Read Online Bought His Life by Aleka Nakis Tia Fanning - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Aleka Nakis Tia Fanning
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her mangled body, broken and bloody in a ditch sprang into his mind, and his stomach lurched at the thought.
Damn. He cared. It shouldn’t be that way, but it was.
His feelings for her didn’t make any sense. He’d only spoken to the woman twice, but they had a connection that was stronger than anything he’d ever experience. Like fate had intervened and brought them together.
Lawson walked into the bar, a dark, dingy place filled with smoke along with the foul odor of stale beer and unwashed bodies.
He spotted Kimber immediately—easy since she was the only woman in the place. And he wasn’t the only one to notice her female presence, either. Nothing but brutal-looking men—some at tables drinking, others playing billiards or darts, all of them casting lecherous gazes her way—occupied the joint.
Kimber sat at the bar, smoking a cigarette while some boisterous old man talked her ear off. With her back turned, she was completely oblivious to the attention she drew.
Stupid chit. She didn’t even bring her friend along—Bertha—like she said she would. Not that having another woman around would have made the situation any better.
He found a booth in a dark corner by the door. From there, he could keep an eye on her, and everyone else for that matter.
The bartender came around and took his order.
“Just a beer.”
Grunting a response, the overweight man left.
Moments later, the heavy front door creaked open, and two men entered. These men were different than the rest of the riffraff in the place. Dark hair with tanned skin, they were well dressed and carried themselves like Cosa Nostra.
The smaller one pulled a phone out and pressed a button. “ La encontramos .” We found her.
Since Kimber was the only female in the bar, there was no question who the thug was speaking about.
Shorty put the phone away and looked at his large friend, then nodded toward the door. “ La esperamos afuera .” We wait for her outside.
As they turned to leave, they spotted Lawson in the booth. The smaller one stopped and held his arm out to halt his partner. He looked Lawson up and down.
“¿ Habla español ?” Do you speak Spanish?
Lawson was fluent, but he wasn’t going to let them know that. He stared at them questioningly.
“Hey. Pendejo . Do you know Spanish or not?” the man demanded again in English.
Lawson let the asshole remark go. “No. I don’t. Sorry.”
The huge guy in black gestured toward Lawson’s hat. “ Te parece como un idiota con ese sombrero en la cabeza .” You look like an idiot with that hat on your head.
Lawson acted as if he didn’t understand the taunt. The two gangsters started laughing.
“My friend here, he says he likes your hat,” the smaller guy translated incorrectly.
“Thank you.”
His reply made them laugh all the harder. They left, still chuckling over what they believed was his ignorance.
When the front door closed, Lawson looked to Kimber. She was the one the gangster’s were waiting for, and they probably didn’t want her autograph.
What had she gotten herself into?
He took off his hat and settled deeper into his seat. Trouble was brewing, and it was only a matter of time before the pot bubbled over.
Chapter Eight
Kimber stubbed her cigarette in the ashtray and stared into her untouched glass of beer, wondering if her life was simply some huge cosmic joke. The whole day had been a bust.
First, she’d spent too much time at the Coast Guard Station for nothing. Seven interviews and not one person could verify that it was a plane that had appeared on the radar and not some space debris or something.
Then she’d run into that Lawson guy again. He had pissed her off royally, at least enough to make her want to kick his chauvinistic ass. Yet she couldn’t shake the small hope that she’d see him again. Why, she had no idea.
And to top off her crappy day, she was sitting on a creaky stool in some rundown hole-in-the-wall dockside bar,
Damn. He cared. It shouldn’t be that way, but it was.
His feelings for her didn’t make any sense. He’d only spoken to the woman twice, but they had a connection that was stronger than anything he’d ever experience. Like fate had intervened and brought them together.
Lawson walked into the bar, a dark, dingy place filled with smoke along with the foul odor of stale beer and unwashed bodies.
He spotted Kimber immediately—easy since she was the only woman in the place. And he wasn’t the only one to notice her female presence, either. Nothing but brutal-looking men—some at tables drinking, others playing billiards or darts, all of them casting lecherous gazes her way—occupied the joint.
Kimber sat at the bar, smoking a cigarette while some boisterous old man talked her ear off. With her back turned, she was completely oblivious to the attention she drew.
Stupid chit. She didn’t even bring her friend along—Bertha—like she said she would. Not that having another woman around would have made the situation any better.
He found a booth in a dark corner by the door. From there, he could keep an eye on her, and everyone else for that matter.
The bartender came around and took his order.
“Just a beer.”
Grunting a response, the overweight man left.
Moments later, the heavy front door creaked open, and two men entered. These men were different than the rest of the riffraff in the place. Dark hair with tanned skin, they were well dressed and carried themselves like Cosa Nostra.
The smaller one pulled a phone out and pressed a button. “ La encontramos .” We found her.
Since Kimber was the only female in the bar, there was no question who the thug was speaking about.
Shorty put the phone away and looked at his large friend, then nodded toward the door. “ La esperamos afuera .” We wait for her outside.
As they turned to leave, they spotted Lawson in the booth. The smaller one stopped and held his arm out to halt his partner. He looked Lawson up and down.
“¿ Habla español ?” Do you speak Spanish?
Lawson was fluent, but he wasn’t going to let them know that. He stared at them questioningly.
“Hey. Pendejo . Do you know Spanish or not?” the man demanded again in English.
Lawson let the asshole remark go. “No. I don’t. Sorry.”
The huge guy in black gestured toward Lawson’s hat. “ Te parece como un idiota con ese sombrero en la cabeza .” You look like an idiot with that hat on your head.
Lawson acted as if he didn’t understand the taunt. The two gangsters started laughing.
“My friend here, he says he likes your hat,” the smaller guy translated incorrectly.
“Thank you.”
His reply made them laugh all the harder. They left, still chuckling over what they believed was his ignorance.
When the front door closed, Lawson looked to Kimber. She was the one the gangster’s were waiting for, and they probably didn’t want her autograph.
What had she gotten herself into?
He took off his hat and settled deeper into his seat. Trouble was brewing, and it was only a matter of time before the pot bubbled over.
Chapter Eight
Kimber stubbed her cigarette in the ashtray and stared into her untouched glass of beer, wondering if her life was simply some huge cosmic joke. The whole day had been a bust.
First, she’d spent too much time at the Coast Guard Station for nothing. Seven interviews and not one person could verify that it was a plane that had appeared on the radar and not some space debris or something.
Then she’d run into that Lawson guy again. He had pissed her off royally, at least enough to make her want to kick his chauvinistic ass. Yet she couldn’t shake the small hope that she’d see him again. Why, she had no idea.
And to top off her crappy day, she was sitting on a creaky stool in some rundown hole-in-the-wall dockside bar,
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