Chapter 3
Rosie opened the industrial dishwasher and started putting clean beer and shot glasses away, mortified at herself. Had she really, practically begged Cruz to come back? After stealing constant glimpses of him like a swoony teenager? Nice going. He probably thought she was a naïve country hick—if he thought about her at all.
She wiped a forearm across her brow, hot from the dishwasher steam. Oh well. At least he’d been polite. Those three other guys had barely left a tip, on top of being rude.
Bar straightened, she peeked into the kitchen. George had it spotless, save for one burner he stood in front of, dancing his personal version of the twist. Oldies music played on the CD player he insisted on having in the room, while he stirred a large silver pot. “George, go on home already.”
“No, you go on, Ro. I’m working on a new version of the wing sauce. No—none of that.” He held up a hand at her dropped jaw. “I’m not changing the tried and true recipe. Just working on a seasonal version.”
“Whew. You scared me for a minute. Don’t you ever change that one!”
George waved and dipped a spoon to taste his concoction. Rosie moved down the back hall and knocked on Owen’s door. Normally, he’d help out on a short-staffed night like this, but the owners were auditing all their properties and he had to fill out dozens of reports. Even now, he looked miserable, slouched over three open notebooks.
“Hey, Owen,” she said as she pushed the door farther.
“Hey, Rosie.” He rubbed his eyes. “Any time you wanna go back to school and finish that accounting degree so you can take over this crap, I’d be more ‘en ready.” He frowned. “Then again, I’d lose my best bartender. Damn.”
She forced a smile, knowing he meant well. Everyone in Sundown knew she’d started college. Everyone knew when and why she’d stopped. Probably thought she was stuck in a rut. Or had given up.
Had she?
She shook off the pointless thoughts. “You gonna finish on their deadline?”
“Yeah. I got another day. I’m sorry I couldn’t help tonight. You go on home now.”
“See you tomorrow night.” She started to back out into the hallway. “Oh, George is still here. Working on a new recipe.”
“Got it. Thanks, Rosie.”
She waved then ducked into the employee break room and grabbed her purse from a file cabinet drawer. Owen had all kinds of storage for the staff here: a closet, plastic bins, mats for snowy boots—anywhere the employees wanted to stash their stuff during their shift.
No coats and boots needed tonight. She rolled her shoulders and pushed out into the dark parking lot.
Three cars were illuminated by two lights at either end of the small lot. Owen’s, George’s, and hers. She felt around in her purse as she walked, searching for her keys. She could hear them jangling—but where were they—
Tires screeched from the front of the building, splitting the quiet country night. A second later, headlights blazed across the lot. Rap music blared from the open windows of a boxy SUV—a Hummer? No one in Sundown owned one of those…
The car lurched to a halt and the doors opened. Rosie’s stomach dropped to her feet. The three guys who had given her a hard time all night got out.
“Hey, look who just got off,” one drawled.
“We missed you,” said another, who shut off the engine as he exited.
“The restaurant is closed.” Rosie’s eyes darted nervously between the three.
“We know that, baby,” the third one smirked. “Think we came back here for the shit food? Or do you think we’re as dumb as the rest of this hick town?”
Rosie still had a hand in her bag, searching for her keys. Finally her fingertips found cool metal. “I didn’t think about you at all.”
The first guy whistled. “Damn, you’re feisty.”
The second guy stepped close to her left side. Too close. “That’s too bad. We’re gonna make sure you think about us.”
Jerk number three neared her right side and reached for her hair, lifting a lock and slowly drawing it through his fingers. “What’d they call you? Ruby? Something like that?”
Oh god. A shudder of revulsion and terror wracked her shoulders. “It’s not important. I’m leaving. And if you stay here, the owner will call the cops.”
“I don’t see any owner out here.” The first one circled her and the others, leering as his eyes raked her body. “Just a party for four.”
Panic exploded and she couldn’t stand still another second. She turned and bolted toward her car.
