Thirty Below. Harry Groome
drew a deep breath and told herself to keep her head about her and not do anything stupid, to keep it all in order and go slow. She took another deep breath and wondered how this gorgeous stranger was making out with the odd-sounding drinks. As she turned to look he was walking toward her with an easy swagger, and she thought he was built just like her—big hands and feet, narrow hips and broad shoulders—but on him it looked right. Better than right. When Bart saw her looking at him he smiled and she thought it was a friendly smile, not a smile filled with lechery like so many other smiles she’d seen so many times in this bar, and she relaxed a bit.
And then she saw him. She felt a tightness in her chest and her breath came in warm, heavy bursts. Jake Hornbeck was following Bart. He was smiling the smile that she knew led to trouble. He wouldn’t try anything in public or would he? Wasn’t he worried about the cops?
Bart slid a glass in front of her and sat. Carrie forced a smile and coughed out, “Bart, do you know this guy?”
“What guy?”
She lowered her voice. “The guy behind you, with the bandage above his eye.”
Bart looked over his shoulder, but before he could answer, Jake said, “Well, if it isn’t the fickle Carrie Ritter and her internet ticket to Nowheresville, Alaska.”
“Go away,” Carrie said, “Please.” She looked at Bart for help, but he didn’t move, his big hands wrapped around his glass, his emotionless stare fixed on the table.
“Go away? Up until today you couldn’t get enough of me, or don’t you remember?” He placed a hand on Bart’s shoulder. “Maybe it’s because I can’t take you away from it all like this poor sucker.”
Carrie knew at that instant that she should have called the police and prayed that Bart would somehow help her. But she thought there was no reason for him to do anything, that she was nothing more than a stranger whom he’d met through the internet, and she mustered all the courage she could and looked up at Jake and forced herself to focus on his narrow-set, dark eyes. “Enough’s enough, Jake. It’s over.”
Jake shook his head, his eyes filled with the same wild, animal-like look they’d had in her bathroom that morning. “It’s not going to be that easy.”
Without looking up, or turning to face him, Bart said quietly, “Please, let the lady alone.”
“Please, let the lady alone?” Jake looked at Carrie. “Who is this guy? Mister Manners?”
Carrie had no idea how to answer. Or even if she should. She looked to the gorgeous man seated close to her for help, but all she saw was a stranger and realized how alone she was, and a chill ran through her.
Bart raised his eyes to her and smiled a comforting smile. He looked over his shoulder at Jake and then beckoned to the bouncer. “Okay. Let’s skip the formalities. Time’s up. Leave the lady alone.”
When Bart spoke, people at the nearby tables stopped talking and stared at Jake and him. Two women seated at the table nearest them picked up their drinks, pushed their stools back and moved away. Carrie held her glass so tightly to stop her hands from shaking that she thought she’d break it, but all she could think of at that moment was how nice ‘leave the lady alone’ sounded when Jake said, “Shove it up your ass.”
Carrie watched Jake’s Death Before Dishonor tattoo swell with each rhythmic flex of his biceps and thought of his super-human strength. Suddenly she didn’t want to be in this singles bar causing this handsome stranger to be hurt because she never could get things right. Her plan to change her life already was headed in the wrong direction and as usual Hannah had been right, she should have stayed home and gotten her emotional shit together for she could feel things were unraveling at a rapid pace and, once again, she was losing control.
“It’ll take a bigger man than you to do that,” he said. “But not tonight.”
With that, Jake wrapped his arms around Bart’s neck and jerked him from his stool, sending it crashing to the floor, the bar going quiet, except for a series of scraping sounds as people pushed their stools from their tables and hurried away.
“Jake, no!” Carrie yelled.
Jake glanced at her and pulled Bart’s head down to his hip. Bart’s face turned red and the vein in his temple thickened. “So this is the pussy you ditched—”
But Jake never got to finish. A man more than a half-a-foot taller than him with a large, shiny shaved head and a baseball bat grabbed him by the ear and pushed the bat under his nose. “Hit the road, pal,” the man said. “You want to fight, join the Marines.”
Jake let go of Bart and took a step back. He sized up the bouncer and his baseball bat and raised his hands above his shoulders. “You win this one, fat boy,” he said, and then looked at Carrie. “But we’re not through. No one gets away with shit like this with Jake Hornbeck.” And then, as suddenly as he had appeared, he pushed through the crowded bar and out on to the street and was gone.
Bart rolled his head and stretched his neck. He smiled and lifted his glass toward the bouncer and thanked him for his help.
“Comes with the territory,” the bouncer said. He tapped Bart on the shoulder with his bat and nodded at Carrie. “But you two be careful. I’ve seen a lot of rotten apples in this job and something tells me that guy’s trouble. Real trouble.”
They sat without speaking as though they were weighing the bouncer’s comments. Carrie was very much aware of the stares of others in the bar and hurried to finish her drink, thinking she had to get free from all of this, that once again she’d made a terrible mistake.
Once outside Bart put his arm around her and led her to the path along the beach and asked, “What was that all about?”
“You don’t really want to know,” she said.
Bart nodded and took his arm from her waist, and she wished he hadn’t although she couldn’t tell if it was because she was frightened by Jake and needed someone to help keep her together, or if there was something special about Bart’s touch. Either way, she missed the feeling and asked him if he’d mind putting his arm around her for a little while longer. She couldn’t believe what she’d just said and felt her face flush with embarrassment and the warm push of gin and peach vodka from the strange Alaskan drink and quickly added, “I’m a bit shaky right now.”
Bart smiled and slipped his arm around her and they walked in silence watching the waves of the Pacific break and spill over the sand. Finally, Bart asked again, “Who was that guy?”
Carrie bit her upper lip and looked at Bart. “He’s just a guy I used to date and we’ve had a pretty rough falling out.”
“Got that, but how’d he know about me? About Alaska?”
Carrie took Bart’s arm in her hand, held it tightly and drew a deep breath. She didn’t want to start off their relationship with a lie; after what she’d just put him through she felt she owed him the truth. “I used you as an excuse to break up with him. He scared me so; I didn’t know what else to do.” She paused and pleaded for him to understand. “I’m sorry. Really, really sorry. I never thought it would get you—”
“It’s okay,” he said, and pulled her closer against him. “They all end up like that?”
“No,” Carrie said, and laughed a little laugh of relief because they were moving away from Jake, and stammered, “Well … yes … sometimes … but no … never that bad.” She tried to get the spotlight off herself by asking, “What about you? How do yours end up?”
“They tend to start well but something always seems to go wrong.”
“Like what?” Carrie asked.
“I’m too much of a loner for most women.” Bart looked away from her. “That and some other stuff cost me a marriage.”
Carrie tried to appear as unfazed as possible as she asked, “You’re divorced?”