Page 37 of Covert Affections (Shadow Agents/PSI-Ops #5)

Chapter Thirty

Lindy

Metallica’s Enter Sandman thumped through speakers in the packed bar as Lindy made her way behind the counter, dodging elbows and navigating the sea of bodies.

She’d never seen the bar so full of people.

She recognized some men from the man-meat market earlier in the day.

They may have bolted when they learned Charley wouldn’t be offering sex in exchange for ranch hand work, but they were back now.

Too bad for them that a convention of super hot and big dudes was apparently in town because the bar was full of them, making the man-meat market men seem almost ordinary in comparison.

Not Jesse, she thought, and her darkness stirred as if it might wake.

So far tonight, it had been oddly dormant, as if hibernating.

She hated to think what it might be conserving its energy for.

Did it have plans to drain the tri-state area’s male population?

If so, the packed bar would be a great place to start.

There were a lot more women in the bar than usual too.

Word had probably spread about the line of hot men outside the bar earlier in the day.

Any way you looked at it, more bodies in the bar meant more people spending money.

That was good for the bar. It needed the extra influx of income to help handle the laundry list of upgrades it required.

Waverly pushed through the mass of bodies.

Her long brown hair was piled on top of her head in a messy bun.

She was wearing a T-shirt with the bar’s logo on it as well as the word “staff,” a pair of cutoff jean shorts, and cowboy boots.

She put her serving tray full of empty glasses and pitchers on the bar top before exhaling loudly.

“I need two pitchers of beer and two bottles of whiskey.”

Lindy lifted a brow. “At this rate, we’re going to run out of both.”

“Right,” she said with a wide-eyed expression. “In the month I’ve been working here, I’ve never seen it this busy.”

Lindy laughed as she set about filling the pitchers with beer. “I’ve been around this bar on a regular basis since I was seventeen. I’m turning thirty soon. It has never once been like this.”

She let out a shaky laugh. “Oh good. I was worried this was a monthly occurrence. I knew the mechanical bull you brought in would draw a crowd, but not like this.” She playfully wiped imaginary sweat off her forehead.

Someone bumped into her from behind and quickly helped to right her before apologizing.

Her gaze found Lindy’s. “Don’t get me wrong.

I’m loving the tips, but this is insane. ”

“Totally,” said Lindy with a nod, putting the pitchers on the tray. She then grabbed two bottles of whiskey and added them to the tray as well.

Waverly nodded her thanks and turned. She whistled loudly, getting the crowd’s attention. “Move your asses, or I’m dumping this all over you, and you’re paying for it! Then I’m kicking your ass out of here.”

The crowd parted, allowing her to pass through.

Lindy laughed loudly. Waverly could blow away in a strong wind yet had managed to get a crowd full of people to move like she was parting the Red Sea.

“That’s one way to do it,” said a tall, built man as he pushed through the people.

He had cop energy despite having a close-cut beard and long dark hair that hung just past his broad shoulders.

His blue T-shirt had a screen print of a grizzly bear on it, and he was in a pair of jeans that looked great on him.

He stared down at the man on the barstool nearest him.

The newcomer’s expression said he was not a man to be toyed with.

Evidently, Barstool Guy agreed, getting up quickly and gifting the newcomer the seat. Barstool Guy attempted to scurry away.

The newcomer cleared his throat over the sound of the music, halting the man’s hasty retreat. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

Barstool Guy’s skin flushed and he tugged nervously at the collar of his shirt before gulping. “Uh, um? Maybe?”

“Settle your tab if you’ve got one,” said the male, the faintest hint of an accent there. If Lindy was right, it was German.

Barstool Guy pulled a fifty-dollar bill from his wallet and tossed it at Lindy like they were playing a game of Hot Potato.

German Dude caught the money and handed it to Lindy with a gentle grace that seemed at odds with his size.

Lindy smiled as she took the cash, glancing past him at Barstool Guy. “I’ll get your change.”

Barstool Guy shook his head, his gaze flickering to German Dude. “Keep it!”

He rushed off, leaving Lindy standing there confused.

German Dude took a seat on the barstool, putting his elbows on the bar top, exuding calm, yet dominant energy. He reminded her greatly of Robert, and she liked him instantly.

“What can I get you?” she asked.

“Whatever you have on draft works,” he returned.

Lindy poured his beer. “Haven’t seen you here before.”

