Chapter 1
Alix all but growled into the phone, barely repressing the urge to crush the damned thing. Matthew was on the other side of the line, talking at her with disappointed, angry huffs. As her editor, he was the one who had to deal with the publisher whenever she didn’t meet her deadlines on time. And ever since her writing had shriveled up and died only a few months ago, those deadlines had come and went, nothing coming out of her.
“If you would just come back to Denver and pull your head outta your-”
“No,” she snapped. “I don’t care if Vivian can’t wait a few more weeks! Summer’s Edge is already number three in iTunes. I think she can deal with me taking a break.”
And Lord, did she need it. Her four book series had been hitting the best seller’s list ever since her publishing company had agreed to put up an ad on TV. People – mostly romantics – had swarmed to her book, forcing her publisher to print out more. It had cost her some, but the cost of her first book had been so worth the money she still made with the previous two books.
“Matt,” she sighed his name into the phone, trying to control her temper, “just give me some time, okay? Trust me, I’ve tried out the first chapter at least ten times already.”
“That much of a block?”
He said it as if her “block” was just an everyday thing – as if she could just get over this little thing within a few days. Alix knew better. She wouldn’t. At least, not within a few days. She’d experienced a sort of block like this while writing the second installment, but it had been nothing like this sheer frustration that brought her to tears nearly every time.
No, this “block” would take at least a few months before she could even think about writing the first chapter. But at least a month wasn’t good enough for Vivian, her publisher at Simon & Sylvester Publishing, who called Matt at least everyday, which ended in Matt calling her, and her just wanting to rip somebody’s throat out.
Her fingers curled at the thought, but she forced it away. “Yes, that much of a block.”
“Okay. I’ll tell Vivian.”
“Thanks.”
“But I am not lying for you.”
“I didn’t ask you to!” Alix snapped once more, pinching the bridge of her nose to try and ease the frustration.
“And if she finds out you’re working at some shitty bar, it’s on you, hon-”
“Got it.” She looked at the clock on her temporary kitchen’s wall. “But now I gotta go to that shitty bar and try not to think about this conversation. So, you good? Done ranting now?”
“Yeah,” he said, not at all sounding like he was through with her. “Done ranting.”
“Good. Bye.”
After hearing him say his own good bye, Alix hung up her phone, shoved it in her back pocket, and picked up her leather jacket from where it hung on the kitchen chair. Like the rest of the furniture that’d come with the apartment, her kitchen set was scuffed in some places, holding an antique sort of look that Alix liked.
Her brother Leon owned this string of apartment complexes and had insisted on her not having to pay for a thing. And despite her insisting that she at least pay half the rent, he’d refused. Always the big brother to the rescue, she smiled to herself, remembering all the times he’d gotten her out of trouble, even though she’d never asked for it.
Even her cat, Chief, a pretty calico male, who now rubbed his head against her pants covered leg had been from Leon. The seven-year-old feline had been only a kitten when her brother had given her Chief as a birthday present.
“Bye, baby.” She leaned down to kiss his furry forehead before leaving their apartment.
Rain pelted her cheeks as soon as she had the door open, making her clutch her leather jacket more firmly around her waist as she ran to her parked car. Her ancient Chevy whined a little as she turned the key in the ignition, but as her baby, it moved its reliable wheels and wiped with old windshield wipers.
It only took her ten minutes before the bright orange lights of Dawg’s Saloon glowed back at her with a gleaming intent, illuminating the hard, wooden structure that was Dawg’s. Only one story with large windows that allowed anybody to see in and a huge parking lot for all their patrons, Dawg’s was that one place out of town that had the best food and beer, and the trashiest interior.
After turning off her car and making sure it was locked, Alix made her way into Dawg’s, ignoring the leers some of he bikers outside gave her. She’d gotten used to those looks since her first day, roughly two months ago. Her boss had hired her on the spot, putting her behind the bar quicker than she could even blink as overweight drunkards stared at her with glazed eyes.
