Kicks for a Sinner S3 (20 page)

“Ungrateful bitch.”

“Language, Brian. She’s too worried about Tommy to see what I’m doing. We get down there and find Bijou and his wife dead, Tommy missing, and some Mexican drug lord’s goons gunning for us. We get far enough away so I can punt the kilo of cocaine they want their way, but they keep on coming, firing automatic weapons at us. I shoot out a windshield trying to get the driver. Knox takes out their tires. Joe wings a guy. He insists I take Cassie to safety, so I do. We end up in the house of this hot
chica
who makes rugs and drives a low-rider. She helps us get back to the border. Least I could do is buy a rug, but Cassie seems to think I need saving from STDs. Oh, what the hell.”

Howdy sat on one of the rush-seated stools and gulped half his coffee. His robe parted over his knees, but Brian prudently kept his eyes on his friend’s face even when sugar from the beignets powdered Howdy’s chest hair.

“When we get together with Joe again at the border, we find Tommy made his own escape and brought a little girl with him, his sister, he says. Cassie melts all over Joe, wants to stay with him, drive home with him and Tommy in a stolen truck he reclaimed like one little, happy family. No way Joe is doing that. He ticks Cassie off, and the rest of us have to listen to her rant all the way home. I tell her off for her own good. She cries and messes up another one of my shirts. I make her go home and stop bothering Nell. The end, no sequels. I am still her friend, maybe even her BFF. I’d only take a bullet for her.” He stuffed half a beignet into his mouth and let the sugar fall where it may.

Brian held up a manicured finger. “Wait, I see some progress here.”

“Where?” Howdy shaded his eyes with a hand and pretended to search a wide horizon.

“First, Cassie was not trying to protect your innocent self from STDs. She exhibited jealousy. Second, you showed you wouldn’t put up with her bitching in a very manly display. You shot out a windshield and dragged her to safety. That makes even my heart go pitty-pat.”

“She didn’t thank me. In fact, I had to reveal I’m not as innocent as I appear.”

“The second part of that is good I think. This girl has a rather sordid past. Deep down, she may feel unworthy of a nice boy like you. And I do think she noticed what you did to save her life, hence the spate of jealously.”

“Evidently, she feels worthy of Joe.”

“We both know Joe has his own lurid past—all those women, the love child. He’s not a clean-cut guy like you.”

“Women like bad boys. I’m not one.”

“Come on and tell Uncle Brian how you lost your innocence. In high school with a cheerleader under the bleachers? Am I right?”

“No, I had a girlfriend, everyone on the team did. We went to the same Baptist church. She wanted to remain a virgin until marriage, so she did.”

“Ah yes, I remember those days. I had a high school girlfriend, too, and she also remained a virgin. College?”

“I got through freshman and sophomore year untouched, but then I became the ace kicker for the Sooners. I save a championship game with a field goal, and the rest of the team takes up a collection for a trip to Mexico to buy me a whore.”

“You had no whores in Norman, Oklahoma?”

“We had a tough season. The team wanted to party down somewhere Coach wouldn’t find out what they did. And they did it all, tequila and blow and the best whorehouse in town.”

“You said, they. I take it you did not participate.”

“Not in the first two. Well, someone had to be the designated driver. We rented a van. They gave me a load of bail money to hold just in case.”

“Howdy, Howdy, Howdy, what can we do with you?”

He contemplated the last sugar-coated donut. “You know, Brian, sex is better than beignets, and that’s saying a whole lot. By the times that
senorita
got done with me, I could hardly walk back to the rented van. Spent every weekend there I could after that.”

“Same whorehouse?”

“Same whore. She taught me a lot. Like how to take my time, same way as I kick, as long as I paid for the minutes.”

“Incredible. You were loyal to a whore.”

“Until I graduated. Just told the guys and everyone else I had a girlfriend in Mexico. Got ragged a lot about that. I hadn’t quite figured out that sex and love are not the same thing. But being a Sinner is full of temptations. I quit going down there because the way Joe sheds women since he married, there are plenty to go around the team. Most of them don’t interest me much though. Next time I got to Mexico, Lupe had moved on and so did I.”

“You do have sordid past. Wonderful! When do you see Cassie again?”

“No telling. I guess she’ll call when she wants to see me again. The way I chewed her out that might be never.”

“No, no, no. She has seen your gun-toting, Mexican whore lovin’, I don’t take crap from women side now. Do not fall back into being her nice guy friend. You call her. Make it clear you are asking for a real date. Act now!” Brian handed him the phone.

