Kristen Ashley - Play It Safe

“Fucking hell,” he muttered.

I lifted up, put the butt of my cue to the floor and said, “Best of three. Five hundred dollars.”

His eyes came to me. “Best of five, a thousand.”

Darn!

I shook my head. “That wasn’t the deal.”

“I barely got a shot in,” he returned swiftly.

“You saw me play. I offered you the flip. That’s the breaks.” I lifted a hand, palm up. “Five hundred dollars.”

His eyes narrowed and he accused, “You’re a hustler.”

He did not lie.

Still, I didn’t hustle him.

“I’m good at pool, you knew it and you made the bet,” I replied, hand still lifted. “Five hundred dollars.”

“This is stupid,” he hissed.

“Five hundred dollars, Bud.” I heard from behind me, I twisted my neck to look over my shoulder and saw that Gray was three feet away at the top edge of the platform.

“Stay out of this, Cody,” Cocky Guy warned.

“You made the bet, you lost, you pay. Five hundred dollars,” Gray stated, taking another step forward on the platform.

Cocky Guy glared at him as his brethren closed ranks.

This was not good.

Hells bells.

I felt Gray close in on my back.

Hells bells!

“Bud, five hundred dollars. Now,” he said low, his voice almost a growl, his patience clearly waning.

I wanted to look at him to assess and compare. I knew he knew this guy; they probably went to school together. But somehow his maturity and masculinity had eclipsed Cocky Guy’s about seven thousand times. He was all man. He was losing patience, this vibe filled the space and not only Cocky Guy but his buddies were all taking it seriously. They didn’t like it but they were taking it seriously.

Maybe they weren’t total idiots.

Finally, Cocky Guy muttered, “I don’t have it on me.”

“Then get it. Cash machine on the corner. We’ll wait. You’re not back in ten minutes, I’ll be collecting,” Gray returned.

Wow. That was nice.

Cocky Guy continued glaring over my shoulder at Gray then his eyes flicked back and forth between him and me.

Then he asked, “You two know each other?”

“Yeah, she’s a friend,” Gray answered instantly. “And I take care of my friends. Now, cash machine. Corner. Five hundred dollars. Ten minutes. You should be back in five.”

Cocky Guy kept up the glare to save face then he stomped away. I let out the breath I was holding. His friends drifted back to the other table. Gray took my elbow in his grip and led me to the opposite end of the platform.

When we got there, he didn’t let me go and used my elbow to position me in front of him.

I looked up.

He was still beautiful and now he looked slightly pissed, definitely impatient and that meant, as close as he was, he was even more beautiful. He was also the perfect height, well taller than me but I knew, just tipping up on my toes, I could round his shoulders with my arms. A slight bend of his neck, he could kiss me.

My palms started sweating again.

“Coat, scarf, purse, get them, get them on. Take the money, stow it and get outta here,” he ordered. “Do not delay. Walk fast, get to the hotel, chain and lock the door.”

That didn’t sound good.

“This guy trouble?” I asked.

“You know he is, dollface,” he answered quietly.

He called me dollface.

I liked that.

I swallowed.

“Okay, is this guy more trouble than I thought he was?”

“Yeah,” he answered instantly.

“Right then since I knew he was definitely trouble and not the good kind, how much more is he?”

“On the trouble scale of one to ten?” Gray asked and I nodded. “A hundred and fifty.”

That surprised me. I rarely underestimated anybody and especially not trouble.

I felt my brows go up. “Seriously?”

His face underlined his one word answer, “Seriously.”

Wow.

“You’re not getting your stuff,” he prompted, letting my elbow go.

I held his eyes then walked to the stool where I put my stuff. I pulled on and buttoned up my jeans jacket, wrapped my scarf around my neck and pulled the strap of my purse over my head.

Once I’d done this, my eyes went back to Gray who hadn’t moved. The minute they hit him, he lifted a hand, index finger extended and he moved it back and forth, indicating I should go there.

And when he did that, I knew I was definitely stupid. Not the game of pool with Cocky Guy stupid. Coming to the bar stupid. Coming to the bar to get exactly what I got. Another eyeful (and then some) of Gray.

And I knew this because him wagging a long, handsome finger at me in that self-assured, manly way of his made things happen to me I’d never felt in my life. Not once. They happened on the inside in a way that I wasn’t certain I could hide on the outside. And I also wasn’t certain if my suddenly trembling legs would keep me standing.

I went there.

When I got there, again his hand came to my elbow but this time I felt it, every centimeter. The touch was light, he wasn’t manhandling me, he wasn’t making a point. But I felt every centimeter of his fingers that were touching me.

Every centimeter.

“You and your partner didn’t leave town,” he remarked.

“Uh… he had something he wanted to do. We’re gone first thing in the morning.”

“He at your hotel room now?”

I didn’t want to share this.

I had to share this.

“Doubtfully.”

Gray studied me. Then he nodded.

Then he ordered, “Don’t leave your hotel room unless he’s with you. No visit to the diner for breakfast. Nothing. Yeah?”

Wow.

“Is he really that serious of a problem?” I asked.

“Absolutely,” Gray answered.

Hells bells.

I looked away and whispered, “Darn.”

“Dollface,” he called, my belly shifted in a way that felt really nice and I looked back to him. “I didn’t think you’d make the bet.”

I stared. Then I asked, “Sorry?”

“You were blowin’ him off. Then suddenly you made the bet. I didn’t think you’d make the bet.”

