Whisky on My Mind (16 page)

“Kiki, I know she’s a witch to work with, and I know, she can drive you insane
.” From the corner of her eye she saw Yvette’s eyes widen even more. “Trust me, there have been days when I wanted to smash a bottle or two over her head as well, but you have to realize this is going a little bit too far.” She edged closer. “Put the bottle down and let her go and I promise we’ll sort all this out.”

Yvette gurgled out a string of expletives that would have put any of the bikers in the bar to shame, and for a brief moment Whisky felt like taking the bottle out of Kiki’s hand and doing the job herself.

“Yvette. Shut the hell up. You’ve done enough damage here and if you want to keep that tongue in your head, you’ll keep your mouth shut,” Whisky warned in a low angry tone.

Whisky moved her gaze back to meet Kiki’s watery, slightly crazed look and took a slow deep breath. “I promise if you let her go, you won’t have to work with Yvette again. Just drop the bottle and let her go,” she urged gently, trying to keep her voice steady and her movements slow.

“I hate her so much,” Kiki sobbed, and pushed the bottle harder against the old waitress’s neck. A tiny trickle of blood ran over the hand Kiki held the bottle in and Whisky realized she was running out of time.

“I know,”
Whisky continued to sooth patiently. “We all do.” Behind her she thought she heard a low rumble of a chuckle but ignored the men who should have stepped in and stopped this before things reached this point. She made a mental note to bring it up with them…later.

She’d finally gotten within arm’s reach of Kiki and had no idea what she was going to do now she was here. Up close she could see more little nicks on the tou
gh-as-leather skin of the old waitress, where the bottle had touched. The bigger cut was bleeding freely and pooling a dark crimson color on the waitress’s shirt.

She held Kiki’s wild-eyed look and realized her pupils were slightly dilated.
She was high,
Whisky thought angrily. It explained the over-the-top, irrational behavior. It didn’t, however, make it any easier to figure out what to do next. Hyped up on crack, there was no telling what she might do. This was no longer talking down a stressed out emotional woman…it was trying to talk a drug addict off the ledge and risking someone’s life at the same time. 

Kiki’s sobs turned into hysterical laughter as her eyes darted wildly around the room and Whisky realized she had to act fast. There was no time to pick apart the consequences—more blood was trickling down the waitress
’s neck with each passing second. The glass had only to move a fraction higher and it would be resting directly over an artery…which would only take a tiny amount of pressure to sever. With one hand moving toward the arm that held the broken bottle, she punched hard at Kiki’s face, pulling the arm back toward her that held the bottle and reefing Yvette away as the younger woman staggered backward, dropping the glass and screaming as she held onto her bleeding nose.

Men rushed forward and gabbed Kiki, kicking away the rest of the broken glass.

Whisky turned to Yvette and examined her neck, grateful she hadn’t added any more abrasions to her injuries and let out a shaky breath, her body feeling as though it had turned to mush.

Kiki’s hysterical screaming drew her attention and she looked at the men holding her, seeming to be waiting for her instructions. “Get that crazy bitch out of here.”

“It wasn’t my fault,” she spat angrily, glaring at Whisky.

“If I ever see you around here again, I can promise you, you won’t be walking away. That includes the club house. You don’t come near anything with a Black Mustang on it—got it?”

“You can’t tell me what to do, you…
whore
,” Kiki screamed, as she struggled against the strong arms that held her back.

“Get her out of here,” Whisky snapped and turned her back on the woman still protesting and swearing loudly as the men took her out of the bar.

Cindy had already grabbed the first aid kit and was applying pressure to the cut on Yvette’s neck. “Are you okay?” Whisky asked her.

“No thanks to you,” she sniffed
, and the haughty expression did little to cover the fact she was shaking like a leaf now that it was over.

Whisky didn’t like the woman—never had, but seeing the tough old bird
visibly shaken by the ordeal sent a rush of compassion through her. “Well, for the record, I’m glad she didn’t cut your throat,” Whisky said, keeping a straight face.

“Why? You would have been finally rid of me,” she sn
uffled.

“Then who would I have to annoy the living crap outta
’ me? That wouldn’t be any fun, would it?”

Yvette
gave a small “humph” and shifted her gaze that had a suspicious glint of moisture.

Whisky gently patted the woman’s arm
, and as she went to turn away was surprised when a cool hand was placed over her own. She turned back and lowered her eyes to where Yvette held her hand, giving it a tight squeeze. Whisky bit the inside of her lip as a sudden rush of emotion swelled inside her and gave a small nod of understanding. She knew first thing Monday morning they would be back to the usual butting of heads that was their usual relationship, but for tonight at least, she knew she’d cracked through the old goat’s hard exterior and she managed a watery smile.

There was a rising chorus of voices and laughter as everyone settled back into their evening. The band started playing and the bar resumed taking orders. Whisky made her way
around the room in full damage control, reassuring patrons that everything was okay, issuing complementary meal vouchers to soothe any ruffled feathers and doing her best to repair the bar’s reputation. Once she was sure things were back under control she headed to the office; she needed to get out of there. Her hands were shaking and she wasn’t sure if she was about to lose her dinner at some point. She’d held it together for the sake of her staff and the customers, but now she needed to get away from the noise.

Whisky
closed the door of her office behind her and didn’t bother switching on the lights. Sitting alone in the dark, she let out a shaky breath and allowed herself to shed the frightened tears she’d been holding back. It came in waves, rolling through her like a brutal tide.

She wasn’t sure how long she’d been sitting there when the door was suddenly thrown open and light flooded the office as
warm arms surrounded her. She breathed in the heady familiar smell and grabbed the fabric of Sawyer’s shirt in her hands, clenching tightly as she let him wrap her into his arms.