Howdy took it with sugar-sticky fingers and regarded the phone much like the rattlesnakes in his dream. He had the urge to run before he got bitten where it would hurt the most—in the heart, not the heel.

“Want me to dial for you?” Brian offered.

“No, I can do this.”

Cassie answered as groggy as he had been an hour ago. “Howdy, what? Has something else happened?”

“No, it’s just I think we should celebrate Tommy coming home safely. Just you and me. No Brian. We hit the clubs, tear up this town.”

“It’s pretty hard to tear up New Orleans. Happens nearly every night.”

“Good. Is it a date?”

“I guess so. What time?”

“Seven. I’ll pick you up.”

Brian gave him the thumbs up sign, gathered the soiled, empty bag and paper cups, and headed for the doorway. He paused by a tall saguaro cactus in a red crackle-glazed pot. The cactus wore Howdy’s cowboy hat. “I like the whimsical touch.”

“Oh, I don’t wear my hat much in the city. People stare and make comments.”

“As would I if I didn’t know you well. Wear it tonight. It might provoke a brawl. Then you could really impress Cassie with your manliness.”

“Right. Punching another guy does that. Seems she might be worried I’d punch her one of these days.”

“Oh, she already knows you better than that. Call anytime night or day when you get in and spill. Ta-ta.”

* * * *

The smoke lay like a fog bank inside the bar. While New Orleans restaurants had gone smoke free, no one seemed to care if bartenders or musicians got second-hand lung cancer. Despite the dim lighting, Howdy, hunched over his second beer, recognized the fruity scent of the cologne when the Brian took a seat next to him.

“I thought you were staying out of this. How did you find us?”

“You two always wind up here. I’m afraid I was too curious and too bored at home. I waited until Cassie left for the powder room to make contact, and I will silently slip away before she returns. How goes it?”

“Fine, I guess. The music is good. We did some dancing. Band is taking a break, so now would be a good time to talk, but I can’t seem to spit out what I really want to say.”

“Barkeep, this man needs a shot of whiskey for courage,” Brian said to the young man behind the counter. He whispered in Howdy’s ear. “He’s new and kind of cute, don’t you think?”

“No.”

The slim young man in the tight black T-shirt revealing a Celtic tattoo around one bicep asked, “Jim Beam, Jack Daniels, Old Grandad, Old Crow…”

Howdy cut off the listing. “The first, I guess.”

“Water, ice, straight up?”

“Ahhh…”

Brian winked at the bartender and waited a beat to see if he’d get a response. Nothing. “Straight up. Make his a double.”

The drink appeared in a flash. Brian paid with a big bill and let the bartender keep the change. Howdy downed it in two quick swallows, coughed, and slapped the shot glass back on the speckled black granite counter.

“Okay, thanks Brian. I think I’m drunk enough now.”

“Not nearly for what you have to do.” His luminous dark eyes followed the bartender’s firm and shapely ass as he walked away to tend to other customers. Distracted, he failed to notice Cassie’s return or Howdy’s reaction.

The kicker shoved his cowboy hat to the back of his head and turned to watch her cross the barroom’s checkered floor. She moved through the smoke like a siren in the mist, the pools of recessed lighting picking up the red in her hair, not the blonde streaks. Oh, the way she walked in that tight gold dress, sinuous, leading with her full breasts, heading directly for him. A red-furred arm with an anchor tattoo etched on its forearm waylaid her.

“Hey, Red. Wanna dance the next set?”

“Not with you.” Cassie shook off the arm that locked around her waist.

“Why not, doll? We could make beautiful red-haired babies together.”

“Smooth, Shaun,” his table buddies razzed.

“Because you are a big, obnoxious, drunken jerk,” Cassie answered. “And I already have a date.” She pointed a finger at Howdy grinning at her from the bar.

The rest of the man emerged from the shadows and joined her in the puddle of light. He was truly big, very drunk, and definitely a jerk. “The cowboy? He’s with that fag. Baby, I got what you need if you’re dating him.” He grabbed his crotch and gave it a squeeze in case she missed the point. Cassie slapped his orangutan arm away again when it attempted another possession of her waist.

“Now, Howdy, now!” Brian urged, pushing his friend away from his seat.

The bartender floated over. “He need another?”

“No, but I do. What time do you get off, handsome?”

