The man slid the other coins off the bar, filled two glasses from the pump, and set them on the bar with a clunk. “I wouldn’t have much business if I was known for opening my mouth when I shouldn’t.” He nodded his head toward the center of the room.“Plenty of others here happy to take your coin for opening their traps.”
Zayn nodded and took a sip of his ale. Ria watched his throat work and hastily picked up her own drink. Alcohol wasn’t something she indulged in often.
“Damn, that’s good.” He took another sip.
She followed suit, then coughed. “It’s horrible.”
“Homemade, a little rough around the edges.” He rubbed the condensation off his glass, his gaze scanning the room. “But it has a certain charm.”
Just like the man drinking it.
“Come on, Ms. Assassin. Let’s find someone who knows where Lastite Lala likes to hang out.”
They circled the room, wary gazes following their progress. Ria studied the occupants. “Drunk, happy crowd in the corner might be willing to help.”
He studied them. “Maybe.” He took another step when someone stepped in front of him cutting off his path.
“Looking for something, sugar?” the woman purred.
A waft of perfume hit Ria and made her eyes water. The woman had an impossibly small waist and huge breasts barely contained by her red gown.
Ria rolled her eyes. “We’re fine.”
The woman’s dark eyes flicked to her. “Honey, I’m sure the man can talk for himself.” The woman reached out and ran a finger down the buttons of Zayn’s shirt.
Ria arched a brow. “Yes, he can. And I can talk fine too, along with a whole lot of other things I can do.” She leaned forward and lowered her voice. “Like killing people in a thousand different ways.”
The woman’s eyes widened.
“I like seeing you jealous,” Zayn whispered.
“I am not jealous.”
“Betty, sweetheart, Jason Garrett just walked in, why don’t you go make him feel welcome?” Another woman, this one in an emerald-green dress, nudged the red-dressed one away. “We don’t need any bloodshed here. My girls mean well, and I don’t like seeing them hurt.”
The newcomer had a whisky-deep voice and stunning, dark looks. Ria wasn’t happy to see that this woman was probably around Ria’s age and exceptionally beautiful. Her slim but curvy figure was accented to perfection by her corset and her dark hair was loose in curls. Her makeup was discreet, kohl accenting unique silver eyes.
Her intelligent gaze drifted over Ria and settled on Zayn. “You aren’t a cowboy.”
He smiled. “Not usually.”
The woman tilted her head. “My name’s Ursalla. I run the business…upstairs.” She flicked some hair back over one creamy shoulder.
Ria watched Zayn watch the move. Was he really attracted to a woman who sold herself to the highest bidder? She felt a rush of something hot and ugly.
“Let me guess…” Ursalla took her time, letting her gaze linger over every inch of Zayn. “You strike me as a man who likes to go fast. Pilot.” Her red-lipped smile widened. “I like it fast, too.”
“You’re good,” he said.
“Honey, you ain’t seen nothing yet. But I’d be happy to show you.”
Ria almost choked. When Zayn’s smile grew, she wanted to reach out and hit him.
“You come in here looking for something, Mr. Not-a-Cowboy?” Ursalla asked.
He tipped his hat up. “Most definitely.”
“Well, I’d offer to give it and much, much more, but—” her silver eyes flicked to Ria “—I think your lady might take a swing at me.”
