Dream Huntress (A Dreamseeker novel) (Entangled Ignite) (2 page)

Ironically, he always had a ride; some local usually took him anywhere he needed to go. Ty couldn’t have counted the number of times he’d hauled Dave around. Usually, it was home, to the diner, or to Buck’s. Dave had an affection for beer and “boobies,” as he would often yell out when the girls were on stage.

“That’s a lot of cash for a half-wit.” College Guy continued to give Dave trouble. “How ’bout we take some of it off your hands for you?” He tossed Dave’s wallet to a buddy.

The second jerk laughed and fingered through the wallet. “Look at this—Mr. Big Bucks. We could take your money and invest it for you.”

Ty moved, with the intention of taking care of the idiots bothering Dave, but the sexy cocktail waitress beat him to the punch. He slid into a chair and waited, figuring it was only a matter of time before she needed help.

“You better invest in a bulletproof vest and a bodyguard if any of these locals hear about you taking anything from Dave,” she suggested with an icy stare. “Give me the wallet and get the hell out. Don’t come back until you’ve figured out how to impersonate a human.”

The college kid puffed up his chest. “Blondie, you don’t have nearly enough muscle to back up your big mouth. You need to poke your scrawny ass into someone else’s business.”

“You think so?” She stepped closer until they were nose to nose.

Ty wasn’t sure whose jaw dropped more, his or the college guy’s she had now backed up a step.

“You see Tiny and Tim over there leaning against the doors?” she asked.

Ty glanced in the direction in which she’d nodded. He smiled, doubting very seriously whether their names were actually Tiny and Tim, but he appreciated the joke. There was at least eight hundred pounds of flesh between the two hulking bouncers.

“When I turn on the water works and tell ’em you grabbed me in the bathroom hallway and had your hands all over me, they’ll tear you apart just for the sport of it. I doubt a reattached dick ever functions the way it did the first time around.”

Ty eased to a stand. He didn’t know if the punk was stupid enough to actually touch her, but given the way she mouthed off, preparing to move quickly only seemed logical.

She fished a crumpled tissue out of a skintight pocket, started the fake sobbing, and turned toward the bouncers.

“Screw this,” the punk called after her. “We’re out of here. And don’t worry, we won’t be back to your skanky, redneck bar.”

Ty studied her with intrigue and awe. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to high five her or take her out back and shake some sense into her. Damn. Was she always like this? No sooner had the thought crossed his mind than she turned to Dave, rolled up a menu, and gently bopped him on top of his head.

“What did I tell you the other night about waving your wallet around?” she said. “Not everybody in here knows you or cares about you. You want someone to take your money? Or worse yet, hurt you and
then
take your money?”

“No,” Dave answered, looking down and refusing to meet her eyes.

Her full lips curved into a frown that looked a lot like guilt. She closed her eyes, inhaled a deep breath, then gently pinched his chin and tilted his head up. “I’m sorry, Davy. I’m not trying to be mean, but you don’t need any money in here. Buck runs a tab for you and settles up with your momma once a month, okay? I want you to put the wallet in your pocket and leave it there.”

Dave put his arms around her waist. “Okay.”

Actually, it sounded more like, “O-ay,” but Ty understood the sentiment. She ruffled Dave’s hair and stalked away.

Ty continued to watch her. So did half the guys in the place. That annoying little fact stirred an overwhelming urge to cover her up. A T-shirt, a jacket, a chastity belt—hell, anything would’ve been an improvement. It was just a matter of time before one of the drunks tried something. Only an asshole like Buck would expect a woman to wear next to nothing in a place like this. Ty slid onto the stool he’d been using when she took his order.

She headed to the bar, filled her tray, and returned to deliver drinks, seemingly unfazed by the altercation.

“Six dollars, cowboy.” She set the beer in front of Ty. “Oh, I’m sorry, that’s right; you’re not a cowboy. Six dollars, Mr. President.”

A real smile curved her lips, and his chest tightened again. He attributed the rogue sensation to anger. Buck’s lucky streak was still going strong; looked like he’d found another pretty victim to lure into a life of sex and drugs.

The Lewis character eased up behind her and slid a hand under her arm and around her waist. Then he slipped it up to her breast and squeezed.