“I thought you were hitting on him.” He nodded his pretty head at Howdy.

“Howdy, no, he’s straight as they come, though he does have a nice derriere. We’re with the Sinners. He kicks. I punt long ones.”

“Thought I recognized you. I get off at two.”

Howdy heard Brian’s banter with the bartender in the back of his mind like the buzz of a dying fluorescent light, not something he was concerned about as he approached Cassie and her rough admirer.

“Leave her alone.” Okay, not very witty, but the only phrase he could come up with as his brain seemed to be going numb.

“Who are you, the guy in the white hat coming to her rescue?” Shaun knocked the Stetson to the grubby dance floor.

“Last time I checked, it was gray,” he answered with a bit more wit. “My grandpa gave me that hat.”

Shaun raised a steel-toed, work-booted foot to come crashing down on the crown of the Stetson, but it did not reach its destination. Howdy’s punch to the jaw sent him sprawling into his mates’ table, overturning their drinks and sending the free bowl of peanuts skittering underfoot. Outraged, his buddies raised up in anger as Howdy bent to retrieve his hat. Coming up, he took one sucker punch to the stomach, defeating the blow by hardening his muscles, but he stayed doubled over feigning injury and head-butted his second assailant.

A third approached him from the side, but Cassie caught the man with a full slam in the face from her lethal little purse covered in sharp, metallic disks and strangely weighty. With his face suffering from myriad bleeding small cuts, the guy staggered back clutching his bloody nose. “I think the bitch broke it!”

“Watch your language around her.” Howdy gave him a strong, two-handed shove that set him on his butt among the peanut hulls. Unfortunately, the main cause of the brawl had gotten to his feet again.

“Oh dear, three against two and one of them is a girl,” Brian remarked to his new friend. “Excuse me.”

He took three running steps forward and with the elegance and accuracy that were his trademarks, placed a kick directly into the orangutan’s nuts with his rather pointy Italian leather shoe. Three down, fight over—except for the two brawny black bouncers heading their way in a cloud of peanut dust through the maze of chairs and tables. The bartender gestured to him and his companions, pointing out a rear exit. “Two, remember,” he said as Howdy pushed Cassie to the backdoor and Brian brought up the rear. Running into the bartender who feinted right, then left before they got by, the bouncers pounded after them

In the alley piled with reeking shells from the oyster bar next door, they made a quick decision. “You go left, we’ll go right. Get in the first cab you find. I’ll pick up my truck later,” Howdy ordered.

Brian, light on his feet, rounded the corner and turned left without the tiniest hesitation. Howdy dodged the always-creeping traffic of the French Quarter shielding Cassie with his body. He tugged her, skittering on high heels, toward the bright lights of a hotel marquee where taxis in abundance waited to be signaled forward by the doorman and bypassed them all. At the entrance to the cream and gold lobby, he tucked her arm under his and entered.

Breathless, she said, “We don’t have to wait on the doorman. Just take the last cab in line, and we can get out of here.”

He spun her to face him. “Tonight. You, me, here. Let’s get a room,” he said, the two shots of whiskey and the adrenaline still pounding in his head.

Cassie considered the intensity of his blue eyes, the serious look on a face usually caught grinning, and found herself loving that sprinkle of freckles across the bridge of his nose. Joe had never looked at her in that way, never would.

“I think…yes,” she said.

TWENTY-TWO

The desk clerk didn’t so much raise a brow when the young man dressed in cowboy casual threw down a platinum credit card like the ace of spades in a poker game. Nor did the night clerk make any remarks about the swollen condition of the guest’s right hand as he awkwardly signed the printout of the hotel registration. Obviously, he encountered odder guests staggering out of the French Quarter at this time of the evening on a regular basis.

“Upgrade that to a suite,” Howdy said. “And send along a bucket of champagne.”

“Certainly, Mr. McCoy.”

As the clerk made the adjustment and phoned in the order to the bar Howdy glanced over his shoulder to make sure Cassie still sat waiting on the gold brocade banquette and had not changed her mind and gone outside to take a cab home. With her legs crossed and draw to the side the way fashion models placed their long legs, she hadn’t moved. Men passing through the lobby from the bar eyed her as if she were a high-class prostitute. The red-gold hair down over her bare back and the short metallic dress worn with killer high heels might have given them that impression, but they shouldn’t be staring at her that way. He felt an unfamiliar surge of possessiveness rise from his groin all the way to his suddenly jittery stomach.