Kyler's Justice (Assassins of Gravas Book 3) - N.J. Walters Page 0,3

there’s no more fried gatla fish with those crispy potato skins I make, I’ll be sure to tell them.”

“You wouldn’t?”

Kyler almost smiled at the look of horror on the man’s face. Etta was proving to be resourceful and intelligent. Like her brother and father?

“Look, Wallace. If you want to ask a waitress out or see if she wants to have some fun, then ask her. Don’t grab her ass while she’s serving. She’s not that kind of working girl. They get paid for that.”

He heaved a sigh and rubbed his forehead. “Sorry, Etta.”

“No harm done. How about a drink on the house?” She patted the man on the shoulder before hurrying back to the bar and setting the laser rifle behind the counter.

She hadn’t been working there when he’d walked in. No way would he have missed her. In this den of despair, she stood out like a beacon in the night sky, a star shining bright.

Shit, he was getting downright poetic.

As though sensing someone watching her, Etta scanned the room, her gaze landing directly on him. He didn’t look away, even though she couldn’t see past his hood.

With a roll of her shoulders, she conferred with the waitress and poured drinks. Before long, everyone had another drink. Everyone but him.

The waitress walked away without making eye contact. Etta scooted out from behind the bar. Two glasses of ale in hand, she sauntered toward him.

His first instinct was to stand as she approached. He kept his seat and tilted his head to one side.

“Mind if I join you?”

****

A bead of sweat rolled down her back, but she kept her expression neutral, bordering on friendly. The situation with Wallace and the others was nothing new, but it was always a balancing act to keep it from exploding into something serious.

She’d forgotten how much she’d hated handling these kinds of conflicts.

Most of the time, she hid in the kitchen, keeping the food coming. And since sales were up since she’d been back, Helldrick hadn’t complained.

But tonight, he’d left her to close the bar. An unusual occurrence. Call her paranoid, but the fact there was a stranger watching her seemed like too much of a coincidence. Sure, they got newcomers from time-to-time, but they almost always came with a friend or ally. At least the first time.

She’d been away a long time, so she’d checked with the waitress, who’d confirmed her suspicions. This guy was new. He was also huge. Even sitting down, he seemed to dominate the space. He radiated a fuck-off vibe that was unmistakable.

Better to take the bull by the horns and find out what she could about the man. Maybe she was mistaken. Maybe he’d simply been curious about the drama.

The itch in the back of her neck said otherwise.

The stranger hadn’t moved. Not to fidget or shift his weight. A cold shiver skated down her spine, in spite of the stagnant heat in the room. Danger! her mind screamed.

She licked her dry lips and set his drink on the table. “Forget I asked.”

“Sit.” His voice was deep, completely without an accent of any kind. When she hovered there, he extended one of his legs and pushed the chair out.

Too late to rethink this. If she turned tail and ran, the others would notice. Because they were all sure as hell watching.

Cursing her impulsive action, she took the seat and placed her ale on the table. “You’re new here.” Oh, brilliant opening. He made her nervous, something she hadn’t expected.

She’d been running around Hell’s Gate since she was a child. Had grown up around the worst criminals in the galaxies. Not that there hadn’t been some good ones, but even they’d had a code they lived by that sometimes differed from that of the Alliance law enforcement patrols.

“Yes.”

She waited several heartbeats, but that was it. The corners of her lips twitched, a combination of humor and unease. “Not much of a talker, are you?”

He shook his head.

Laughing outright, she took a sip of ale. She’d poured the good stuff for them, not the rotgut her father served most of his customers.

This newcomer intrigued her. His features were hidden in the depths of the cloak he wore to cover his head. Again, not unusual. There were plenty here on the run from the law and just as many who’d turn them in for a bounty.

Honor among thieves was little more than a fairy tale.

“What’s your name?” The challenge was on to get him to say more than one word at