Ty’s final string of self-control snapped. He jumped up from his bar stool, but the waitress spun around and clocked Lewis with a right jab that would have made any boxer proud. By the look of the blood trickling out of Lewis’s nose, she could hold her own. Then she stepped closer and pushed him hard in the chest.

“Holy crap, Lewis. If you put your goddamned hands on me one more time tonight, I swear to God, I’m gonna have Buck kick your sorry self out of here.” She spun back around to Ty. “You need anything else?” No smiles this time, just irritation.

“I’m not judging,” Ty said, “but I’d think a beautiful woman like you could make a lot more money doing something a little less…stressful.” Okay, so maybe his tone did sound a little harsh and judgmental, but she clearly didn’t belong at Buck’s.

She glared, as if
arrogant ass
was etched across his forehead. “Really? Well, I’d think a cute guy like you could get a real date instead of getting his rocks off watching women strip. The world is full of mysteries.”

The woman had a knack for stunning people into silence. Her sharp, lethal tongue was as dangerous as her fist.
Run away now
, his brain said. Unfortunately, his brain was outnumbered by his other body parts, so he stood there watching her take a deep breath to compose herself.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “Really. I didn’t mean that. It’s just…Lewis is grating on my last nerve.”

Ty dug for a ten and then sat on his bar stool. “No,
I’m
sorry. I didn’t mean—”

Lewis grabbed the back of her bikini top and yanked hard. The straps snapped. Then he reared back in his stool and kicked the thick sole of his work boot fast and hard into her back.

She lurched forward, busting her head on a table and falling face first and topless onto the floor.

“Damn tease,” Lewis hollered.

Ty lurched forward and plowed a fist into Lewis’s jaw, knocking him backwards onto a table. Then he hauled Lewis up by his shirt but restrained himself from beating the drunken asshole unconscious. Instead, he shoved Lewis to the ground and twisted his arm behind his back.

Buck flew over like a lightning bolt.

Ty had never seen anyone with that much body mass move so quickly.

“Break it up; no fighting in here,” Buck shouted.

“I’m not fighting, just taking down this idiot who attacked”—it dawned on him he didn’t know her name—“your girl.”

They both looked over at her. With blood pouring down her face, she struggled to sit up and cross her arms to cover herself. One of the other waitresses handed her a towel to catch the blood gushing from her forehead. She looked like she didn’t know whether to put it on her head or cover her chest.

A crowd of customers formed around the commotion. The music continued to play, but the noise level dropped considerably. Everyone was too busy gawking at the naked, injured waitress to be loud. Ty looked up and realized all eyes were on her, which made him want to throttle every idiot looking in her direction.

He dropped his hold on Lewis and stripped off his button-down shirt. He kneeled beside her, guided her arms in, and tugged the shirt around her. Sucking in a sharp, involuntary gulp of air, he fastened the button directly over her chest.

Holy shit!
No wonder every guy in the place was staring. Maybe somewhere there were breasts more beautiful than hers, but he’d certainly never seen any. Why he was so relieved to cover them, he had no idea.

“Lewis, get out and stay out.” Buck hauled Lewis off the floor with one hand. “If I ever hear about you touching one of my girls again, in
or
out of my club, you won’t live long enough to regret it. Boys…” Buck waved to Tiny and Tim, who caught Lewis when he stumbled halfway across the dance floor. Buck turned and stared at Ty.

Ty helped the bloodied waitress off the floor, but he could feel Buck’s eyes burning a hole through him.

“You the McGee boy? The cop over in Longdale?”

“Yes, sir, only I’m not a cop anymore. I ran into a little trouble and decided it wasn’t quite the right fit for me. Now I’m doing PI work and personal security. Looks like you could add some brains to your muscle around here.”

“Maybe, but I don’t hire cops.” Buck looked at one of the other waitresses. “Get Jordan cleaned up. Let me know if she needs stitches.”

Two other girls brought more towels and shuffled her toward the back door.

Ty had to admit he was torn. It was the perfect opportunity to get his foot in the door with Buck. But something about the sexy waitress with the gash in her head wouldn’t let go of him. He wasn’t sure if anyone at Buck’s had enough brains not to let her bleed to death on the back step. She might have even blacked out for a second or two, and blood still gushed from her head.