She stared right back into those eyes now, silently instructing the man who smiled at her to just move aside. With one, biker booted step, he did, large frame moving to the right and opening the door for her. After thanking him, she walked through the crowd of people, took off her jacket, relieved Paul of his shift, and made small talk with Matilda, one of their waitresses.
With wrinkled skin and bottle brown hair, Matilda was the type of woman to act so kind to one person and then turn killer blue eyes to another, a retort always on her painted lips. Alix had liked the woman ever since day one, right after the woman had told her just where to hit a man with the baseball bat that they kept underneath the lowball glasses.
Unfortunately, that was the worst that they carried her at Dawg’s. Just an aluminum baseball bat. No flail, sword, or even pepper spray. She so would’ve taken the flail and done some serious damage that one night when the pool table group had started a confrontation with some other man. Although, the sound of aluminum connecting with a douche bag’s leg had felt great. Better than great. But, it would have felt better with a flail. Now those things could cause some serious damage.
“I tell ya, if my Benji weren’t so sick, he’d be down here every night, beating the pulp outta all those imbeciles,” Matilda told her again, her face softening with the mention of her ailing husband.
Alix opened her mouth, about to ask the waitress if her husband was improving at all when a sharp whistle came from back by the pool table, way back in the corner. Three men stood around the green surface, sending a wink her way as their hands made suggestive movements on the pool sticks, only one finger possessing a golden wedding ring.
She scowled, hating how it was always the pool table group that had to be the rowdiest. With one last glance her way, Matilda took out her notepad and pen and walked over to the men, smiling at them with what Alix had come to realize as the older woman’s fake smile.
Inhaling and pinching the bridge of her nose once more, she was filled with the scents of fries, cheese, and all other sorts of greasy cooking. The kitchen was to the left, right next to the wrap around bar, Alix was once again reminded by the flash of stark light flooding to the left of the wrap-around bar. Its door was flung wide open as their cook, Walter, walked out, pouring himself a glass of water, grabbing it with a meaty hand, and then walking behind the white doors once more.
She watched the shadows that were cast by his stocky figure, her view soon blocked by Matilda as the woman came in front of her. They both exchanged a look then, one that had Alix letting out a sigh of relief. She wouldn’t have to use the bat again, no matter how much she wanted to smack some sense into the irresponsible, immature drunkards.
Trying not to roll her eyes at the memory when she was in front of patrons, Alix just got back to work, pouring drinks, accepting tips, and writing down on the tab sheet as the bar began to crowd. Soon, its wooden surface became sticky with alcohol, leaving Alix to grab the multi-surface spray and towel, cleaning with easy movements.
“Kentucky Straight. On the rocks,” somebody said from above her.
She raised her head, only to see Dylan Bramstom smiling down at her. She poured him his drink, wrote down a KS under his name on the tab and made small talk with the man. He was nice, she thought to herself, laughing as he told her another story about his family.
But he stopped laughing as soon as the man whom she had come to know as No Name walked in through the front door. She saw as Dylan followed her gaze, both of their eyes now focused on the man who walked with long strides through the people and clutter of chairs, tables, and booths.
A sturdy, green Carhartt jacket concealed his upper body, gripping what she knew would be broad shoulders and hanging loose on his waist. Through an opening gap, Alix saw the muscles bunching underneath his worn jeans, a hole at the thigh just barely revealing tanned skin.
She’d always gone for the lankier, skinny men that had tattoos and piercings covering their bodies, but for some reason, just No Name’s presence had her eyes crossing with physical attraction. Not a tattoo or piercing was in sight, and he definitely didn’t have that certain bad, rebellious persona she’d always been attracted to, but it didn’t seem to matter. This silent, muscular thing could was really something to behold.
“He’s the one who doesn’t talk, ain’t he?” Dylan asked from beside her, lifting his Kentucky Straight up to pouty lips and effectively halting her thoughts.
Alix gulped, trying to force the heat out of her face. “Sounds about right.”
They both watched as he sat down in the corner of the bar, slouching his shoulders as he leaned against the hard plaster of the wall. He had thick brown hair that hung just the tiniest bit over his forehead, his lower jaw covered up by a neatly trimmed beard. Those dark brown eyes that she’d been captured by the first night he’d come now scanned the crowd, not even glancing her way.
