That one landed.
He straightens slightly and taps two fingers against the bar.
“Let’s try this again,” he says slowly. “Your boss here runs a nice place. Good crowd, steady business. It would be a real shame if something happened that made people stop coming around.”
The room grows noticeably quieter.
My shoulders shift slightly against the chair.
There it is.
Not even pretending anymore.
Wayne’s rag stops moving again, and the bartender leans forward, resting both hands on the counter while she looks up at the man in front of her.
She has to tilt her chin slightly because of the height difference.
Doesn’t look like it bothers her.
“Is that supposed to be a threat?” she asks.
The man shrugs like the idea doesn’t mean much to him.
“Just an observation.”
She doesn’t blink.
Instead she tilts her head slightly and studies him for a second before answering.
“Here’s an observation for you,” she says calmly. “You’ve been in here twice this week bothering the same man about the samething. If you come back again, you’re going to find out exactly how much patience I have left.”
My chest tightens again.
Jesus.
Small girl.
Big mouth.
And absolutely no fear in her eyes.
Most people back down when someone starts hinting at broken windows and problems like that.
She looks like she’s about five seconds away from telling him exactly where he can shove his protection racket.
For some reason that makes it very hard to look anywhere else.
The man studies her for a long moment.
Then he taps the counter again.
“You’ve got a big mouth for someone your size.”
She smiles sweetly.
“And you’ve got a lot of confidence for someone who walked into the wrong bar.”
Behind him one of the other men scans the room.
