Kane opened the door to a wave of thick white smoke, the stench of stale grease, and Ted Nugent wailing from an ancient jukebox in the corner. He stood just inside the door and let his eyes adjust to the scene.
Even with his enhanced vision, it still took a second to get used to the haze and dim interior of the bar—although, he used the term bar loosely.
It technically qualified because of the long serving bar along the back wall with the various tequilas, vodkas, and Scotches filling the shelves behind it. The layer of grime and stench in this place would only draw drunks and skanks—which were plentiful in this town, from what he’d seen so far.
He crossed the room and took the only available stool at the bar. He lifted his hand to the bartender, who eventually ambled over.
“What can I get ya?”
“Scotch, neat.” He figured it would be the safest thing to order in a place like this.
Hell, when did I become such a snob?
While he waited for his drink, he looked in the mirror on the wall behind the liquor to observe the men lined up at the bar on either side of him. Men of various ages in different degrees of grubby wear, but no one really stood out. He tried to catch the gaze of each and every one of them, looking for someone who might be willing to talk to him.
The bartender returned and slid a drink in front of him. “Anything else I can get ya? You want a menu?”
“No thanks, I’m just here waiting on someone.” That nugget of information seemed to perk up the man’s attention. His eyes glinted in the dim light and his head tilted toward Kane in apparent curiosity.
“Who you waitin’ for? I know just ’bout everyone who comes in here.”
“I’m waiting for a woman.”
The bartender snorted before his face split into a big grin, revealing broken and yellowed teeth. Kane imagined the fights that broke out in this kind of place would eventually lead to a man’s teeth being damaged and more. “Not a lot of women come in here.”
“Oh yeah, why’s that?” The guy’s smirk aggravated him. Either that or this hunt was beginning to wear thin.
“Not a lot of women come in here on account of Twin Peaks next door. They either go over there to pick up the men getting horny watching the girls dance, or they don’t come within five miles of the place because they don’t want to be caught dead near a titty bar.”
Kane laughed at the statement he understood all too well. He’d spent his fair share of time in those bars, and more. He’d even let his brother Malcolm drag him to a few fetish clubs when they were younger. Some of those clubs would be considered high class compared to this one; so yes, he could well imagine not a lot of women wanting to come near the place.
“I get your point.” He took a swallow of his drink and allowed the slow burn in his throat and belly to comfort him. The liquor wasn’t quite as smooth as he liked it, but he couldn’t complain. It would get the job done.
“So this girl of yours, she got a name?”
“Yeah, she does. It’s Lara. I haven’t seen her in a few weeks, and I’m looking forward to catching up.”
The bartender winked knowingly at him. He had no idea. Kane wanted to find her so he could kill her and go back home, and maybe then he could get her out of his head. Plus, it was never good for an Enforcer to stay gone so long. If word got out that the clan wasn’t as protected, it could leave them open to attack or, at the very least, harassment from neighboring clans.
Before he could continue his conversation with the idiot behind the bar, a man stumbled through the door, yanking Kane’s attention in that direction. He was obviously drunk off his ass, but it wasn’t his state of inebriation that had Kane on edge—it was his scent. The man reeked all the way across the room, and the smell had Kane seeing red as he gripped the wooden edge of the bar to keep himself from ripping out the stranger’s throat.
He was covered in the woman’s scent. Lara. A low growl rumbled in his throat and the bartender shot him a questioning glance. Kane turned away from the door and ground his teeth to hold in the anger. Fur rippled along his skin and his fingers underneath the lip of the bar edge partially shifted to paws and claws as he scraped into the wood.