“Not so fast.” The second one grabbed her arm and jerked her roughly against him. “Let’s go for a ride. Our car’s big. And probably nicer than some of the shacks you call houses around here.”
“No!” She struggled to get free as her brain hazed with panic. Should she try to use her keys? Scream? Would Owen hear her? George wouldn’t, with his music on.
The one who’d been circling around got in her face, thrust his hands through her hair. “Yeah, you are—”
The roar of an engine thundered through the night. From the opposite side of the building a pickup truck barreled into the parking lot. The driver killed the headlights and jumped out.
Cruz.
The three guys cursed. The one holding her didn’t let go.
Rosie’s heart stuttered. She could barely breathe from paralyzing fear. Now, seeing Cruz stride through the darkness with fury on his face, stole any remnants of air left in her lungs.
“Get away from her.” Cruz voice was harsh, commanding. One of the street lights lit half of his body, sharpening the angles of his face and highlighting his tattoos.
“Walk away, asshole,” the second guy said.
“Go home. Freak.” The third man eyed Cruz’s biceps. “The fuck is all that? Did your boyfriend draw all the pretty pictures on you?”
“I said step away from her.” Cruz’s boots kicked up a cloud of dirt. He was two feet away. Looming as intense as a summer storm. Rosie couldn’t take her eyes off him.
“Last chance to get out, unless you wanna get your fairy ass kicked,” one of them jeered.
“Hands off her or I’ll rip them off your goddamn arms,” Cruz growled at the one still touching her.
The second guy ran at Cruz, swinging a fist. Cruz grabbed his outstretched arm and yanked down, twisting. The man yelped but his voice changed to a garbled sound as Cruz punched him hard in the stomach. He stumbled, then vomited all the alcohol he’d just consumed.
“You deaf?” Cruz advanced toward the man holding on to Rosie. “Let. Go.”
The man did, and Rosie tried to run for the building. But the last guy grabbed her around the waist. She wriggled but he only held her closer. “You want it rough, baby, you’ll get it.”
Cruz and the man who’d been holding her collided in a flurry of blows. In a flash, Cruz had him in a chokehold. The guy gasped and flailed. Cruz didn’t let go. Strained gasps wrenched from the guy’s mouth. His eyelids fluttered.
“Fuck man, you re gonna kill him!” the jerk holding Rosie yelled.
“Not fucking worth it.” Cruz released the man, who dropped to the ground, wheezing. He charged the guy and Rosie.
The asshole had the nerve to hold her in front of him. “Don’t! Back off, man. Okay. We’ll go. Fuck!” He released Rosie and ran to the car. His friend on the ground managed to crawl to their fancy SUV, while the one who had puked rolled on the ground moaning, still clutching his stomach.
“Get up Doug! Get in the fucking car or we’re leaving you here!” the guy yelled.
The one named Doug staggered to his feet and half ran, half crouched his way to the vehicle. He got in and they drove off with a squeal of tires.
Rosie wrapped her arms around herself, staring at Cruz. “Th-thank you.” Her vision went swirly for a split second. “Oh my god. I-I need to sit down.” She plopped on the ground, a mess of wobbly limbs.
“You okay?” Cruz crouched next to her, concern in his eyes. “Did they hurt you?”
She shook her head. “No.” Breaths sawed from her lungs in choppy bursts as her head spun. Chills spread up and down her arms despite the warm night. Her eyes dropped to the dirt. She hadn’t felt this defenseless in a long time.
“Those mother fucking assholes.” His voice was gravelly and out of the corner of her eye, she saw his fist clench.
She fought to regulate her breathing. “I-I thought they left. I thought you left.”
“I was still in front, in my truck.” He lowered himself to sit next to her. “Just checking my phone. I saw their car come back.”
“Oh my god,” she murmured. “I’m so glad. What if-what if you hadn’t?” She couldn’t stop the fear racing through her veins. Her limbs felt like limp noodles as her adrenaline shifted from flight to you’re okay just breathe.
