“She’s working part-time. Jewls says they are saving for a vacation.”
“Does Rich know?”
“He’s the one who took us there.”
“Sly fuck,” I hiss. He had the opportunity to tell me, but this is his way of pushing up my timeline. Blindsiding me into knowing that Harley is working in a bar is not a problem.
Harley working at Tom’s is.
Then it hits me like a force so solid I swallow down the roar. I met Tom through Rich ages ago. Word is, he retired and opened a bar, and for that, all the guys on the force go there. I haven’t visited him since moving back. The last month in the academy I heard rumblings. The guys dropping the name of the bar with the ‘hot babe’ bartenders. I had no interest.
Now that I’m aware they were referring to Harley and Jewls, my mind has changed.
“She’s working tonight at five,” Major offers the information breezily.
“Guess that’s where we’re headed?” Ford assumes.
“Bet your ass.”
“Feel obligated to tell you Jay’s pretty popular amongst the crowd.” Talon takes his phone back.
“No surprise there.”
“I’m sure this will fall on deaf ears, but we just started this job. It’d suck to make enemies so quickly.”
“No enemies as long as my point is made.”
“What point is that?”
“Harley’s off-limits.”
We aren’t five feet in the door, and the hostile vibes are already rolling. “This is going to be a long night,” Ford utters under his breath as we make our way to the bar.
It’s relatively early, but the place is busy, almost every table occupied and the bar full. I stop a few feet away, taking in the place. It is exactly what you’d expect from a retired-cop-turned-bar owner. Not a typical sports bar with team gear and paraphernalia everywhere. Instead, pictures of cops through the years, patriotic flags, and emblems line the walls.
“It’s about time, Rookie.” Tom steps in front of me, his hand extended.
I take it, pulling him in for a one-armed hug. “Good to see you, old man.”
“Glad you're back home, Ace. Even more glad to know you’re in a different type of uniform.”
“Good to be here.”
“Any reason it’s taken this long to stop by?” He puts me on the spot.
“Been busy,” is all I offer.
“Rich tells me you had some close calls overseas.”
“We made it through.” I shrug, not wanting to discuss my operations in the Middle East. It doesn’t surprise me Rich shared them with Tom, but the subjects of my missions are mostly classified.
“Glad to have you back, Marine,” he repeats, squeezing my hand before releasing it. “Met two of these grunts last night. Who’s the other?”
“Ford.” Ford offers his hand.
“Rich mentioned you, too. Welcome to the force.”
There’s a loud roar from the other side of the bar, a half-dozen guys chanting something.
“Shit, I hope this doesn’t get messy,” Tom complains.
“What?”
“Started a ritual a few years ago. When a rookie makes their first arrest, I buy them a drink.”
“Generous.”
“Yeah, but this guy’s buddies are hell-bent on getting him plastered. Keep bragging about him being the first rookie in his class to get an arrest.”
I glance at my three friends and catch the amusement on their faces. Tom doesn’t miss it either, his own expression registering understanding.
“You beat him, Ace?”
“Maybe.”
“What shift?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
He looks over my shoulder, cocking an eyebrow.
“Second shift on the job. Pulled over a drunk with drugs and an unregistered firearm. Guy was blitzed, and he tried to fight his way past Ace until he found himself incapacitated. Woke up the next day with a wild hangover, and a face only a mother could love after being intimately acquainted with the concrete. Totally FUBAR,” Major fills him in.
“Shit, you fought him?”
“Didn’t have to. Once he lunged at me and fell into my fist, he lost balance and went down,” I answer.
“Who’s your Field Training Officer?”
“Hal Hanks.”
“I know him. Bet he loved that.”
“He may have enjoyed it.”
“Well, why the hell didn’t he bring you in here to celebrate?”
“Wasn’t a big deal.”
He studies me, a familiar grin forming on his lips. “First drink is on me.”
“Appreciate it, Tom.”
“Let’s get you a table.”
“Actually, we’re headed to the bar.”
“Nah, you men need space, and the bar’s crowded.”
“The bar is fine. We’ll make room.”
His grin goes to a full-out smile, his eyes lighting up. “It’s about time you ‘head to the bar’.” His meaning is clear.
He leads, taking us to the far side where four stools are empty. In front of them is a folded sign that reads Reserved.
“I had a feeling I’d need these seats tonight. But hear me now, Ace. I don’t want any trouble. You start shit, you answer to me.”
“Got it. No shit,” I agree.
“You’re a fucking terrible liar, boy. Remember that.”
He slaps me on the shoulder and walks away. I swear I hear the faint sound of whistling as he goes.
My eyes scan the area, not finding Harley anywhere. I’m thrown off balance, my ass almost sliding off the seat when a weight hits me from the side. Small arms wrap around my waist, and Jewls’ face flashes in view before she buries it in my chest.
“Hey, Jewls.” I squeeze her neck and kiss the side of her forehead. “Good to see you.”
She presses back, her bright eyes wide and shining. “So good to see you, Ace.”
“What about me?” Ford spreads his arms, and she moves into them.
“She’s in the stockroom. And you can thank me for those seats. I passed up an offer for two hundred dollars saving those.” Jewls turns to me. “You’re also late.”
“Late for what?”
“We started our shift at five.”
There isn’t a chance for me to answer before the catcalls sound out, and all the hair on the back of my neck stands.
“Oops, I better go help!”
My eyes stay trained on her as she runs to the end of the bar and Harley comes into view. She’s overloaded with liquor bottles, carefully balancing as she slides them to the edge, and Jewls takes them from her.
She laughs at something Jewls says, and then her eyes shift to me. There’s a flicker of surprise, her smile spreading as she steps around and comes my way. I do a quick scan over her.
Relief washes through me that her shirt isn’t nearly as tight or revealing as last night. Her hair is tied on top of her head, the curls escaping in all different directions. There’s a flash of something bright, and I chuckle under my breath when I notice her pink Converses. For all the years, she still loves those shoes.
“Hi, guys,” she says sweetly. “Did I miss the apocalypse?”