He was saying he would have stepped in if he knew I was going to give in.

This was nice too.

He was just nice.

I liked that.

Stupid, stupid me.

I nodded.

Cocky Guy showed and wasted no time glaring at us and shoving bills at me.

Gray let me go and took them.

“Good you’re just passin’ through,” he said to me and his meaning was clear. I wasn’t welcome in his town.

I didn’t reply.

I noted out of the corner of my eye that Gray was counting the money.

Then he said softly, “It’s all there, darlin’.”

I looked at him, nodded, looked down, took the money, looked to my purse and used both hands to stow it in my wallet without taking my wallet out of my bag.

Then I looked at Cocky Guy. “Nice to meet you.”

“Bite me,” he muttered and moved away.

Well there it was. Rude.

Then I looked to Gray.

“Thanks again,” I whispered.

“Get gone,” he whispered back.

Not two words I wanted him to say to me but now, essentially, he’d said them twice.

I wished I was the kind of girl who had the gumption to lean in and kiss him. Even if it was just his cheek to say thanks.

I wasn’t that kind of girl. I’d never kissed a man, never been kissed.

So I didn’t.

I just took in a deep breath and then I got out of there.

Eighteen minutes later…

“Bud, not good.”

Lying on my back in my bed in my darkened hotel room, I sighed.

That didn’t take long. I was in my hotel room maybe, at most, fifteen minutes.

And those words, said by who I knew was Gray, came from outside my closed and locked door.

“Fuck you, Cody. Go home. You don’t know this bitch. Don’t get involved.”

That was Cocky Guy.

I had the lights out. Boots on. Coat on. Baseball bat in my hand.

Casey had a gun. I didn’t do guns.

I did baseball bats.

I lifted up, throwing my legs to the side and twisting my hips. My cowboy boots hit floor silently. My hand gripped the handle of the bat tightly.

“Not movin’, you know it, you want in there you gotta go through me.”

That was Gray.

“Honest to God, you’re one mean fucker but you can’t take four of us.”

That wasn’t Cocky Guy. That was a sidekick.

They’d all come.

Gray was right, not good.

“Not sure you want to find out.”

That was Gray.

I pushed to my feet.

Then I heard the grunt of pain.

Hells bells!

I rushed to the door and looked through the peephole.

There they were; all four of them on Gray.

Gray.

Gray, a man who had seen me three times, looked out for me three times and on the fourth was being beat up in the parking lot of a small town hotel to protect me.

I shouldn’t get involved. I should call the front office. I should tell them to call the cops. Or I should just call the cops.

I didn’t.

I pulled back the chain, turned the lock and charged out.

I advanced swinging.

I aimed low and caught one of the sidekicks on the side of the knee. He yowled and scuttled sideways. I left him, swung back and then connected with sidekick two’s back. Another howl, he jerked around and advanced with the other guy I nailed who’d recovered.

I got another lick in, smashing into sidekick two’s hip. Another grunt of pain but a quick recovery. I jabbed the top of the bat in sidekick one’s stomach twice, hard. He went back at the same time trying to snatch the bat away from me.

I kept hold then swung, also hard, this time higher. He lifted cocked forearms and one of them deflected the blow but he emitted a grunt of pain and fell slightly back.

My attention turned to sidekick two who I was instinctively shifting from. Sidekick one wasn’t the threat, sidekick two’s eyes were mean. On swing five, moving fast, sidekick two caught the bat. He twisted, I held on. He twisted harder, angry eyes never leaving me. Taller, stronger, I was no match. He wrenched it out of my hands then tossed it aside.

Not good.

They advanced. I backed up, caught my heel on the curb up to the walkway outside the hotel rooms and fell right to my ass. Hard. And it hurt. No time to feel the pain, they kept coming and I scampered back on hands and feet.

Sidekick two grinned.

Yep. Mean.

I kept scampering and my head and shoulders hit brick.

That hurt too.

I heard the ratchet of a shotgun just as I heard the quick start and stop of a police siren.

My body froze but my eyes flew to the side and I saw a man in a wife beater, a beat up, dark colored, terrycloth robe, a pair of slacks that led into a pair of bedroom slippers and he was holding a shotgun. My eyes then moved to the entrance of the parking lot where a squad car, no flashing lights, was pulling in. Then my eyes moved, peering around the two sidekicks in front of me. I saw Gray had dispatched one guy. He was groaning and kind of rolling but mostly he seemed to be fighting for consciousness. He had Cocky Guy down on his knees in front of him, bent back, his fist was wrapped in Cocky Guy’s collar and his other arm was cocked back ready to deliver a blow. He had blood streaming down his face from a cut over his left eye but Cocky Guy appeared to be bleeding profusely from his nose, a cut lip and a gash on his cheekbone.

Jeez, the whole thing lasted maybe five minutes. How could he inflict that much damage in five minutes?

“Buddy, what the hell?” the guy in the wife beater asked loudly. “Christ, by now, don’t you know better? How many times does Gray gotta teach you this lesson?”

I found this comment interesting.

The hotel guy got no further and therefore, alas, didn’t explain this because the cop had stopped the car and was folding out.

I found this alarming.

I was not a big fan of being in the presence of cops. At first, long ago, health hazard. Now it was an occupational hazard.

The cop rested his arms on the top of his open door, leaned into them and demanded of the parking lot as a whole, “Tell me my eyes are deceiving me.”

My two sidekicks moved cautiously back while one of them muttered, “Uncle Lenny.”