Unwilling to take the chance, Arizona pushed the pie away. But now, without Quin to talk to and with her targets all busy, she felt at loose ends.
She'd always had a problem with impatience.
At least Quin now had the number for her day-to-day cell. Hopefully he'd call. Hopefully he'd let her help. And soon.
She wanted to act, to "fix" things however she could, preferably by stomping on some bad guys. She had new respect for how Trace, Dare and Jackson handled the involved, multileveled stings that had brought about so much justice.
She tapped her fingertips on the bar, swung one foot in time to the music, glared at one leering drunk and wished Carl would hurry up and return to her so they could get the show on the road.
* * *
"HANG ON A SECOND, HONEY." Dodging graspy hands and a wet mouth, Spencer pulled the buzzing phone from his pocket. He flipped it open to see the message: Lights out in thirty.
Not a code, but from Dare. What did it mean? Unsure if he should anticipate a knockout, a blackout or both, he checked the time on his watch.
Unwilling to let the redhead kiss his mouth, Spencer dodged her again-and she bit his chin.
With a hand on her shoulder, he pressed her back. "Hold on, sugar." Quickly, before things got out of hand, he beeped back a confirmation of receipt and returned the phone to his pocket.
"Business?" she asked while settling back into her seat across from him.
"Nothing important." Should he round up Arizona and say to hell with it for the night? At the very least, he had to keep her close. Right now she looked bored, and that didn't bode well for anyone.
Then suddenly Terry Janes moved on past her again, heading down a hallway toward the back of the bar, past the bathrooms and kitchen.
And Spencer knew-he knew-exactly what Arizona was thinking.
It was uncanny how he could read her, but when she pushed off the bar stool without looking back at him, giving him no opportunity to dissuade her with a subtle signal, he knew it was to follow Janes.
When he got her alone again …
Thoughts scrambling, Spencer prepared to go after her, and to hell with their cover.
At the last second, it proved unnecessary.
With relief, he watched as she got sidelined by a new distraction.
* * *
GODDAMNED INTERRUPTIONS … He curled his hands into fists, locked his knees and accepted the inevitable.
Stalled, yet again.
For so many nights now, he'd waited for her to return to his bar. Now she was here, but nothing was yet settled.
Frustration clawed at the surface of his calm façade, a façade of control, of normalcy. He had to have her. Sooner would be better … but if forced to it, he could be patient.
Waiting often led to the best rewards.
For now, she was too nice, giving attention to those who didn't deserve it. Stupid bitch.
When the time was right, he'd teach her better.
But it wasn't that time yet. Not yet.
Soon.
CHAPTER TWELVE
"WAIT."
Thrown off by the interruption, Arizona peered down at the small, pale hand now latched onto her arm.
"Please." It was quickly retracted by a goofy little dweeb in thick glasses with an unruly head of brown hair half-hidden beneath a worn sports cap. "Wait."
Un-freaking-believable. Her brows rose with indignation. "Excuse me?"
"Look." Trembling, he thrust a large, stiff piece of paper toward her. "It's you."
She suspected the little guy had turned bright red, but low lighting made it impossible to tell. She didn't want to be rude, but she didn't have time for this. "What is it?"
Eyes darting everywhere, manner demure, he turned the pencil drawing around so that the light shone on it.
Oh, wow. It was her.
She eased closer to the small round two-seater table where he sat. He'd captured her likeness in profile. Amazed, Arizona studied the drawing he held.
Though she hadn't exactly posed-or sat still-he'd managed an accurate rendering that looked like her … except way better. He'd even given her a smile that seemed genuine instead of forced. And the drawing didn't emphasize her boobs or her legs.
Anyone looking at it would see no more than a young, carefree woman. He'd drawn her as innocent, even sweet.
She'd never admit it to anyone, but occasionally she wished she was that woman.
"I don't know what to say."
A bright smile lifted his homely features. "So you like it?"
"Well … yeah. It's terrific. Really flattering."
He ducked his face. "It's not as pretty as you are."
"Pffft." She had mirrors, but she knew she had never been that … soft. Or gentle.
As if surprised by her reaction, he looked up again. "I tried, but I didn't really do you justice." And then with a puzzled frown: "You don't know how pretty you are?"
On the round table rested a stack of papers, more pencils and a drawing pad. Huh.
Curiosity got the better of her, and she lifted the top drawing, but it was a still life of the jukebox and a booth. The one below it was the moon through the big front window, obscured by the thick iron bars. In the drawing, people filled the seats around the window, but they weren't the focus.
Ignoring his question, Arizona asked, "That's what you do?" She gestured at the papers. "You sit here in the Green Goose and draw?"
"I have to order food, too." He smiled shyly. "Otherwise they make me leave."
"Why here?"
"The lighting is good."
Yeah, right. Arizona eyed the dim lamp over his table. Only the bar area boasted real light, and even there it was more for effect than illumination. "Those strobe lights can't make it easy to draw."
"They give interesting shadows. And I can draw people without them knowing it, because they can't see what I'm doing." He frowned. "Or maybe they just don't care what I'm doing."
Sad. With his mismatched clothes and childish manner, Arizona wondered at his age-and maturity level. Definitely not a kid but … all there? She couldn't tell. "You're really good."
He adjusted his cap, shifted uncomfortably, then thrust the picture toward her. "It's for you. Keep it."
"Seriously? Gee, thanks." What the hell was she going to do with a pencil drawing of herself? Not like she could hang it in Spencer's home or on a motel wall. But no way did she want to hurt his feelings.
The noise swelled and ebbed around them. Someone jostled her, a couple edged past, two men laughed loudly.
Done wasting time, Arizona rolled it up and stuck it in her purse. The sketch was large enough that more than half stuck out of the top of her bag. She'd have to take care not to lose it. "Appreciate it."
Flickering lights gave a glimpse of his beatific smile.
Now where had Terry Janes gotten to? She'd lost sight of him, and no way could she go snooping in back rooms.
Spencer would have a fit.
But she needed to locate him. Had he known she was about to follow? Was he hiding from her? The smarmy bastard.
Before she could decide what to do, the artist caught her arm again. "I … I'm sorry. I don't mean to be pushy." Concern replaced his happiness. "But you don't want to talk to that one."
"Who?"
Swallowing hard, he hesitated, then darted a fearful gaze around the room. "The guy you were going to follow."
Damn it, was she really that easy to read? Arizona put her shoulders back in a cocky stance. "What makes you think I was going to follow anyone?"
"You've been watching him." Distressed, he removed the hat and twisted it in his hands. "I saw you."
After a more thorough scrutiny, Arizona figured him to be somewhere from his late-twenties to mid-thirties. He wasn't exactly homely, but, except for a small scar under his right eye, he was pretty nondescript.
At her lack of response, he shrugged. "Since I was drawing you, I noticed you asking about a job."
Even in the ever-shifting low lights, she could see the sincerity in his kind eyes. "What of it?"
Agonized, he looked around again, and then, rather than continue shouting to her, he pulled her in close. In a barely there breath of sound, he warned, "You don't want to work here."
An ally? Well, okay, then.
Sliding into the seat across from him, Arizona put her purse on the tabletop and leaned forward to meet him halfway. Matching his whisper, she asked, "Why not?"
"That guy you were going to talk to? That's Terry Janes. He owns the place."
This close to him, Arizona caught his scent, but it wasn't unpleasant. More like fresh honest sweat and the green outdoors. Maybe like how someone would smell after just walking in from a park or after mowing a lawn.