Page 33 of Legends: Easton (Legends of Fire Creek #3)

Easton slid the Scotch tumbler across the bar toward his customer before swinging his gaze around to where Bailee sat with his family. He’d been watching her all evening when he wasn’t dealing with waitresses or customers.

At first, he tried not to be obvious about it. She was surrounded by his family and people he knew, so he should have been able to relax and focus on work. But it wasn’t paranoia about her safety that pulled his attention. It was the woman herself. His connection to her wasn’t so easy to ignore.

“What’s her name, E?”

He grabbed a towel from behind him and mopped up condensation from the bar’s surface. His eyes stayed on Bailee, looking good enough to eat in her red fitted top and jeans that were just tight enough to spotlight her curves without being overt.

“Like I’m going to tell you, Eddie. The last thing I need is to compete with you for her affections.”

The man guffawed before chugging back a gulp of his tap beer. His silver hair stuck straight up in tufts as if it had never seen the business end of a comb. His body was as tall as it was wide, and the crook at the end of his nose gave him an eagle-like appearance.

At eighty if he was a day, Eddie Tolliver was a fixture at the bar, and Easton enjoyed sparring with the man.

He retired from the post office some twenty years ago and went to work with Ben at the hardware store as a stock boy.

The man never slowed down, and he ended each day the same way — at the Fire Bar and Grill.

He always drank one beer and one shot of top-shelf whiskey, ate his weight in peanuts, and then headed home to bed.

“Your girl’s safe from me,” Eddie drawled. “I got my eye on somebody else, a sweet little thing who moved into the retirement home down the hall from me. She’s a little spitfire that gets my motor going.”

Easton threw his back and laughed. “Good for you! Mine is a little spitfire too. They make life pretty interesting, wouldn’t you say?”

Eddie grinned. “Keeps us on our toes, that’s for damn sure. So why are you behind the bar instead of dancing with your girl? You better stake your claim before somebody beats you to it.”

“You know, Eddie, I couldn’t agree more. Sandy, cover for me for a bit?”

His favorite waitress, one of the few he trusted to cover for him when he was on break, stepped behind the bar. “Sure thing.”

Easton wasted no time crossing the floor to the table where Bailee was in conversation with Reagan, Melody, Luke, Ben and Jackson. She smiled when she saw him, her gaze curious. He didn’t acknowledge his family but reached for Bailee’s hand. Pulling her to her feet, he led her to the dance floor.

The song was a country tune with a rhythmic beat and sultry sound. He spun her around and pulled her close to him, his hips swaying against hers. With a flirty smile, she wiggled her body to the music, teasing and tantalizing him with her moves.

As much as he wanted to hold her close and sway to a classic slow song, he didn’t hate watching her body move seductively to the faster beat.

The song was over way too soon, and he indulged by having a second dance with her.

Sandy had the bar covered. The crowd was manageable, and if anyone needed anything, they could get Jackson’s attention.

He spun Bailee under his arm, and she fell against his body, laughing as carefree as he’d seen her since she arrived in Fire Creek.

He lowered his head and kissed her, intending the contact to be brief. But once he tasted her lips, he couldn’t resist deepening the kiss, pulling her closer to him. He only broke away when a round of cheers went through the bar.

Bailee laughed, her cheeks flushing a becoming pink. They swayed to the fast song while keeping their close hold on each other.

“Looks like I can add dancing to the list of things you do well,” she teased.

“I don’t know about that, but dancing with you makes me want to do more of it. You seem to be having fun.”

“I am. For a minute there, I forgot why we were here.”

“Good. You shouldn’t worry about it. We’ve got your back, and we’re keeping a watch on the perimeter. You’re safe here, Bailee.”

She ran a finger down his cheek. “I appreciate that, but I want this to be over, too. So you have to relax your guard some, or Melvin won’t make his move.”

“I really want to get my hands on that bastard.”

She giggled, telling Easton the wine she’d been drinking tonight was doing its job maybe too well. “I think I would like to see that. My guy, getting all protective of me. It’s kind of sexy.”

“Hmm,” he murmured as he nuzzled her hair, the faint scent of roses tickling his nostrils. “You’re making it hard to go back to work.”

“Just gives you something to look forward to once your shift is over.”

The song ended, and he reluctantly led her back to the table. “You guys make sure she lays off the wine and gets some food in her belly, okay?”

He speared his brothers with a fierce look. Luke scowled back at him, Jackson grinned, and Ben saluted mockingly.

“You got it.”

Easton noticed that Eddie had already left by the time he returned to the bar. Sandy was busy filling orders when he stepped back to his post.