“You gonna go get him a drink?” Dylan leaned across the bar to elbow her.
Nodding, she forced her legs to move, trying to go through everything she’d last said to him to make sure she didn’t repeat herself. Last time, it had been about the Wyoming Cowboy’s upcoming sports seasons. That one usually got people going, but not with No Name, she’d found out. He’d just looked at her, shaking his head.
The week before that when she hadn’t just automatically given him his Miller, she’d asked what he did for a living. He’d started coughing, eyes watering as he’d slid a few bills her way. A few nights before that, she’d told him that that was too much for a tip. He’d taken the money back, but when he’d left, there had been the same amount left on the bar. About half of his beer had been left in the dark brown bottle, as well.
“What can I get for you tonight?” she asked this time, flinching as she saw something harsh and cold flicker in his eyes before going out.
He looked at her, firm mouth set, and body stock still. His brown eyes penetrated hers, but she made herself look back, silently applauding herself on the decision not to wear her glasses. She’d worn glasses last time, and he’d given her a strange look then. But not as strange as the one he gave her now, the slim circle of amber color highlighting his dark pupil.
“Just the usual?”
“Please,” he mumbled the one word that she’d heard him say so many times.
While he may not be word-savvy, No Name sure had opinions. While he may not elaborate on them, she knew that he disapproved of a lot of things. Even now, as she came back, a beer in hand, he looked across the wrap-around bar, eyes narrowing at Dylan who now sat by his wife.
“Here ya go.” She slid the beer over to him, watching as he clasped it in large, scarred hands.
It still surprised her, even now; for she had a feeling that if he really wanted to, No Name could simply clench his hand just the tiniest bit tighter, and the bottle would shatter in half. She’d never seen a glimpse of his body underneath the Carhartt, but something told her that this man was strong.
“Would you like anything else?” she asked, wanting to see if he’d reciprocate any form of conversation.
The thick cords of his neck stood out as he shook his head in a sound no. Alix just nodded and went back to where the air wasn’t so thick with tension. Over there, back by No Name, she’d found it hard to breathe. His presence just had that effect on her.
“What’d he say?” Dylan and his wife, Sandy, came up to her almost immediately.
“‘Please,’” she answered.
“That’s it?”
Alix nodded. “Yup. Doesn’t seem to like me much.”
“Sure is a looker, though,” Sandy said.
Alix could certainly agree with that. Even through the thick beard, she could see his sharp jaw, his high cheekbones standing out in the light. He was still slouched against the wall, index finger on the bottle, a frown marring his tanned face.
Once again, No Name didn’t even turn his face to look over at her; instead, just staring at the crowd with that disapproval in his eyes. There was always that disapproval that filled up his eyes’ emptiness, but sometimes – like tonight – she’d seen just a glimpse of something so sorrowful and so hurt that Alix was still reeling.
She’d been seeing that look for weeks now, her curiosity always gaining the best of her. Of course, No Name would never reply in anything other than one-worded answers, further intriguing her. That intrigue lasted all throughout the night, ending at two in the morning when she finished her shift.
As she went to clean up the bar, she saw his beer bottle still there, the condensation on the lower half wetting the napkin. That was another thing about No Name, she thought, a smile on her face at the first time she’d picked up his beer. The remaining half had sloshed all over her shirt, and she’d reeked of alcohol on her way home.
Now, however, as she grasped the cool glass with steady hands, she didn’t spill any of the alcohol. This was only one of many times that she’d taken the rest of his beer and poured it down the sink. The amber liquid sloshed down the dirty drain without any hesitation, wiping away all traces of No Name.
There was only one problem. As she waved bye to Walter and their other waitress, Patricia, her mind was not wiped of No Name’s face. His long gait stuck in her mind as she pressed on the accelerator. His full lips, with their pink tinge, captured her as she unclicked her seat belt. Even his brown eyes, with their mystery, intense scrutiny, and pain, were a picture perfect image, the front door of her apartment opening a few moments later.
She didn’t know what it was about No Name, but Alix was going to find out.