Once
she calmed down Whisky
accepted the tissues Sawyer offered and was able to wipe her face, “What are you doing back?” Now that the worst of the shock had passed it registered that Sawyer was actually
home.

“I got in early.” He let out a long breath. “I got a rundown and then a reenactment of the final right hook that took her
down,” he said and she heard the underlying anger in his tone. “Shit, Whisk. What the hell did you think you were doing?”

“I don’t know…it seemed like a good idea at the time.” She sniffed, and realized her hand was throbbing. Looking at it she saw that she still had Yvette’s blood on her hand. Turning her hand over she noticed a few other small nicks where the glass had obviously touched her skin as she’d pulled Yvette away.

Sawyer eased her off his lap and went into the small bathroom, coming back with a wet cloth and began wiping away the blood and cleaning up the scratches.

“Is Yvette okay? Has someone taken her to the hospital to get checked?”
Whisky asked suddenly realizing she’d forgotten to organize anyone to do it earlier.

“You know Yvette. She wasn’t about to go to the hospital. She wanted to go back to work. It’s okay,”
Sawyer soothed when she went to open her mouth in protest. “We didn’t let her, Brick took her home. She’s fine.”

“It was a really stupid thing you did, Whisk,” he said still angry at her, but his touch was gentle. 

“Someone had to do something. She was off her head.”

“It shouldn’t have been you,” he said
, shaking his head.

“Who else should it have been? This place is as much my responsibility as it is yours.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here,” he said quietly, holding her gaze steadily. “I feel like I keep letting you down lately,” he said, sounding miserable.

It had been a hard few months on all of them and Sawyer had been feeling it the most. “You can’t be everywhere,” she told him
, placing her hands either side of his face so that he looked at her. “I just wish I could help carry some of that burden you carry around. I don’t know how to help you when I don’t know what you’re doing.”

“It’s my job. And you already help—more than you could even know.”

“How did it go up there? Any trouble?”

“It went fine. Not a peep from the Switchblades. I’m just glad to be home.”

“So maybe this will be the end of all the trouble?”

“I hope so.”

They walked out across the car park slowly. The unspoken question hung heavy between them. She knew he would be wondering about her answer to his proposal before he left…but the fact he hadn’t brought it up also made her think he was a little worried about her answer. God, why did there have to be so much drama in their lives? Why couldn’t things just run smoothly for once? She was too shaken up over tonight’s fiasco to get into anything now…and the truth be told—she still wasn’t sure what to do.

Whisky let herself simply enjoy the rare opportunity of having Sawyer all to herself for a few minutes. It wouldn’t last. He’d have to go and sort out club business and check in with the staff at the bar…she’d be lucky to see him again before midnight. “How’s Bella been doing?”
he asked, cutting into her thoughts. Obviously he knew better than to bring up the whole marriage thing right now and went with a safer option instead.

“She seems better.”

“I’m glad. Haven’t been hassled by the cops while I’ve been away?”

“Nope.
All quiet on that front. Maybe they’ve finally decided to give it up?”

“Maybe.”
He didn’t sound too hopeful and her spirits dropped a little. Sawyer stopped at the doorway to their apartment, leaning in and resting one arm against the door jam and kissed her. It was a long, deep, soul-crippling kiss that showed her what he couldn’t say—how thinking about her in harm’s way had almost crushed him. It brought tears to her eyes and when he finally lifted his head, she saw the same love reflected in his gaze she was certain was shining in hers. He gave that crooked little grin and she melted all over again. “I won’t be long. Then I’m coming to bed. Wait up for me?” he asked, dropping his voice into a sexy purr.

“Maybe.”

He kinked an eyebrow at her sassy tone and leaned in for another kiss.

“Oh alright… if you insist,” she breathed, quite sure her knees were about to give out at any moment.

“I insist,” he grinned, kissing the end of her nose before backing away. “I’m the King, Baby. Remember?” he chuckled as she pulled a face at his parting remark.

“More like the joker,” she said under her breath and let out a small squeal of laughter, quickly shutting the door when he made to come back and grab her.

Whisky looked longingly at the bed and wished she could go lie down for a bit, but knew if she did she’d be asleep before her head hit the pillow. Instead, she decided to make a start on her very last assignment. She was almost done with her degree but her spirits weren’t as high as they’d once been. It didn’t seem to make any difference to the banks if she had a piece of paper that backed her as a graduate, or even the practical experience of already running a successful business…it made her wonder why she even bothered in the first place.
Stop feeling sorry for yourself and just get it done,
she muttered. If she could take on a crazy glass-wielding waitress, surely this last assignment would be a piece of cake. Pushing away her disheartening thoughts, she focused on just getting the job done.  

Later under the shower, the sound of the door sliding open behind her brought a smile to her face and she handed the soap over her shoulder without turning around.

Big hands slowly slid across her shoulders and back, leaving a trail of soapy bubbles that trickled down her body and onto the tiled floor. As his hands worked their magic, she felt her tired body beginning to respond to Sawyer’s talented ministrations and she leaned back into the hard body behind her.

God he felt so good
, she thought feeling the touch of his granite-like, rough maleness against her softer skin. His hands left her shoulders and moved down her body. They slid in a slippery, soapy trail along her sides, down her hips and around, dipping into the very center of her warmth.

In a rush of need, Whisky turned in his arms and found his lips. Her hands ran over his chest, gliding through the soap transferred from her own body to his. This was what she wanted.
Him. With her. Near her. In her. Now.

She slid her hands lower and found him, loving the steely sleekness and smiled into the kiss at the shiver that ran through him at her first touch. She needed more.
Wanted more.