He couldn’t meet my gaze. Knowing there was nothing I could say to change Mr. Rhodes’ mind—or my record—I headed out to drop off more resumes on the way home.
***
By the time I made it back to the fire station, it was early afternoon and the Copper Penny was open for business, so I stopped by the club-owned bar to see Flint, the main manager who sometimes threw work my way. Flint was a good, fair man. He’d served as a captain in the Navy, and he ran his bar like it was his ship. Keeping his shit clean, maintained, organized, and staffed only by the motherfuckers he trusted, leaky faucets and shady employees alike were dealt with swiftly and efficiently.
Built in the twenties and last renovated sometime in the late seventies, though well-kept, the building itself was dated as hell. Wood floors, wood paneling, and an arched wood ceiling made it look like a lumberjack’s wet dream. The ventilation system was shit, and decades’ worth of patrons had all left their individual scents behind to blend with stringent cleaner, fried food, and the relentless stench of old cigarette smoke. It always took me a few shallow breaths to build up a tolerance to the stench.
In My Darkest Hourby Megadeth was playing over the speakers as I entered, and I couldn’t help but chuckle. This was far from my darkest hour, but life wasn’t exactly sunshine and roses, either. Desperate to turn my luck around, I slid onto a barstool and waved Flint over. Giving me a nod, he wrapped up his conversation with one of the waitresses and approached.
“Stocks,” he said by way of greeting, sliding a menu in front of me. “Can I get you something, or are you just here lookin’ for work again?”
Damn. He made me sound so desperate. I had the menu memorized, so I left it where it was. “Both. A Ruben with fries, please. And a water. You need me tonight?”
He tapped on the bar. “Not tonight, but we’re planning to close down the bar in a couple of weeks to fix the ventilation system and put in the new floors. Wasp’ll be sending out a text to let everyone know, but if you’re available, we sure could use the help. Pay’s the same.”
Link and Flint had been pushing for a remodel for a while, and the club had finally saved enough money to make it happen. We’d voted a little over a month ago, and the decision to move forward was unanimous. Apparently I wasn’t the only one who hated the stink of the place.
“Of course. I’ll be here.” And hopefully Flint would need me before that. A week and a half would be too long to go without work, and nobody seemed to want to hire a one-legged former Marine with a record. “Glad to hear the old place is finally getting those updates.”
He grinned, splitting his weathered face in half. “Me too. We’ll get this place hoppin’ again, and then we’ll need to hire you on full time.” He set a glass of water down in front of me. “I’ll go put in your order.”
While I appreciated his enthusiasm, I had no desire to be a full-time bouncer. Still, I’d take whatever I could get. Pulling out my phone to keep me busy while I waited for my food, I realized I had a text from the club princess.
Naomi: Where are you? Why aren’t you at the fire station?
She’d kick my ass if she ever found out I referred to her as royalty, even though I never said the nickname aloud. It wasn’t unusual for one of the ol’ ladies to contact me, but it wasn’t exactly common, either. As a prospect, I used to guard them when brothers asked me to, but since Naomi was a former Air Force combat search and rescue pilot, she didn’t much need or appreciate protection. Wondering what she wanted, I messaged her back.
Me: I’m at the Copper Penny. What’s up?
Naomi: Stay there. I’ll be over in a minute.
Finishing off my water, I watched the door. Within minutes, Naomi came barreling in. Her long blonde hair was up in a messy bun and she was wearing jeans and a sweatshirt. Lips pursed, she zeroed in on me and marched right over, stopping in front of my stool.
“What are you up to today?” she asked.
“Currently, I’m waiting on a sandwich. Flint doesn’t need me, so…” I shrugged. “Do you have something you need me to do?”
“Yes. Absolutely. You and I are driving down to Portland.” She frowned, took a deep breath, and then shook herself. “I mean, please will you accompany me to Portland?”
Naomi was used to giving orders, so I never took that shit personally. Besides, it was clear to see that something had her riled up. “Sure. When? What’s going on?”
“Now? Eagle has to work, and Dad and Margo are watching Maya for me. I need to be back before they run out of pumped milk for her. Look, I know this is last minute and everything, but Monica needs us.”
Her mention of the sexy knock-out who’d rocked my world drew my full attention. “Monica’s in Portland?” The prospect of seeing the self-professed queen again piqued my interest, until everything else Naomi said sunk in. “She needsus? Is she okay?”
“No.” Naomi leveled a stare at me. “If she was okay, I wouldn’t be here thinking about dragging your ass off this stool so we can get in my car and go to her.” She let out a shaky breath. “Sorry. I’m just… worried. I got a call from her parents and… I’m going to beat the shit out of her. After I make sure she’s okay. Then we’re bringing her here, kicking and screaming if need be, so she can get help, which is why I need you.”
Nothing Naomi said made sense. She didn’t usually talk in circles like this, but I’d never seen her this rattled. “You thinkIcan help her?”
Her gaze dropped to my prosthesis, hidden beneath my jeans and sneakers. “Yes. And I don’t fight fair. Monica and I have always had this agreement, a show-no-weaknesses understanding that we held one another to. We could be real with each other, but in front of the rest of the world… emotions make women look moody or unstable. Especially in the military. I saw the way she looked at you at my party, and I know you two hooked up afterwards. I’ll get her to open up, and then you’ll swoop in and remind her she needs to be a badass.”
The Monica I’d met—the Monica who’d told me she had plans to sit on my face within minutes of meeting me—would never need anyone to remind her of who she was. Her confidence had oozed out of her pores, drawing me in like pheromones. I couldn’t imagine a scenario where she’d need an ego boost. “What happened to her?”
Flint chose that moment to appear with my food.
Naomi gave him an impatient smile. “Hey Flint. Can Stocks get that to go? Please?” To me, she added, “I’ll explain on the way.”
Confused, Flint looked to me. I shrugged. “Apparently I have to go remind a beautiful woman she can still kick my ass.”
