Read Online Tex (Burnout) by Dahlia West - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Dahlia West
Tags: Romance
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back to the bar Maria said, “Vegas, are you gonna beat the shit outta every man in my bar?”
Abby turned to the older woman. “Well, hell, Maria, seeing as how I can’t get a goddamn martini in this place I just figured we were so far off the beaten path that we no longer had to follow the rules of polite society.”
Maria grinned and refilled Abby’s gin. “Smartass,” said the blonde to the redhead.
Abby picked up her drink and Tex put a hand on her shoulder. “Are you alright?” he asked.
Abby smirked at him. “Well, I wasn’t the one on the floor so I’d say yeah.”
“Come on,” he said, grabbing her hand and tugging her behind him.
“Where are we going?”
“To my table where I can keep an eye on you.”
Abby took a seat next to him at the table with Easy on her other side. Tex looked down at her feet. “So those are the infamous Jimmy Choos, huh?”
Abby followed his gaze. “Well, last season is the only way I can afford a pair, but yeah.”
Tex smiled. “Last season or not, they make your ass look amazing.”
Abby’s mouth dropped open, but before she could say anything Slick came hurrying over. “Oh, my God! Abby are you okay?”
Abby turned to the slightly older but shorter woman and laughed. “Yeah, Slick, I’m fine.”
“Are you sure? You punched out a guy!”
Abby smiled and shook her head. “It’s fine, Slick. I’m not just Vegas. I’m Old Vegas. Third generation. Where people go for a ride into the desert and don’t come back.”
Slick’s eyes widened. “Really?”
“Yes, now tell Maria to buy some goddamn vermouth and some olives so I can have a proper drink before I shoot up the place.”
Slick grinned at her. “Will do.”
Abby settled back into her chair.
“Are you in the mafia?” Easy asked her and Tex rolled his eyes.
Abby gave him a sidelong glance. “Yes, because the mafia, unlike the Army Rangers, promotes women into their ranks and lets them wear high heels while they pack revolvers in their designer handbags.”
Hawk and Shooter laughed.
“Was your dad in the mafia?” Easy persisted.
“My dad was a mechanic.”
“That’s another word for hitman,” Easy pointed out.
Abby sighed. “Jesus, I thought I watched too many movies.”
Tex smiled. “You don’t have a TV, Vegas.”
She shrugged. “Well, when I get one, I’m buying a lot of movies. Casablanca, The Maltese Falcon, Gilda, Chinatown. All the classics. But right now I need a kitchen table and crank shaft.”
Easy perked up. “I’ve got a shaft-”
“Stow it,” Tex commanded and Easy sank back down in his chair.
Abby took a slug of her gin. “Please tell me I wasn’t the highlight of this evening’s entertainment. Is there a band or something?”
“No band,” said Hawk. “Just a jukebox.”
Abby eyed it skeptically. “Any Frank?”
“Frank?” Easy asked.
“She means Sinatra,” Tex declared.
“I don’t think so,” Easy told her.
Abby sighed. “No martinis, no Frank, no band. I’m beginning to miss the Strip.”
“What?” asked Easy. “You miss strippers?”
Abby laughed. “Strip. The Strip.”
“Oh. You know any strippers?”
Abby sipped her gin. “I know a lot of everybody.”
Slick arrived with a glass and set it down in front of Abby. “Here you go, Vegas,” she said proudly.
Abby looked down and gasped. “Olives!”
“I snagged them from the kitchen. I don’t know what a good substitute for Vermouth is, though.”
Abby wrinkled her nose. “Ugh, don’t try. I got desperate once and used white wine. Disaster. Thanks, Slick.”
“No problem, hon.”
“You drink a lot,” Easy observed.
“Don’t judge me,” Abby replied.
“I’m just saying.”
“Whatever, how many beers are you on?” she asked. When he didn’t reply she
Abby turned to the older woman. “Well, hell, Maria, seeing as how I can’t get a goddamn martini in this place I just figured we were so far off the beaten path that we no longer had to follow the rules of polite society.”
Maria grinned and refilled Abby’s gin. “Smartass,” said the blonde to the redhead.
Abby picked up her drink and Tex put a hand on her shoulder. “Are you alright?” he asked.
Abby smirked at him. “Well, I wasn’t the one on the floor so I’d say yeah.”
“Come on,” he said, grabbing her hand and tugging her behind him.
“Where are we going?”
“To my table where I can keep an eye on you.”
Abby took a seat next to him at the table with Easy on her other side. Tex looked down at her feet. “So those are the infamous Jimmy Choos, huh?”
Abby followed his gaze. “Well, last season is the only way I can afford a pair, but yeah.”
Tex smiled. “Last season or not, they make your ass look amazing.”
Abby’s mouth dropped open, but before she could say anything Slick came hurrying over. “Oh, my God! Abby are you okay?”
Abby turned to the slightly older but shorter woman and laughed. “Yeah, Slick, I’m fine.”
“Are you sure? You punched out a guy!”
Abby smiled and shook her head. “It’s fine, Slick. I’m not just Vegas. I’m Old Vegas. Third generation. Where people go for a ride into the desert and don’t come back.”
Slick’s eyes widened. “Really?”
“Yes, now tell Maria to buy some goddamn vermouth and some olives so I can have a proper drink before I shoot up the place.”
Slick grinned at her. “Will do.”
Abby settled back into her chair.
“Are you in the mafia?” Easy asked her and Tex rolled his eyes.
Abby gave him a sidelong glance. “Yes, because the mafia, unlike the Army Rangers, promotes women into their ranks and lets them wear high heels while they pack revolvers in their designer handbags.”
Hawk and Shooter laughed.
“Was your dad in the mafia?” Easy persisted.
“My dad was a mechanic.”
“That’s another word for hitman,” Easy pointed out.
Abby sighed. “Jesus, I thought I watched too many movies.”
Tex smiled. “You don’t have a TV, Vegas.”
She shrugged. “Well, when I get one, I’m buying a lot of movies. Casablanca, The Maltese Falcon, Gilda, Chinatown. All the classics. But right now I need a kitchen table and crank shaft.”
Easy perked up. “I’ve got a shaft-”
“Stow it,” Tex commanded and Easy sank back down in his chair.
Abby took a slug of her gin. “Please tell me I wasn’t the highlight of this evening’s entertainment. Is there a band or something?”
“No band,” said Hawk. “Just a jukebox.”
Abby eyed it skeptically. “Any Frank?”
“Frank?” Easy asked.
“She means Sinatra,” Tex declared.
“I don’t think so,” Easy told her.
Abby sighed. “No martinis, no Frank, no band. I’m beginning to miss the Strip.”
“What?” asked Easy. “You miss strippers?”
Abby laughed. “Strip. The Strip.”
“Oh. You know any strippers?”
Abby sipped her gin. “I know a lot of everybody.”
Slick arrived with a glass and set it down in front of Abby. “Here you go, Vegas,” she said proudly.
Abby looked down and gasped. “Olives!”
“I snagged them from the kitchen. I don’t know what a good substitute for Vermouth is, though.”
Abby wrinkled her nose. “Ugh, don’t try. I got desperate once and used white wine. Disaster. Thanks, Slick.”
“No problem, hon.”
“You drink a lot,” Easy observed.
“Don’t judge me,” Abby replied.
“I’m just saying.”
“Whatever, how many beers are you on?” she asked. When he didn’t reply she
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