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A Perfect Storm(33)

By:Lori Foster


"That I'd have to talk to you." Quin had said no such thing, but she  wasn't about to get him into trouble. "That's why I came back. I was  hoping … well, do you need any more help here?"

Slowly, his mouth lifted in a smile. "As it turns out, the boss might be hiring."

"Seriously?" She perked up. "So, could I meet him?"

"Maybe." As if mesmerized, he watched the slow, playful movements of her  fingers toying with her hair. "What are your job skills?"

"Well … " Speaking over the music wasn't easy but no way would she suggest  they go somewhere more private. "I'm a people person. I promise I'd  work real hard. I'm always respectful."

With difficulty, he got his attention back on her face. "How old are you, honey?"

She didn't lie about that. "Twenty-one."

"Hmm." His eyes glittered in speculation. "Plenty old enough, then."

"That's what I keep saying!"

His big grin showed off strong white teeth. "The only job available would be waitressing."

"Oh, I don't mind that." She squeezed his hand and rushed on with gusto.  "I promise I'll always show up on time, and I'm never sick. I swear  that I'm a real quick learner-"

"I'll take it up with the boss." So saying, he glanced back at Terry Janes and nodded.

So she passed muster? Fools. She couldn't wait to teach them both a lesson.

Quin hesitated with her food, hovering nearby but not intruding.

Carl motioned him in. "Your meal is here." He patted her hand one last time. "Eat up, and then you can talk to him."

"Seriously?"

He tipped up her chin. "If all goes well and he hires you, one of us will show you around the place."

Uh-oh. She was supposed to stay where Spencer could see her. In the  briefest of glances, she met Spencer's gaze-and even in the darkness,  with the crazy effect of the lights, she saw that he did not look happy.

Had he guessed what Carl said? Judging by his ominous expression … yes.

Well, he'd just have to trust her to keep herself safe, because she refused to blow things now.

She pasted on a beaming smile. "I would love a quick tour. Thank you!"





CHAPTER ELEVEN


SPENCER FOUGHT THE URGE to bodily remove Arizona from the bar. Had she not listened to a damn thing he'd told her?                       
       
           



       

With every hour that passed, the bar got busier, the clientele more  hammered. Fewer people danced now, and even the dancers at the bar grew  sluggish, sort of swaying in boredom.

It was bad enough knowing Carl's thoughts, but Spencer knew the thoughts  of every other creep in the place, too. They each took turns watching  her, some more subtly than others, some outright leering.

The way she sat on that stool, her heart-shaped backside outlined by the snug skirt, her long, slim, shapely legs on display …

Spencer stopped staring long enough to notice another man burning a hole  in her with his hot gaze. He made no pretense of not lusting after her.

Yet another man whispered to his buddy while eyeing her, both of them  chuckling with suggestive grins. Seeing their amusement stirred  something dark and turbulent inside him.

He did his best to contain the primal reactions. If he went on a  rampage, he'd give up the game, and Arizona might never forgive him.

Some of the men were average-clean, not too drunk. Others had probably  been at the bar all day, maybe from the night before given their  red-eyed, slouched positions.

One elderly drunk in particular paced the aisle mumbling to himself and  reeking of booze and sweat. Another younger guy sat quietly at a small  table, doodling in a sketch pad.

Spencer wanted to annihilate them all-for doing exactly as Arizona wanted them to.

Even the barmaids cast her continual glances, some of them envious, some  resentful, a few only curious. Though they weren't in Arizona's league,  the women working inside the bar were mostly attractive, if somewhat  worn.

When a redhead approached him, Spencer gladly latched onto the  distraction. Mature enough, seasoned enough and definitely a customer,  not an employee, put her in the category of safe ground. She'd help him  blend in, which would give him better opportunity to watch over Arizona  without anyone noticing.

"Hello," she purred.

"Hello yourself." With all his attention focused on Arizona, the woman's  overblown assets and painted features didn't interest him. But he eyed  her boobs, displayed in a low-cut, sheer blouse, anyway. "Can I get you a  drink?"

"Honey, you can get me anything you want." She eased a full-size,  shapely rump into the seat across from him. "I haven't seen you here  before."

"Haven't been here before." Using the excuse of flagging a waitress, he  looked around and saw Arizona attempting to engage the young waiter in  conversation. She looked edgy, even a little dangerous.

Don't rush it, honey. Don't push.

Arizona had a natural-born tendency to defend the underdog, so Spencer didn't trust in her ability to maintain control.

When no waitress approached, Spencer asked Red, "What're you drinking?"

"Rum and Coke."

"Sit tight, then." He touched the hand she'd rested on the booth top. "I'll get it."

"I'm not going anywhere."

He was so anxious to send a signal to Arizona, he almost missed the  appreciative gaze of a barfly. At the last second, he winked at her.

After striding to the front of the crowded bar, he leaned past Arizona,  being sure to touch all along her back, and spoke to the bartender. "A  little service?"

Arizona looked up and back at him. Thank God she wasn't really eating  her food, was more or less moving it around the plate. She'd nibbled on a  corner of the sandwich, eaten a few bites of lettuce from her salad.

The bartender eyed his stance over her and scowled. "What do you need?"

"A drink for the lady." He nodded back at the booth where Red waited for him. "Rum and Coke."

"I'll get it right to you."

"Thanks." Easing away again, he let his body brush against Arizona. "Excuse me."

Luckily, the young waiter had used Spencer's timely interruption to escape Arizona's inquisition.

But Arizona didn't realize that yet. Her gaze went past Spencer to the  redhead-and sharpened. She didn't stare, but she took in the other  woman's attitude and appearance in mere seconds.

With her mouth tightening, she lifted her glass of tea, saying, "No  problem" in an offhand way that didn't fool him for a second.

Perfect.

Let her stew on his possible hook-up, Spencer thought, instead of  breaking heads. In the meantime, he'd keep Red company while watching  everyone else in the bar, remaining alert and ready to react if it came  to that.

With Arizona around, it could all go to hell in an instant.

* * *

AT THE EDGE OF AN OLD GARAGE locked up for the night, Dare stood outside  his rented black van and kept watch on the Green Goose. The air felt  thick with the threat of another summer storm. Dark clouds swam around  the moon.                       
       
           



       

The back of his shirt stuck to his skin. Mosquitoes buzzed nearby. He could smell oil, gasoline and old refuse.

The garage sat atop a rise off to the side of a rarely used bridge. It  gave him the perfect vantage point. He could see everything, and if  needed, he could be down to the road in under a minute.

His phone buzzed, so he dug it from his jeans' pocket and put it to his ear. Always cautious, he said nothing.

Trace asked, "Busy?"

"Waiting. Watching."

"It should be an uneventful night."

But with Arizona involved … anything could happen.

Dare knew they all shared concern for her. In such a short time, she'd  drawn them all in and won them over. It only took one look to see the  vulnerability she hid behind outlandish bravado.

They also recognized Arizona's genuine courage, caring and determination  to make the world a better place. Despite Arizona's rough edges, Dare  liked her a lot. And he respected her.

Having her back tonight was both a pleasure and an honor. "This call is just for confirmation?"

"For Jackson. He's prowling the floor."

Dare grinned. Jackson thought of Arizona as a kid sister. Add to that  his impending wedding and fatherhood, and Dare figured he had reason to  pace. "So why are you the one calling?"

"Because I was wondering … after you saw her, what did you think?"

"About how she looked?" He shrugged to himself. "I definitely noticed."

"Killer, right?"

He knew Trace mentioned it as a potential problem, not out of personal interest. "She's going to make Spencer insane."

"Probably." Trace made a rude sound. "But he can handle it."