“Fuck, Rosie. Isn’t there someone who can walk you out here? I saw a guy in the back—the cook?” he scowled.
“Yeah, George is inside. So is Owen, the owner. But we girls always walk out together. Always. But Brenda had to go home early, and someone else called in sick for the whole shift…so it was just me.” She drew a deep breath. “And nothing like this has ever happened before.”
He ran a hand over his hair and studied her. Not in a creepy way like the guys had done, but assessing. “You sure you’re okay? You’re shaking.”
“I am?” Belatedly she dropped her gaze to see her fingers trembling like her grandma’s used to. Like autumn leaves that couldn’t hang on for one second longer. “I’m okay. Really. Just scared. But okay.”
He nodded.
“I just want to sit here a minute. Will you stay with me?”
“Sure. You got someone you want to call?” His tone was casual. Anyone would ask that question. But she couldn’t help but wonder at the note of curiosity in his voice.
“No.” Her shoulders sagged. Crap. If she hadn’t made it home, no one would even know until the next day.
“Want to call the cops? Not sure what they could do, but you know, if it’ll make you feel better…”
She winced and shook her head. “They’ll hear about this. No doubt.”
He gave her a quizzical look. “What does that mean?”
“My brother’s a cop here in Redemption County.”
He froze for a second, then frowned. Turned his gaze skyward as if the stars had anything to do with what was happening here in the parking lot. “Your brother. Well, there you go.”
She studied his profile, not sure how to react. Not that she was sure of anything right now, except that he’d saved her from being assaulted and maybe killed. He’d taken down the first two guys like it was nothing, like he did it every day. He hadn’t broken a sweat. Did he even have any bruises?
She couldn’t tell in the dark. “You saved me from something awful. I can’t thank you enough. I can’t believe how lucky I am that you were still here.”
He picked up a pebble and tossed it across the lot. “Sometimes, things work out. I’m glad it did today.”
A hundred thoughts raced through her head. Where was he staying? Was he living with someone? Why did he pick Sundown, of all the places to move? Would he come back to the bar? How did he know exactly how to fight those guys?
But her mouth couldn’t form the words to go along. All she could manage was thank you, and she’d said that three times already. “I’m ready to go home.”
“You sure you’re not too rattled to drive?” he asked.
“No. I can drive. It’s not far.”
He stood and extended a hand to help her up. “Promise me you’ll always walk outside with someone. Every night.”
She nodded. “I promise.”
“And if you don’t have anyone, like tonight?” He pulled out his phone from his pocket. “Call me. I’ll come over.”
“I can’t ask you to walk me from the restaurant door to my car if you’re not even here!” She blinked up at him. Surely he couldn’t be on call like that for someone he just met?
“You’re not asking. I’m telling you. He turned the screen around. “Put my number in your phone.”
“Okay.” With fingers that were finally steady, she entered his digits. “I’d feel terrible calling you, though.”
“I’d feel terrible if this shit happened again and I didn’t stop it.” His tone once again held that commanding edge.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “For everything.”
“You’re welcome.” A hint of a smile tilted his lips. “I’ll wait ‘til you get your car started.”
“Okay. Night.” She turned and headed to her car, unlocking it as she neared. She slid in, started the little reliable engine, and turned on the lights.
Cruz shoved a hand into his pocket and ambled to his truck. His gait was like a panther—muscular and deliberate, with the ability to pounce in a heartbeat. He waved before getting in, which was sweet, because the headlights would prevent him from knowing if she was even looking in his direction.
But she was. Not looking, but staring unabashedly, glad for the shadowed secrecy of her car. Entranced with this dark knight who’d literally swooped in and saved the day. How had she been lucky enough to have him walk into her bar? She pressed a hand over her heart, which was threatening to zoom back into swoony teenager territory. Because despite the “don’t mess with me” attitude, she knew he was one of the good ones.