Kyler's Justice (Assassins of Gravas Book 3) - N.J. Walters Page 0,2

but to not order would raise suspicions.

The waitress nodded and wound her way back toward the bar, ignoring the catcalls and lewd suggestions tossed at her by the inebriated patrons.

A low growl rumbled from deep in his chest. For as much as he’d seen in his thirty years, the ill treatment of women and children never failed to anger him. The men here had little honor or loyalty.

Not my problem.

The mantra was one he’d chanted many times over the years. His job was to remain unseen and unheard as he carried out his mission, not change the universe.

Leaning back in his chair, he scanned the room, marking all the closed doors and possible exits. The establishment was larger than it appeared from the outside. Beyond this main area were several other levels, accessed through wide, open entryways. The bar was the best lit part of the place. Games of chance were conducted on the upper levels. Down here was primarily for drinking and eating.

From the research he’d conducted, and the intel he’d received from the king, Hell’s Gate was owned by a man named Helldrick, who conveniently happened to be Balthazar’s father. Made sense he’d flee here now that his empire on Tortuga was no more.

Patience was the key. Eventually, Balthazar would show his face or someone would let something slip. When that happened, he’d be ready.

Not like he had anything else to do.

The waitress was two tables away, tray in hand, distributing ale and other beverages as she worked her way back to him, when a man grabbed her ass. She jolted at the unexpected assault and the tray tipped. Like dominoes falling, the metal containers slid from the tray and crashed onto the table, sending a spray of ale everywhere.

Several men jumped up. “What the hell, woman?” one of them roared. His fist swung toward her. Kyler was halfway out of his chair when the unmistakable sound of an ancient laser rifle being activated broke through the noise.

The man froze, his fist hovering midair. The entire place went quiet, except for the music piped in over the speakers, which suddenly seemed overloud and out of place.

“Hit her and I’ll shoot your damn hand off.”

Kyler eased back into his seat and took a deep breath. His heart was racing. Not out of fear, but because of the vision advancing toward the group. A hint over five and a half feet, her skin was pale, her hair a shimmering gold that fell in waves around her shoulders, and her lips a delicate shade of pink.

Sensual heat wrapped around him like a warm hug.

The unusual sensation was startling. When was the last time he’d been attracted to a woman? He shrugged off the question. Sex was off the table, no matter how pleasurable it might be. No one could know or guess his real purpose.

But she might be a good source of information.

Like an avenging goddess, she swooped down and grabbed the woman by the arm. “You okay?”

The woman nodded. “Yeah. Got grabbed by a customer.” She nodded toward the angry man. “Sorry about the ale. I’ll replace it.”

Anger burned in his gut. It wasn’t her fault, but he understood her reasoning. The avenging goddess couldn’t always be around to protect her. Smoothing things over now would be better for her in the long run.

The golden-haired woman’s frown deepened, but she lowered the weapon. “The bar will replace it.”

The men at the table grunted. The one standing dropped his fist and nodded before retaking his seat.

But she wasn’t done. She swiveled around and glared at the man who’d grabbed the waitress. “This is your fault, Wallace. Do something stupid like that again and you won’t be getting back through the front door.”

The man named Wallace jumped to his feet, his face turning red. “You got no say in this, Etta. Your father owns this place, not you.”

Everything inside him stilled. This golden vision was Etta Mortis, Helldrick’s daughter. That meant she was Balthazar’s sister. Ice formed in his chest, freezing out any hint of emotion. His hand was clenched on the table. It took more effort than it should for him to relax his fingers.

There’d been no images of her in the dossier he’d received on his prey—an oversight that he needed to rectify as soon as possible.

Etta poked the man in the chest. “Fine, then you tell him why I stopped cooking, because that’s what I’ll do if this happens again. And when Big John and his crew ask why