Nightfall Read Free Page A

tricks. Get your ass in gear.”
    Had the man always been such a disgrace? As Artie hurried
past, Quinn noticed how the man’s T-shirt was covered with unidentifiable
stains and his jeans had spots worn through. Quinn paid the man enough he could
buy himself some decent clothes. But she’d been right. He smelled like an
alcohol-soaked sponge.
    He knew Artie had a drinking problem, but…aw shit. He could
keep telling himself the barn was clean enough, but every day the manure was
rising higher and higher. Eventually he wouldn’t be able to avoid having it
right in his face.
    Quinn took a deep breath, calming himself down. He’d get
through tonight, then maybe he’d do some hard thinking after closing. Sam’s
wisdom aside, it might be time to call it quits on this.
    For now, he returned to the floor and made one more pass at
the shattered glass on the floor. Grabbing the big serving tray from behind the
bar, he started bussing the closest tables. But as he carried the empties to
the bigger trash bin, his attention was caught by a customer coming up to pay
his tab. Narrowing his eyes, Quinn gripped the dustpan hard as he watched Artie
open the drawer—without ringing up a sale. He gave the man waiting with beer
bottle and cash in hand whatever change he was expecting.
    She was right. The motherfucker was stealing from him.
    Maybe it had been happening for a while and her pointing it
out had taken off the blinders. Either way, he saw red. He considered himself a
civilized man, but at the end of the day there was a code for dealing with this
kind of shit. It didn’t involve lawyers or calling the cops.
    In the time it took to blink, he’d crossed the floor,
slammed the dustpan and tray on the end of the bar and lifted Artie from the
spot where he was standing. He shoved him against the wall.
    “Not only are you lazy and a slob,” Quinn spat, “but you’re
a goddamn thief. How much of my drawer goes into your pocket every night,
Artie? How the fuck much?”
    “B-B-But, Quinn,” the man blubbered.
    “But nothing, you ass. I should—”
    Quinn broke off. He realized he was honestly mad enough to
do the man real harm, his hands just itching with the need to break and
bludgeon. It was then he found out where the delicate-looking woman with steel
blue eyes was sitting. At the table right next to where he had Artie pinned.
    She’d picked the spot that had a full view of the floor and
the door, and was backed up to a corner. It was the table the sheriff preferred
when he came to drink, and any of the active military guys on leave.
    When Quinn glanced down and to the left, she was less than
two feet away. Even so, she hadn’t vacated her seat. She didn’t seem flustered
by him slamming Artie against the wall hard enough to make it vibrate right
behind her head. She had her gaze on Quinn, and what he saw in those eyes
steadied him.
    Cool understanding.
    Reaching out, she hooked her slim fingers in Quinn’s jeans
pocket, giving his hip bone an intimate stroke. She tilted her head, a subtle
shift toward the door that said volumes.
    He’s not worth it. Kick him to the curb and be done with
it.
    Unbelievably, his cock had sprung right back into a hard jam
against his fly, just from that brief contact. But his reaction to her was more
than physical. Though the touch aroused him, it also settled that enraged core
that was about to do something he couldn’t undo. She held him until he
steadied, gave her an answering nod. Then she leaned back, letting him go.
    Looking at the sniveling mess he was holding, Quinn dropped
the man from his grip. “You’re fired. Don’t ever let me see your miserable face
again.”
    He made sure of it, marching Artie to the door amid applause
and grating comments like “about damn time”. In the parking lot, Quinn stood
there, arms akimbo and legs braced, watching Artie climb into his junker truck,
grind the engine into gear and trundle out onto the road. As the dust settled,
Quinn tilted his