The bartender walked away without a word.
“So… you’re a high-dollar bitch,” he said, but there was an air of appreciation in it.
I jiggled my glass, letting the liquid slosh around a bit. “Tick-tock. So far I’ve learned you’re a cheap asshole.” I grimaced. “Not winnin’ me over.” Then I took another sip.
I still wasn’t sure this was the right course of action, but undercover work wasn’t my forte. As a cop, I’d always been direct and blunt. I hadn’t ever needed to wiggle my way into a suspect’s world, although I was smart enough to know it usually took days, weeks, or even months. It sure didn’t happen with a single encounter.
Not to mention I was going to end up drunk if I kept playing this game.
That meant I needed to speed things along. The only way Razor was going to tell me what I needed to know was if I spoke his language. Force.
Thankfully, Razor seemed to like my hard-to-get game.
“What do you want to know?” he asked with a grin.
“What do you do? What are your hobbies?” I narrowed my gaze. “Are you married?”
“I work in security,” he said, resting a forearm on the counter. “I like to drink. And I don’t believe in tyin’ myself down.”
I resisted the urge to groan in frustration. This shithead wasn’t giving me much to work with. Maybe I should try another tactic.
I rolled my eyes. “Boring.” Then I turned away from him and faced the wall, dismissing him.
The bartender set a tumbler on the counter, and Razor motioned to him. “She just called me borin’. Can you believe that?” He released a hearty laugh.
The bartender didn’t respond, just walked away.
Razor leaned closer to me and lowered his voice, making it sound menacing. “I’m the farthest thing from borin’, sweetheart.”
“Talk is cheap.”
“Want me to prove it to you?”
I turned my head slightly to glance at him and lifted a disinterested brow. “How do you plan on doin’ that?”
He studied me for a long moment, drained his entire glass, then hopped off his stool. “Watch this.”
My gaze followed him as he headed over to a table with three men. He stopped next to the table, towering over a man whose back was to me. The man froze, then looked up at Razor.
“Get outta here,” Razor grunted, glaring down at the guy.
“What the hell, Razor?” the guy shouted.
“I said get the fuck out of here, or I’ll beat your ass out of here.”
The man stood and turned to face Razor. He was several inches shorter, so he lifted his chin to stare up at him. For a moment, I thought he was going to challenge Razor, but then he took a step back.
“I was leaving anyway,” he spat, before turning to head toward the exit.
“Chicken shit,” Razor said with a laugh. He took a step and reached out to grab the guy’s shoulder and jerk him backward before spinning him around. Razor pulled back his arm and uppercut him under the chin.
The man crumpled to the ground and his friends jumped up and ran around their table. No one else moved, not even the bartender. They flicked a glance to Razor and the guy, then turned back to their conversations.
Keeping a cautious glance on Razor, who was laughing, the guys hooked their hands under their friend’s upper arms and dragged him, unconscious, out the door.
As soon as the door closed behind them, Razor turned toward me, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. “Still think I’m borin’?”
This man was unhinged. If I were smart, I’d walk out as soon as it was safe to do so. But that would mean leaving without answers, and I wasn’t willing to do that.
