drink like no warning had reached him.
“Been working together.”I tried to steady my voice.“Getting the routine down.”
“So that’s the name for it now?”Maui kept an innocent tone while amusement sparkled in his eyes.“A routine.”
A small sound came from Marci, something caught between a laugh and embarrassment, and she focused on wiping the already clean counter.She traced tight circles on the surface with her finger, shoulders rising from the strain coiled through her body.Not fear of her ex, Mercer.Something different.Something tied to whatever existed between us, something we hadn’t spoken aloud, and Maui picked up in seconds.
The bar started filling.Miller arrived first, same as always on his Friday route.The construction crew followed, loud and dusty from work.Local regulars settled into their corner tables in their usual rhythm.
Ravager and Rebel stepped through the door next.They nodded at me before taking the corner booth where they could see everything.Atilla’s rotation had kicked in.Around Marci at all times during her shifts.Protection disguised as brothers grabbing a drink.
I poured their Buds and set out pretzels.Marci delivered them the moment I slid the basket across the bar.She knew their habits now, knew every glass to refill before anyone asked, and understood the safety their presence offered even if trust still came slow.
The room grew louder.Conversations stacked over one another, laughter cut through the noise, pool balls cracked at the back tables, and the jukebox kicked on with an old Merle Haggard song.My body moved through the crowd on instinct.
Even in that rhythm, my attention stayed locked on Marci’s location.I tracked her the way I tracked threats.When the construction guys got rowdy, I shifted until I stood between them and her station.When a stranger walked in wearing a clean button-down instead of work clothes or leather, my focus sharpened before he found a seat.
Marci reached past me for the vodka, and her arm brushed my chest.A brief touch, barely half a second.Heat shot through me like a live wire.She pulled back fast, color rising along her throat again.Breathing suddenly felt impossible.
“Sorry,” she said.
“No need.”
Our eyes caught.The rest of the noise faded to nothing.Her pupils were wide, her breath quickening, and the truth settled between us.She felt the same pull.The same spark growing between us since her first night here.Since I helped her breathe through panic.Since I put myself between her and the world hunting her.
Maui cleared his throat louder than necessary.“Any chance a guy could get a beer now?”
The moment snapped.Marci turned away, hands trembling slightly as she grabbed a glass.I reached for the craft bottle Maui preferred, popped the cap, and set the beer in front of him.His grin dropped away, a hard seriousness taking over his expression.
“She is good people.”His voice was low and meant for me alone.“Do not screw this up.”
“I know.”
“And you already fell hard enough that losing her will rip you wide open.”
No denial came.Couldn’t.He saw everything I didn’t say.Three days under my roof and my world had already rearranged itself around her comfort and safety.I had already stepped into danger for her without hesitation.Already listened for every sound from my room each night, ready to move the second she needed me.
And I wasn’t turning back.
My eyes never stopped working.The door stayed under constant review, along every window and every face shifting toward her.A perimeter formed around her without conscious thought, a silent warning announcing she mattered and anyone trying to reach her would answer to me first.
The stranger in the pressed button-down finished a single beer and walked out.My attention followed until he climbed into his sedan, and the license plate fixed in my memory.Maybe harmless.Maybe passing through.I planned to send the information to Spade anyway.
Mercer hunted somewhere beyond these walls.Until we ended his reach, every unknown person counted as a possible threat.Every dark corner held danger.Every calm moment felt like the breath before violence.
