Of course, the real problem was more Hammerhead than the law. Not that the guys had any moral qualms about some slut getting what was coming to her, but a member drawing heat due to repeated sexual assault charges wasn’t particularly good for business, and Billy was already semi in the shit for just that reason. His orders were to keep a low profile following his release—stay clear of the gang, stay out of trouble, head back to Seattle when the weekly meetings with the state-appointed therapist were done and he was no longer being watched so closely.
But shit, the way he liked to play it, who would ever even know? He almost never needed to threaten, and only twice had he had to resort to the hunting knife he kept in a leather sheath attached to his belt. No, he knew how to do it right. Get the chick alone, start to get rough with her, and then, when she tried to stop him, accuse her of leading him on. His size and sudden anger always scared them, threw them off balance, chilled them right out. Yeah, this hot little Asian chick would give it up. Even persuade herself it was her decision, or at least her fault. And she’d know no one would believe her if she tried to claim otherwise.
He gestured to her nearly empty glass. “Like another?”
She shook her head. “Three’s my limit. Especially after a workout.” She smiled shyly, as though confessing something shameful. “I’m such a lightweight. I think I’ve already had too much. But you go ahead, if you want.”
He did want. He did indeed.
He nodded to Ray, then pointed at his empty glass. Ray picked up the Bulleit bottle and strolled over. “You guys good?” he said as he refilled the glass to three fingers. One of the benefits of being a regular—Ray didn’t stint on the refills.
“No more for me,” the Asian chick said.
Ray nodded. “Last call in fifteen. Just so you know.”
Billy watched Ray stroll away, then raised his glass to the Asian chick and said, “Here’s to life’s little pleasures.” He tossed the whole thing back, tilting his chin up to ease the whiskey’s passage. He set the glass back on the bar and closed his eyes, just savoring the moment. Damn, he loved good bourbon. One of the things he’d missed in the joint. One of many.
When he opened his eyes, the Asian chick stretched her arms back, and oh, man, that little rack wasn’t so little after all, was it? “Well,” she said, reaching down to the foot of the barstool and retrieving her backpack, “I should get going—that interview in the morning.”
Billy looked her up and down, not caring what she made of it. Damn, she really was a hot little slut. It wasn’t just the bourbon. He’d wanted her the moment he’d caught her eye as she walked in. And she was drunk now, and they were going to walk out together, and if she was carrying a backpack, especially a big one like that, it probably meant she’d arrived on foot—otherwise, she would have left her gear in the car. It was all working out so perfectly, it was almost too good to be true.
“Yeah, getting late for me, too.” He stood and dropped a couple of twenties on the bar, then slipped her sweatshirt off the back of her barstool. “Here, let me get that for you.”
“You don’t have to—”
“No problem,” he said with a smile. “No problem at all.”
Billy led the way, holding the door for her, letting his gaze slide down past the backpack she had slung over a shoulder, admiring her ass as she squeezed by. He waved a goodnight to Ray, who nodded in return, his face impassive, probably knowing what Billy was up to, but also knowing it was none of his business.
A moment later, they were out on the sidewalk, the door swinging shut behind them with a slowly dying squeak, the music from the jukebox suddenly muted. The warmth of the spring evening had died away, and the late-night air was cool and slightly moist. A half moon hung low in the sky, its edges softened by mist. On one side of the bar was a pawnshop, its interior dark behind barred windows. Opposite, what was once a parking lot, now fenced off and colonized by weeds. Other than the sound of distant eighteen-wheelers on the interstate and a few crickets, the area was silent. Billy nodded, liking the whole lonely vibe, just the two of them at last.
“Where are you parked?” he asked.
The Asian chick glanced at her sweatshirt, as though she wanted it back but was afraid to ask. Billy liked that.
“I’m not. I walked from my workout.”
Just like he’d thought. Perfect.
“You’re walking home, then?”
“That’s the plan, but—”
“I’ll walk you. Neighborhood’s not safe this time of night.”
“Look, you really don’t have to—”
“Hey, I insist,” he said, some edge in his tone, letting her know he’d be insulted if she refused his offer. “You just point the way.”
The Asian chick hesitated for a moment, clearly unsure of how to handle this. “It’s just a dump on the other side of the park. I’ve barely moved in, the place is a mess . . .”
“Well, hell,” Billy said with a good-natured laugh he knew would put her at ease. “I wasn’t expecting you to invite me in. I’ll just see you to the door and say goodnight.”
Nothing to argue with in any of that, was there? And sure enough, after a moment, the Asian chick nodded and said, “All right, then. Thank you. The park is going to be kind of dark at this hour.”