Rome (Marked Men #3)(14)
Author: Jay Crownover

The big man caught my eye from behind the bar and waved me over. I tried not to cringe when I had to walk over the lovely rust-colored stain that spread across the old wooden floor, courtesy of yours truly. I whipped my hat off, because even though we were from two different branches, and I probably outranked him in the reality of things, there was just something about Brite that demanded you show respect. I don’t know if it was the eyes, so dark and serious, or that epic beard, but I had enough years in the service to know when to show proper regard for a fellow serviceman.

I leaned up against the end of the bar. I figured that kept me from looking like the sorry sacks that were posted up at it, already three or four rounds in.

“Thanks again for watching the bike, and the run to the ER. I really do appreciate it. I wish you would let me pay you for the damages.”

I had more money in savings than I knew what to do with. I wasn’t married, there wasn’t a girlfriend, I didn’t have kids, or a house and a dog, so while I was deployed, all I had to cover was the Harley and my truck. I wasn’t a millionaire by any stretch of the imagination, but until I figured out what in the hell I was going to do with myself for the foreseeable future, I most definitely had enough stockpiled to live on comfortably. I could clean up the mess I made in the Bar and not even notice it was gone. Only Brite just shook his shaggy head, and that rueful grin split his beard.

“I don’t need your money, son.”

I lifted the eyebrow that was under the scar, it was the only one I could arch independently, so I did it a lot.

“No? Well, what did you mean when you said we could work something out?”

I had to wait as he was called to the other end of the bar by one of the patrons. It startled me to realize the new customer was probably only five years older than me. I also recognized the Army Ranger insignia tattooed on his bicep and felt a shiver of apprehension slide down my spine. I didn’t want to see myself in these guys, in this place, but it was getting harder and harder not to.

By the time Brite made his way back to me, I had given up the fight and propped myself up on an empty stool. My thoughts had drifted down a rather dark path, and I was having to struggle really hard to stay in the present. I wondered briefly if it showed on my face. I used to think I was pretty good at hiding all the turmoil that was crawling, saturating, filling me up from the inside out. After the blowup with Rule, and the way Brite was looking at me as he lumbered in my direction, I wasn’t so sure that was the case. I cleared my throat and forced myself to meet that charcoal gaze as he leaned on heavy forearms across from me.

“How handy are you?”

I tilted my head to the side and considered him in puzzlement. “What exactly do you mean by ‘handy’?” I mean I could break down pretty much any weapon you put in my hand and have it back together and firing in seconds, I could field-dress any number of injuries, I could tinker with the motor on the Harley and probably troubleshoot the basics of anything thrown at me. I was a problem solver by nature, but I wasn’t going to go out and build a house from the ground up or anything crazy like that.

He gave me that grin that I was starting to think meant the guy had something up his sleeve.

“You’re a guy with plenty of time on his hands and I’m a guy with a bar in serious need of some TLC. I already spend too much time here and I have no desire to be stripping floors and refinishing this bar top at my age. You bled all over it, you can fix it.”

We stared at each other in a tense silence for a long time. I was trying to figure out if he was serious and I think he was waiting to see if I was going to waffle or not. Finally I had to blink, so I leaned back in the stool with a sigh.

“Are you sure you don’t just want me to come regulate, like watch the door for you for a few weeks or something? Then no one would have to worry about bleeding on the floor in the first place.”

He barked out a laugh that made me cringe.

“No offense, son, but last time you were in a scuffle in here, you were the one that had to get dragged to the doc.”

I made a face and tried not to let the truth of it sting my already wounded pride. “I was drunk, and outnumbered.”

“It doesn’t matter. I don’t need a bouncer. I need a helping hand, someone I can trust, and someone that can be in here and not judge, because maybe, just maybe, he sees a little bit of himself in some of the regulars.”

It took every single fiber of self-control I had not to react to his dead-on assessment of how I was feeling. I had to fight not to fidget but to just sit still and try and think of any good excuse not to do what he was asking me to do. When nothing came to mind, it made that dark place I was hovering on get just a little bit wider.

Not even six months ago I was in charge of over a hundred men. I planned clandestine missions, I was the go-to guy for all the answers and solutions, and none of that translated to any kind of goddamn real-world job experience. I indeed had way too much free time on my hands and no end in sight for it. It made my head hurt and my heart speed up a little in my chest, so I cleared my throat and told Brite thanks when he set a glass of water down in front of me.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather me write you a check?”

He shook his head and that grin I was really starting to mistrust broke through once again.

“Nope. I don’t need your cash, I need you.”

Seeing that there really was no way around it if I wanted to be a man of my word, I nodded solemnly. I wanted to show this burly man who I respected without question, because I felt like we were kindred spirits, that I might not know where I was going or what I was doing but I still had more honor than one man needed in this lifetime.

“All right. I can do what you need me to do. How long do you think it’ll all take?”

He laughed long and hard, so hard that some of the other regulars looked our way in curiosity. I didn’t see why it was funny but I kept my mouth shut.

“As long as it takes, son.”

That seemed vague and open-ended, but before I could make him hammer down a more definitive time frame, he slapped his meaty hands down on the bar in front of me and leaned across the wooden expanse so that we were eye to eye. It was unnerving to have those dark eyes peer so intently into my own, but I immediately understood that whatever he was going to follow up with was to be taken seriously. This was without a doubt Brite’s I’m serious as hell face.

“No drinking while you’re working. I mean it.”