Kyler's Justice (Assassins of Gravas Book 3) - N.J. Walters Page 0,10
them even more attention. “Him?” He swiped his hand over his face. “Balthazar looks out for himself. Now if he could find a way to use her to his benefit, he would.”
The smile faded from Moe’s face. “Aye, we thought we’d seen the last of her, but she showed up some months back. Whatever he got her involved in wasn’t good.”
Kyler’s senses began to hum. Awareness crept over his skin, making it prickle. He turned his head slowly, scanning as much of the room as he could without being obvious about it. There were several men paying particular attention to them. One of them with malicious intent.
His instincts were never wrong.
“What did he get her involved in?”
Moe shoved away from the table. “Nothing. I shouldn’t have said anything. And if you’re smart, you won’t ask again. Just stay away from Etta and you won’t have any trouble.” Warning given, he hurried away and rejoined a group at the far side of the bar.
“Making friends?”
Now his senses were humming for a whole other reason. Etta stood beside the table, her magnificent hair bundled up behind her head, her cheeks flushed an enticing pink. The floral scent of the cleansing gel she’d used mixed with spices, giving her an exotic and memorable scent. Her arms were crossed beneath her breasts, accentuating the mounds. Intentional or unintentional? Either way, it was provocative.
And he had a good idea what she’d look like beneath her clothing. The top she’d worn to sleep in last night had been the same blue of her eyes. The material had been thin enough to allow him to see the outline of her nipples, something he’d managed not to focus on too intently at the time.
Now, his body instantly responded, his dick jumping to attention.
Ignoring his growing arousal, he nodded to the vacated chair. “Moe was warning me off.” Direct and honest often gained more information than subterfuge.
Her brow furrowed. “He was what?”
“He was warning me to stay away from you. Seems you have some protectors here.”
Her gaze softened and her lips parted in surprise. “Really?” She glanced over at the table where Moe sat and gave him a small wave when he raised his ale in salute.
“Former lover?” His question was sharper than he’d intended. Didn’t matter to him if she’d had dozens of lovers. Was actually better since it would dull some of the innocent aura that radiated from her.
“Moe? God, no. He’s my father’s age. I practically grew up in this bar. I’ve known him my entire life. There are a lot of people here that I know. You, however, are a stranger.” Since she refused to sit, he stood. The higher he rose, the more her eyes widened. She swallowed, her slender throat rippling.
Was it bruised? The pulse in her throat pulsed wildly. He made her nervous.
“What are you doing?” she demanded.
“Since you won’t sit, I’ll stand.” Not only was it good manners, but it also flustered her. Keeping her off-balance was the key to getting information.
She pointed at the chair. “Sit.”
“If you do.” He’d stand there all night if he had to. She might think she was stubborn, but she’d met her match in him.
With a roll of her eyes, she dragged out a chair and slumped down. “Fine. Are you happy?”
“For now.” He retook his seat.
“Do you have any idea how annoying it is to not be able to see your face? You’re nothing more than a big black blob and a deep voice.” She tapped her fingers on the table.
His lips twitched. He’d been called many things in his life, but never that. He remained silent. How far could he push her?
“I had a visitor last night.” She abruptly changed the course of the conversation. Her gaze was direct, her words calculated to get a response. This was not a woman to underestimate for all her charm.
“Good for you.”
She sat back in her chair and crossed her legs, appearing outwardly relaxed. This was the woman who’d attacked him with a knife, the same one he’d tucked away before he’d stood.
“You wouldn’t know anything about that, now would you?”
“Why would I?” This reluctance to lie to her was off-putting. Better to toss a question back at her.
“Who knows the minds of men?” It was said so deadpan, he chuckled. It was over in a heartbeat, but it was a genuine laugh. Something he hadn’t done in so long he couldn’t remember.
“He was a big guy, like you. Dressed all in black.”