to the blonde. “Where did you get this?”
The blonde sniffed. “Why should I tell you?”
“I could pay you.”
Whoa. Rafe almost warned the good doctor against offering money, but hey, he’d done enough already.
Blondie hesitated. “Yeah? How much?”
The doctor’s brow crinkled and she lifted her huge purse to her chest, dug around inside it and finally produced a couple of bills. “Would you take twenty dollars?”
“Make it fifty.”
Heh. Blondie was no fool.
“I’ll give you seventy-five,” the doctor shot back, pushing her glasses up on her nose. “For the information and the necklace.”
The blonde’s eyes glittered with greed. “I got it at the Blue Bayou Flea Market.” She held her palm out expectantly.
The naive doctor set her chin. “Which stall?”
The blonde pursed her lips and scowled. “I don’t know! Hey, are you gonna pay me or what?”
Dr. Brooks turned her back, hunched over and pulled something out from the neckline of her shirt. Turning back around, she slapped the money into Blondie’s waiting hand, who made a beeline for the bar.
Shaking his head, Rafe handed the necklace to the doctor. “You paid way too much for that, cher.”
She shrugged. “I didn’t want to cause another disturbance in your bar.”
Rafe blinked. Had she truly been worried about his business? Right. She probably just didn’t want to get thrown out again.
“Well, thank you for your help.” She extended her hand. “Offering that woman free drinks all night was extremely generous of you.”
Rafe stared at her right hand. He should shake it and get her out of his life forever. “Tell the police. Let them check it out.”
She dropped her hand. “Of course, I’ll tell them.”
Good.
“But I also intend to search the flea market myself.”
Of course she did. He shook his head.
“If it’s anything like the flea markets back home in Missouri, this place will have hundreds of stalls. I doubt the N.O.P.D. will have the manpower to question each one of the proprietors.”
Rafe shrugged. He didn’t need to get any more involved.
She placed her hand on his forearm and he tensed reflexively. “Really, thank you.” Her lips curved in a small smile before she turned toward the front door.
“Hey,” he called after her. When she looked back he folded his arms across his chest, trying to ignore the uneasy feeling in his gut. “Don’t stay out after dark.”
She frowned. “I can take care of myself.” Her expression became smug. “I have my trusty can of pepper spray.”
Pepper spray? She thought that would deter a gang during a turf war or stop a junkie jonesing for a hit? Damn it, what did he care what this woman did? He stared after her as she walked out of his bar and his life. Good riddance. He didn’t need her causing him any more trouble.
He went back to his bartending and didn’t give her another thought the rest of the night. Except for the times he glanced down at the tub of strawberries. Or when he had to pour Blondie another free drink. Or when the front door would open and he’d look over expecting to see her walking back in.
He cursed under his breath long and low the third time he caught himself feeling vaguely disappointed when it wasn’t her. What was wrong with him?
About four o’clock he locked the door behind the last straggling customers and headed for his office in the back.
Ro was lounging on his sofa, already changed into jeans and a tank top. “Free drinks, Rafe? All night?” She scowled and pursed her lips. “That’s your idea of handling it?”
“My bar.” He plunked down in his chair, pulled the bank bag out of the desk drawer and stuffed all the cash from the night’s take into it. He’d count it later.
“It’s just that I’ve never seen you take on a charity case before.”
“It’s not charity.” What was Ro’s problem, anyway? “I got her out of here with the least amount of commotion. Commotion is bad for business.”
Ro looked suspicious. “So, is she gone for good now?”
“Yep.” But something told him the doctor’s situation wasn’t going to be so easily solved.
“So… you want to…” Ro dangled her leg off the edge of the sofa. “Let off a little steam?”
Normally, he might have taken her up on her offer. “Nah, I better get the accounts payable since it’s almost the end of the month.” He opened his accounts book and grabbed a pencil.
Ro blinked, and then got to her feet. “Sure. Some other time, maybe.” She sauntered to the door, opened it and then turned back. “I got a bad feeling about that strange woman, Rafe.” He looked up at her and she seemed genuinely worried. Then she stepped out and closed the door behind her.
Rafe studied the spot where she’d stood for a moment, ran a hand over his jaw and then turned back to his desk. He worked the books for half an hour, but he couldn’t concentrate. He was restless. Something did feel wrong, but he couldn’t place what.
Disgusted with himself, he slammed his accounting book closed and trudged upstairs to his tiny apartment. He rubbed his stomach, trying to ignore that hollow pit feeling he always got when the shit was about to hit the fan. The way it always did, sooner or later.
Things were going pretty well with his bar right now though.
For seven long years he’d worked like a dog on offshore rigs in the Gulf to save enough to buy his own place. Then, it’d taken months to find real estate he could afford in the perfect location for his bar. And after signing the papers for this place, he’d overseen a complete remodel, spending six months getting it decked out just the way he wanted it.
The old man had drummed into him night after drunken night that he’d never be worth anything. Turning a profit on this place had been a big “Screw you, you old bastard!” to the man who’d raised him from the age of twelve. And though his pappy had been long dead, it’d still felt good.
By the time Rafe stepped out of the shower and got in bed, the sun was almost up. He laced his fingers behind his head and stared at a spot on the ceiling. He’d done what he’d set out to do. He’d proved his pappy wrong. He had everything he wanted. So, naturally, something was about to take it all away. Story of his life.
That’s what was bugging him. Things had been going too well lately. And now some tourist had disappeared from his bar.
Oh,