“I got this. You can get back to the floor.”

Sandy shook her head. “You need to check in with the kitchen first. They said something about needing a hand when you get a chance.”

Their grill master, Marty Stern, was good to handle the demands of the kitchen on his own, but when the bar was busy, Easton and Jackson stepped in to give him a hand as needed.

“You good for a little longer?”

Sandy nodded. “I got it. My tips are better when I work behind the bar anyway.”

Easton rolled his eyes at her. Even if she wasn’t working behind the bar, Sandy got a portion of the tips he earned. He never kept the money and would divide it among the waitstaff as a bonus for them.

“Be right back.”

Once in the kitchen, Marty asked him for help in getting supplies from the stockroom, so he didn’t have to leave the grill unattended. Easton retrieved the supplies and plated a few orders while Marty started grilling more burgers.

The smell of grease hung heavy in the air, but Easton barely noticed it anymore. He gave the kitchen a once-over to make sure there wasn’t something else he could take care of before returning to tend the bar. The overflowing garbage can at the back of the kitchen caught his eye.

“Hey, I’ll take the trash to the dumpster for you. Be back in a sec.”

“Sure thing,” Marty shouted back, though he was preoccupied with his food prep.

Easton shook his head, not even sure if Marty heard what he said or just gave a blanket response when he heard Easton talking to him.

He pulled the garbage bag from the can, shaking it to settle the trash in the bag so he could close it.

Replacing the full bag with a fresh one, he lifted the trash bag high as he stepped out into the alley, heading toward the dumpster.

They usually waited to take the trash out at the end of the night, but he hated letting it build up until it overflowed the can. The trip to the dumpster was a quick one, and once the door closed behind him, the alley was quiet with only a few crickets chirping to break the silence.

With a hefty toss, the bag landed in the large metal container with a thunk. Easton turned back and drew up short.

A shadow loomed in front of him, using the dark recesses of the alley to hide his identity.

Easton could tell the figure was tall, muscular, and imposing.

Any bar patrons this time of night were inside or in the parking lot out front.

For the man to be in the alley meant he was up to something, and Easton braced himself for a confrontation.

“No one’s allowed back here, friend. Why don’t you head inside and grab a drink? On the house. Just tell them the bartender sent you.”

The man stepped closer to him, this time under the moon’s illumination. Shit. Easton could make out enough of the man’s features to know he was staring face-to-face with Clive Melvin.

The man kept his slow approach, and Easton shifted to the side to keep distance between them. As much as he wanted to pound the man into the ground, he refused to make the first move. He pegged the man as too smart for that. He would be prepared, putting Easton at a disadvantage.

Easton couldn’t resist baiting him, though. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you, but you’ve kept yourself hidden.”

The man shrugged nonchalantly. “No one finds me until I’m ready to be found.”

The Eastern European accent was unexpected. Nothing in their research into Melvin revealed his origin, so he had to wonder if the accent was legit or meant to mask his identity.

“Right,” Easton continued. “Good point. Still, though, you took a while coming out from whatever rock you were under.”

“Most people aren’t too happy for me to come around.”

Easton barked a derisive laugh. “You’re dumber than I gave you credit for. I needed you to come around, so we could end this once and for all. I’m not letting you near her.”

“It’s almost touching, isn’t it? How he thinks he’s protecting her?”

That gave Easton pause. Was the guy talking to himself? In third person? Not only did their intel not hit on his accent, it also didn’t indicate a history of mental illness. Easton didn’t realize what was going on until it was too late.

The split-second sensation of a prick to his skin where his neck and his back met had him whirling around, but by then, the fast-acting drug he’d been given was doing its job. He stumbled at the sudden weakness in his legs, and the world spun around him.

A figure emerged from the shadows, this form slighter. The image blurred, preventing him from noting any details on the second person in the alley. As Easton dropped to his knees, he blinked to focus his double-vision on her face.

Her arms hung straight at her sides, a syringe dangling from the fingertips of one hand.

The face that stared back at him was cold, ripping any traces of beauty from the brown skin and delicate bones of her face.

Her steps were measured as she moved closer to him, stopping just short of stepping on him as Easton’s strength faded away.

He fell with a hard thud to the ground. Blackness crowded into his vision. The woman’s icy voice filled his ears.

“It is a shame, how you want to protect her only to be the reason she comes to us. But it’s almost poetic how the two of you will die together.”

Though he fought against the drug’s pull, Easton was no match for its effects. He slipped into the abyss of unconsciousness.