Page 3 of Midnight’s Captive (Stroke of Midnight #2)

“What’s your business with the Jack?”

Ash sipped his whiskey, his eyes never leaving the bartender’s dark gaze. Her threat to remove his hand had been dead serious. When he’d spent time here before, the bartenders hadn’t been so... flinty.

It was an interesting change on top of others he’d noticed. A subtle lightness in the air for all the bar’s dim lighting. A less chaotic vibe. Small changes that spoke of larger ones. Ones he needed to understand and didn’t.

Negotiating with the Jack was a delicate dance and he couldn’t afford a misstep.

“That’s between the Jack and me,” he said, unwilling to share his business with anyone.

She’d obviously pegged him as an outsider since she’d tried to gouge him on the drink. He’d gotten the better of that deal, though. The payment details on his credit chip weren’t linked to him. They pulled from the account of some rich asshole who wouldn’t notice the extra charges. And if he did—well, it wouldn’t trace back to Ash.

“You got an appointment?” She crossed her arms over her chest, a move that pulled the black fabric tight against her torso, outlining breasts that would be plump handfuls. Damn, she was hot, with her long dark hair and dusky skin.

Rein it in, Ash. You can’t afford to be distracted by a pretty face.

“What are you, his social secretary?” Was this one of the big changes? It hadn’t been easy to see the Jack in the old days, but he didn’t remember the man having a gatekeeper like this one. You tried your luck at the bar and if the Jack had time, you pled your case and made your deal.

His joke didn’t go over well with the bartender. Her full lips pressed together.

“The Jack’s busy tonight.” Her tone was pissy and prissy.

And he was a sick, sick man for getting a little thrill from that. The woman had edges, ones he wouldn’t mind exploring. Not tonight, though. He’d come here for a reason and damned if he was leaving without what he came for.

“How the hell would you know that?”

“I’m psychic,” she said with a mocking smile.

“How about I ask the Jack myself?” He had to see the Jack tonight and if it took circumventing the pretty bartender, that’s what he would do.

“Not going to happen.” She broke eye contact, sweeping her gaze over his shoulder.

Ash set his drink down, then stood and braced his hands on the bar top. He leaned in, getting as close as he could, given the barrier between them. “Who’s going to stop me?”

She didn’t flinch. He had to give her props, the woman must have a spine of pure steel. He wasn’t physically scary—wiry didn’t seem to put the fear of anything into anyone—but he’d learned a few tricks about intimidation from corporate security over the last few years.

“They are,” she said, her eyes focused behind him.

Ash shifted sideways and saw the two big burly guys approaching. He was probably the same height, but they each looked double his size. It didn’t matter if their strength was real or augmented, they could easily put the hurt on him.

Deciding the bartender was the lesser threat, he turned to face them fully. He eased the tension out of his body and held his hands up. With guys this big, you had to move slowly and speak even slower.

“Problem?” The question wasn’t directed at him.

“Do we have a problem, sir?” the pretty bartender asked.

The “sir” was snotty and Ash swiveled his head to glare at her. “I need to see the Jack tonight. Is that a problem?” He didn’t dare take his eyes off the bouncers for too long. The big guy who hadn’t spoken looked at him funny.

“And I told you that’s not going to happen tonight,” she said. “Better luck next time.”

Ash ground his teeth together. She had an answer for everything and it was clear that the muscle looked to her for leadership. Maybe he should reevaluate his threat matrix.

Shit. After his meeting with Portia, he’d spent the whole day making and discarding plans. When he’d decided to approach the Jack for help, he’d worried about paying for assistance, not getting in. Getting stymied by a hot, stubborn bartender had never crossed his mind.

The bouncers stepped closer.

“How much?” he blurted.

The men stopped moving, so Ash focused on the bartender.

She stared at him, brow raised, a mocking smile on her lips. “How much what?”

Dammit, she knew what he was asking. “Everything for a price, right? How much to get in to see the Jack tonight?”

She didn’t even pretend to consider his offer. “Not tonight.”

“Why not?” Ash wasn’t leaving until he saw the Jack or they dragged him out.

“Because the Jack is busy tonight.” The chill in her voice rivaled Portia’s. “Get him out of here,” she told the bouncers.

“It’s an emergency!” The words slipped out.

Security stopped where they were. One directed a questioning glance at the bartender. Ash’s gaze bounced between them while “emergency” hung in the air.

Echoing his earlier pose, the bartender had dropped her arms and had her hands braced on the bar, leaning forward. “Seriously?”

“Dead serious.”

“Yours?” Her tone warned him not to lie. The bouncers shifted behind him, ready to move if she demanded it.

Ash paused. How to answer that? This whole situation was his fault. But if something happened to him, Hope would pay the price. “My sister. She’s sick and I need help getting her, well, help.”

Something flared in her eyes and Ash knew he’d chosen correctly. He’d passed the first test. Maybe, just maybe, he’d get what he wanted from the Jack tonight.

“And you want the Jack to help? Rather than, I don’t know, a clinic? Or your corporation?” She gestured at his jacket.

“The Jack may be our only hope.” That was nothing but truth. “I don’t think there’s anything the clinics can do. And the corporation?” He shuddered and shook his head. “I already owe them enough.”

All true. He owed the Tremaine Corporation plenty—and one of these days he’d figure out how to make them pay.

She stared at him for a minute. He met her gaze and didn’t flinch. He didn’t go so far as to let her see everything he was, but enough for her to judge his sincerity. Whatever she saw in his gaze seemed to convince her.

“Come back later, right before closing. The Jack will see you then.”

How the hell could she know that? He considered the possibility that she really was psychic. Dismissed it almost immediately. Still... “How do you know?”

“You said it’s an emergency.” As if that explained everything. She jerked her head at the bouncers and after a few grumbles, they melted back into the main bar area.

When she turned away to help another customer down the bar, Ash grabbed his drink and tossed back the rest of it. The whiskey burned on the way down, but he didn’t care. Couldn’t care.

He’d set something in motion tonight. Something big. He hadn’t done that in a very long time. It felt good.