“Damn it,” he muttered as the girls guided her out the door. Then he looked back at Buck. Whether to help a beautiful, injured woman or beg a mean, sweaty asshole for a job he didn’t want, the choice should have been obvious. He was truly worried about his own sanity when he took a few steps in Buck’s direction.

He walked up behind the human mammoth. “Buck.”

Buck turned and squinted his cold, mean eyes.

“Sir, actually, I was serious about a job. I’ve been out of the cop business for a while now and could use some income. I know how to handle a weapon and take down a drunk like Lewis with one hand tied behind my back. I’ve heard there’s been some trouble here, and I can help with that. If you’re busy right now, we could set up a time to talk tomorrow.”

Buck turned away as though he wasn’t going to answer, but then threw his head around and grumbled over his shoulder, “Three o’clock. You better not waste my time, boy.”

“No, sir, three o’clock tomorrow. I’ll see you here.”

Ty was pleased. He played that just right, and it took no more than thirty seconds. Now he was off to find a beautiful, bleeding waitress.

…

So much for having dreams.
Useful
dreams.

Hardly a night went by that didn’t include some haunting vision while she slept. Since she’d been cursed her entire life with images of horrible, violent crimes, Jordan figured she should get a little peek at her own upcoming reality, a helpful warning when she needed one. But, no. Nada. Zilch. Not even a little whiff of impending doom.

“Jordan?”

She looked up.
Great.
The cowboy who’d scolded her for working at a strip club leaned against the frame of Buck’s back door with a big, fat
I told you so
in his expression.

“You okay?” He moved closer, dipping his hands into his front pockets. “We never got around to full introductions. I’m Tyler McGee. I heard Buck call you Jordan.”

She sat on top of the picnic table used for outdoor smoke breaks. The dripping blood from the gash in her head had mostly stopped, but she’d yet to get the trembling under control. Gingerly, she nodded.

As a rule, Jordan wasn’t typically at a loss for words, but his intense stare frayed her nerves.

Apparently, he gave up on any meaningful response. Shaking his head, he turned and walked toward the parking lot.

Even injured, she found it difficult to take her eyes off his backside. Man, was he built. Like a heavily muscled upside down triangle. His jeans hung enticingly from his hips. Well-worn denim cradled an ass that was pure temptation. Her breathing hitched, and a rush of heat flared through her.

She exhaled slowly. What the hell caused that burst of insanity? The knock on her head must have triggered a sudden fascination with cowboy boots. Or maybe it was just the solid wall of muscle wearing them. Didn’t matter—those kind of thoughts shouldn’t even be a blip on the radar.

Closing her eyes eased the throbbing, so she rested her head in her hands and rubbed her temples. Just a few seconds of peace, and she could pull it together. Local backup was only a button push away, but she sure didn’t want that kind of shit storm raining down. Explaining how she’d managed to get hurt less than a week into an investigation was not going to boost anyone’s confidence that she had the mental clarity to close this case.

Plus there was a small technicality—she wasn’t supposed to be working inside the club yet. A minor detail.

Even though Jordan worked for the St. Louis PD, she currently answered to FBI Special Agent, Ted Bahan. He was in charge of the multi-jurisdictional task force known as “Operation China White.” He’d assigned her to apply for the job at Buck’s and settle into her apartment, but nothing more. The team that would wire her and do the surveillance wouldn’t arrive for more than a week.

So she’d applied at Buck’s four days ago. Who knew she’d be hired on the spot and start the same day? Failing to mention the small turn of events prickled her conscience. But Bahan doubting her ability to stay objective and finish a case she’d given countless hours to prickled even more.

Bahan claimed to be a friend, but he sure as hell hadn’t hesitated to pull rank. A friend wouldn’t insist on watching her like an errant second-grader. A friend would treat her like the experienced cop she was. She’d likely closed more undercover narcotics cases than any other detective in St. Louis, and frankly, the whole damn thing chapped her ass.

“I don’t know if it’s the bump on your head or the fact that you’re barely dressed in forty-degree weather, but you’re shaking.”

She looked up. Cowboy had returned.

“Do you have some real clothes I can get for you?” Sounding annoyed, he slung a jacket around her shoulders and pulled it tight around her neck.