A Cold Blooded Rain (Chapters 1-4)

A Cold Blooded Rain - Chapter 2

The young woman's slate-blue eyes locked onto mine with a cool,unwavering stare as she approached. She held a smoldering gaze that dared me to try and look away. Any other sap unfortunate enough to catch sight of her would've been wise to run if only to save his own skin.

Her soft black hair was long, pinned back on one side with a brooch just above her left ear. The rest cascaded down the other side of her pretty, sharp-featured face. She carried a small, black leather clutch in her hand. A dark-gray, fur stole hung around her shoulders—the dead animal's skin on display as though it was her latest trophy kill.A tight, black dress sheathed her petite body, barely rippling. Dark,pin-striped stockings clung to her legs. Her black Oxford heels clicked on the hardwood floors in a slow rhythm as she came closer.

Within moments, she was standing in front of me with a hand on her hip. Her face showed little expression until a slow grin spread across her red-painted lips."Bowie do this to you?" she asked in a low, raspy voice.

Her eyes never left mine as I downed my shot of bourbon. I tried to look indifferent as I set the glass back down on the bar. "What's it to you?"

She shrugged her shoulders and took a step closer. "Absolutely nothing. Only, I would've loved to have watched."

I sighed. "I bet you would have."

She smiled impishly and looked me head to toe. "Max, Max," she cooed with twisted delight. "One of these days, you're gonna get yourself into some real trouble."She then leaned in close and spoke in my ear, her voice almost a whisper. "And I'm going to be there to see it." Her perfume tickled my nose with cherry blossoms and a hint of cinnamon. The scent, together with her words, sent an involuntary shudder coursing through my body. It wasn't entirely unpleasant.

Using her index finger, she lightly traced several small circles on the top of my bandaged hand.It almost hurt. She then dragged her finger midway up my arm, causing another shudder. She took a step back and eyed me coyly for a moment,savoring the unsettled expression on my face. I knew she was well aware of just how uncomfortable she was making me.

But then, after half a heartbeat,she broke down into a cute and playful laugh. With the flick of a switch, the seductive temptress disappeared. In her place, the spirited young girl I knew too well stood giggling at me.

"You dumbass," she said.

I grinned. "Nice to see you too,Molly."

Molly Mitchell, one of the other bartenders at Sam's, was about to start her late-night shift. I knew from experience that the sultry and provocative vixen persona was only a front she put on to hook new customers into becoming regulars.The only problem was, she was good at it, and she knew it. Sam knew it too. Hiring her was a smart move.

The truth was, Molly was just a twenty-something-year-old kid, working at Sam's to help pay her way through nursing school. She was spunky, cheerful—with a tendency to swear like a sailor—and always eager to meet new people and make new friends. But while she was lively and outgoing, I was the complete opposite. That never stopped us from becoming good pals.

The talk among the other regulars suggested that Lila was my favorite bartender. If that was true, thenMolly was a close second. There was a distinct difference between the two, however. If Lila had singled me out for extra special attention,Molly had singled damn near everyone out.

"Bowie think you're screwing around with Lila again?" she asked as she headed back behind the bar to stash her belongings and clock on.

"Something like that."

She smiled. "Uh-huh."

Sam reappeared from the back with my clothes in hand. He greeted Molly as he approached and laid my things on the bar. "Here you go, son," he said to me. I thanked him as I slid an arm into one of the sleeves of my shirt. It was painful, my arms and back shrieking in protest, but I managed to slip it on. I fumbled with the buttons, unable to use my bandaged hand.

Molly came back around to my side of the bar and began fastening the buttons for me. "Well, I guess the fun's over," she said, disappointed. Then, with a flash of her eyes, her inner vixen reappeared. "I'd much rather see you sitting here in your boxers." Fastening the lowest button, just below my waistline, she threw me a grin that made me flush. I cleared my throat and fought off another shudder. Molly stifled a laugh as I stood up from my seat. "Oh, I'm sorry. Am I making you uncomfortable?" she asked demurely, already knowing the answer.

"Sure as hell are," I replied and grabbed my trousers. As I tried to get a leg into them, I almost fell over.

"Here,"Molly said with a laugh and held my arm to steady me. It was a battle of wits, but I soon had my pants on, making it a point to fasten the zipper myself.

Sam stood by and said nothing. His expression, a mix of concern and amusement, told me everything—I was a sorry sight to behold. Molly brought over the rest of my things and held my hat and raincoat while I finished getting dressed.

Sam gestured to me from where he stood behind the counter. "Let's get you a cab."

I shook my head. "I'll walk. I could use the fresh air." Sam then threw me a skeptical look,probably guessing that I needed a walk to sober up. "I'm okay,really. I'll be fine," I added. I took my hat and coat from Molly and turned to leave. At that moment, all the vidmonitors in the building flickered back to life. The screens and the different channels that each showed caught our attentions. It appeared the block signal was back up and running.

"Well,that's good news," Sam said, pleased.

I turned and faced them both."Thanks, you two. I'm going home. I can't wait to forget about tonight."

Molly laughed. "Like I'm going to let that happen."

"I know, I know. If I-" My thoughts froze in mid-sentence and I stopped short. My attention suddenly became glued to one of the monitors hanging above the main bar. Set to a news channel, it was streaming some current, breaking story.

There was a frenzy of activity in the live footage. Police officers moved in and around an area cordoned off by yellow tape. The words that ran along the bottom of the screen lit up in my brain like muzzle-flash. Such words always did. They were the type of words that no one ever wanted to see or hear. For some sick and twisted reason, though, they drew us in like moths to a flame. Or maybe it was just me.

I had seen such words before. Many times, in fact. It was a different time and a different place, but the words were nearly always the same. The only difference was they hit much harder than they used to.I had my reasons, after all. As I stood there staring up at them, avoid grew somewhere deep within me. Old wounds ripped open. I took one feeble step closer to the bar, my eyes fixed on the words that blazed across the screen: WOMAN FOUND MURDERED.