Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 72325 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 362(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72325 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 362(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
The dining area emptied as people headed home. This was a working-class neighborhood in Brooklyn, and a lot of our customers had to get up early. Besides, there were other options for those who wanted to stay out all night.
Rock seemed to be in that category. He nursed his drink, occasionally scowling at his phone.
I took advantage of the lessening crowd to clean up behind the bar. Maybe, just maybe, I’d get out of here at a reasonable time tonight.
Two men in their twenties were seated at the bar, and a group of two men and four women at a table fifteen feet away. Rock was still there, reading a newspaper that someone had left. I popped the register open to put some more money in, my gaze on notes piled on top of one another. Just as I shoved a twenty-dollar note into the correct pile, the distinct sound of a gun cocking filled my ears. I froze, my gaze still on the cash register. Another, identical sound sent shivers of fear down my spine. My heart jumping in my throat, I looked up. The two young men were standing in front of me, their guns pointed at my head.
“Give us the money, gorgeous.”
My frozen mind wouldn’t thaw, and I just stared at him. He looked hardly old enough to grow a beard, let alone rob a bar.
“Now, darling,” the other one said. I got called things like that a lot while bartending, but not usually while guns were pointed at me.
Smugness filled both men’s faces. Clearly, they thought they had me right where they wanted me. That they could do whatever they wanted by virtue of having guns.
And that pissed me off. The desire to knock the smug looks right off of their faces somehow made my brain kick into gear, and I knew what to do.
“Hey assholes.”
A deep voice from behind the men made them turn and look. Rocco came to a halt behind those two, his dark eyes flashing red in the dim illumination.
As he did so, I ducked under the counter.
Not for protection, but for the double barrel shotgun my manager kept there. She’d trained all the staff how to use it.
I pointed it at the men while their attention was Rocco. He looked pissed as hell. Suddenly, I was afraid. Not for my own safety, but that he might do something stupid and get himself thrown into jail.
“Hey assholes,” I said firmly, echoing Rock’s words. They turned back to me, one man’s mouth dropping open as he saw the gun in my hands.
They’d made a mistake in turning their back on a man like the Rock. He moved up behind them and slammed both their heads into the bar. Hard.
One man’s gun skittered away. The other guy held onto his pistol, and it was pointed at me. Shit.
I changed up my grip on the shotgun and brought the butt down on his wrist. He yelped and dropped the gun. I batted it away from his hand.
“Call the police,” I shouted toward the people at the nearest table as I trained my gun on the men who were now bleeding from their noses and looking dazed. My plan was to hold them there until the police came, but that plan was ruined when the shotgun was wrenched out of my hands.
Astonished, I stared as Rock tossed my shotgun out of the way. “Go back in the kitchen,” he growled. “I’ll take care of these two.”
What the hell?
He didn’t even work here. What right did he have to snatch my gun away? I opened my mouth to say as much, but the murderous look in his eyes stopped me.
The smaller of the two men rallied and tried to throw a punch at the big man, which he easily deflected. Then he decked him, sending him slumping onto the bar again. The Moron #2 tried it and got the same result.
I picked up an empty beer stein and started to bring it down on the punk’s head, but again, Rock stopped me. “I got this,” he repeated gruffly.
Who the hell did he think he was, our bouncer? This place couldn’t afford one and usually didn’t need it.
But if we did, Rock was clearly up to the job. He took swings at each man in turn since they were too stupid to give up. It almost looked like he was having fun. He’d shove one, then punch the other. Then turn back to deal with the first.
“Does your mom know you’re out this late?” Rocco growled, his voice rising over their groans. “Does she, you fuckheads?”
“Stop,” one cried. Yeah, that did a lot of good.
“What are you hassling us for?” the other one sounded stuffy, as if his nose was broken.
“What are you hassling her for,” Rock countered with a growl, gesturing toward me.