“No,” he said evenly. “You haven’t.”

“Have a name?” she questioned, attempting small talk. She slid the beer toward him.

He lifted it and took a sip. “I do.”

Lindy nodded to a bar regular who was seated a few stools down and started his normal order. She glanced at German Dude. “Well, aren’t you just a ray of sunshine who never shuts up?”

A slight smile tugged at the edge of his mouth. “My name is Teddy.”

“Nice to meet you, Teddy,” she replied, finishing the other man’s order. “I’m Lindy. Welcome to my bar.”

“Interesting place,” he said, sipping his beer again. “Is it always so loud and crowded?”

She was about to say no but thought about the mud wrestling thing she’d set up the month prior. While it hadn’t drawn a crowd this big, it had been pretty loud and rowdy.

Before she could answer, something crashed in the kitchen, the sound echoing throughout the bar.

Lindy hurried toward the swinging door that led to the kitchen, assuming Irwin had finally decided to show up for work.

She pushed it open, intending to give the cook a piece of her mind.

She drew up short at the sight before her.

Irwin was still a no-show. There was a pile of pots and pans on the floor, and under them was Bill.

He glanced up at her with a saucepan on his head, covering one eye, making him look like a deranged Johnny Appleseed.

On the metal center prep table was a large plate of what might have once been nachos.

Instead of typical nacho toppings, Bill had gummy bears, sardines, and what looked a lot like peanut butter clumps, as well as melted cheese and ground beef.

Lindy had worked at the bar the greater part of her life and never once seen a can of sardines there. Had he brought his own?

“Bill, what are you doing?” she demanded.

He pushed the pan up more on his head and offered a toothy grin. “Fixing me something to eat. Want some? I made plenty of nachos.”

“How did you get back here?” There was no way in hell she was agreeing to eat what he’d made.

He pointed toward the back of the kitchen, to the door that led to the back hall, and then outside.

It wasn’t something visible to the public and made her wonder how he’d even known it was there.

“That way. I was late getting here because of a stupid shit-for-brains horse, but that’s all settled now and how it should be. I’m hungry.”

“Is Charley here with you?” She hurried to his side and bent to help him up.

He waved her off. “Nope. I’m Han Solo.”

She wasn’t exactly what anyone would call a sci-fi buff but even she knew Star Wars references when she heard them. What she wasn’t sure of was why he’d said it. She glanced around, looking for Gus, who had seemed to stick close to the older man at the job fair.

Bill pushed up and off the floor, leaving pots and pans falling all around him. “Lindy-Lou, tell me you ain’t hoping to find Kitty-Scat.”

“Who?” she questioned.

“Jesse Wood-For-Brains James,” returned Bill as he leaned, grabbed a handful of nachos, and stuffed them into his mouth.

Lindy nearly threw up. “I was looking for Gus. Is he here?”

He gave her a look that suggested she might need to get her head checked. “Lindy-Lou, I done told you, I’m Han Solo.”

It hit her then. “Oh! You mean solo!”

He blinked, his expression patient. He patted her arm gently. “Good thing you’re a looker.”

Lindy would have been offended had the source not been Bill. “Solo means alone. By yourself. I’m not sure Han Solo is what you were aiming at there, unless you have a really tall, really hairy sidekick that follows you around while making weird noises.”

Bill scratched his stomach and tipped his head, clearly deep in thought. “I got a lot of buddies who are freakishly tall and can be really hairy. They make a lot of noises. Most of them are weird.”

She grinned. “I stand corrected. Is Gus coming here?”

Bill shook his head. “He’s out at the rescue with Chuck-Wagon, Butter-Nuts, and Chuck-Wagon’s dog.”

He wasn’t exactly easy to follow when he was talking, but Lindy caught most of it.

“Gus is with Charley out at the rescue?” she asked.

He nodded, eating more of his disgusting nacho concoction.

“Who is Butter-Nuts?” she asked.

“A horse,” replied Bill, as food fell out of his mouth. “The one that made me late getting here.”

Lindy bit her lip to keep from laughing. “CJ named one of her horses Butter-Nuts?”

He shrugged.

“Wait, did you say Gus is with CJ’s dog? She doesn’t have a dog,” corrected Lindy.

Bill burped loudly and lifted his plate of nachos. “She does now. Cute little thing. Farts more than me though.”