Chapitre 21: Let the Games Begin
She walked into Jake's. Typical bars were relatively quiet at 5:30 on a Wednesday, but for a police officer, days didn't matter, and time wasn't a factor. Every day was just a day. There were no such things as holidays, snow days, mental health days, or Monday-Sunday. They are all the same. As far as time goes, your morning could be someone's night, and someone's afternoon could be another's morning. Time is irrelevant. You put in your 8 or 12 hours, and then you're left to live what little life you have left.
She was about ten steps into the bar when she heard her name.
"Kingston!" A sexy voice with a Latin accent called her name.
"She'll settle this," he said to the guy beside him.
She made her way over to the general direction of the voice. It was busy, but it wasn't packed. She saw him, Alex Alvarez; they hadn't had an actual conversation in well over a year. It was always short comments and long glances at each other's asses.
She also hadn't seen him out of uniform in forever.
She thought he still looked fantastic—even better than when they were together if that is humanly possible.
His tight black shirt was stressed across his broad chest. The short sleeves hugged his biceps tightly. His waist looked more tapered than she had remembered. It was hard to tell when he was in uniform with his vest and duty belt on.
"Alex, I just walked in. I'm sober, and I haven't had the best day," she said. "Is this important?"
"Well, Martino over here said that men are better shots than women because it's a biological fact that men have better eyesight. Tell him he's wrong."
"Martino," she said.
"Here it comes," Alex said excitedly.
"You're not wrong."
NO SHIT! Malibu had popped up behind her.
No shit! Alex exclaimed.
"Women are better with discriminating colors; that's why a woman can say something is lavender, but a guy says it's purple. Men are better at tracking fast-moving objects and details from a distance."
So, by that, rational guys make better spotters.
"All spotters are men unless things have progressed more since I left. Considering when I left, there were only three female Recon Snipers, I'm pretty sure it's safe to assume all of you guys are still guys."
"But Martino, I could kick your ass anytime, anyplace, under any conditions—accuracy, precision, and distance. Name the time and the place. Just make sure there is a target no closer than 700 meters out."
"Right. I can make 425 meters with a rifle. I am an excellent hunter. 700 is bullshit. No way you could do that."
"Yeah, I would have to be like an expert sniper. Like a woman could be one of those," she said. She winked at Alex.
"I need booze. Lots and lots of booze," she said.
She walked off to the bar.
"Dude, do you think she's serious about the shot?" Martino asked.
"Why don't you nut up and find out," Alex said.
He watched her walk off. "God, she's so fucking hot."
"Didn't you get enough of her in the past? Need I remind you of your past?" Martino asked.
"Martino, if you knew her as I have known her, you wouldn't question neither my lust nor my loyalty."
Dean saw her walk in. His stomach had dropped when he saw her. She was out of her dress clothes, but she still looked absolutely stunning, even in her jeans and t-shirt.
He watched her make her way through the crowd. Someone had called her name, and she didn't have time to look around, so she didn't see him sitting in the last booth, his back to the crowd, looking out the front window, where he could see the reflection of the entire bar.
He didn't know she was going to be there. He would have just gone home to get drunk if he had known. Honestly, he thought she would be at Muldoon's. He already had a dozen shots of Grey Goose and ten beers. He hadn't been this drunk in a long time.
He was scrolling through his phone, thinking of texting Bruss, but decided against it. He had come to Jake's to drink away his frustration and try to get her out of his mind.
Allie took a seat at the bar and ordered three shots of tequila and a Bud Lite Platinum.
"Hard day, Sandra?" Liz, the bartender, asked.
God, she hated it when she called her Sandra. She had repeatedly told her not to call her that, but she did anyway. So, she finally realized no matter how many times she said something, it would fall on deaf ears.
"You have no idea, Liz. No idea. Keep them coming till I'm tanked."
"Well, the next beer is on me."
Can you even get tanked?
"I can get forgetful. I'm locked and loaded."
Locked and loaded?
"I'm going to lock you out by getting loaded."
"Thanks, Liz. Hey, who's drinking water tonight?"
"In this crowd, Murphy, Marcus, Crosby, and Alvarez," she said.
"I'm going to need a ride. I got my car. This is not where I thought my night would end."
"I'm sure you can talk one of them into driving you home. You might not even have to ask."
Liz gave her a wink and laughed.
Allie drank half her beer, two shots, and the rest of her beer.
"Set it up again, Liz," she said.
"I got you."
"You are going to need a ride home, beautiful." Alex had slid into the seat next to her.
Liz put her next round down and smiled at him. "How's your night going?" she asked.
"I'll let you know in the morning," he said as he looked at Allie's profile.
Allie did two shots and chased it.
"I think you better slow down," he said.
"Alex, unless you are my thong, get out of my ass."
"Alexsandra Kingston, I would be honored to be your thong."
She drank two more shots and a chaser. She was starting to feel the tequila kick in.
"Would you now?" she asked.
"You have absolutely no idea," he said with a sly smile
She finished her shots, and he bought her a beer.
"Did you have a bad day, Detective?"
She held three fingers up to Liz and nodded back at her.
"Alex, I've had a disturbing day. I'm pretty sure I walked through hell."
Liz put her shots down. She drank them one after another.
"I can take you to heaven, Alexsandra. All you have to do is give me the chance."
Holy fuck. That was so damn smooth!
"Shouldn't you be gone by now?"
Did you ever think I was here to keep you from making one of your famous bad decisions?
She gave him an angry look.
"Wow, was that for me?" Alex asked.
"No. I just had a flashback. I want to play darts," Allie said. "Cum with me." She teased.
"You're killing me, girl."
She took him by the front of his T-shirt and pulled him along.
"I'll give you mouth to mouth. You'll survive," Allie said.
"Dear Lord, please kill me now. Please." Alex joked as he trailed behind Allie, looking intently at her ass.
They made their way to the boards, where they split into teams: Allie and Alex vs. Martino and Pistone.
"Who's up first?" Alvarez asked.
"How about Miss Precision and Accuracy?" Martino said.
"What are the stakes? I don't like to play just for fun," she said.
"You're such a big talker. $200, play till a 700. Since you're so good at shooting at 700."
"Dude, don't count me in. That's way too rich for my blood," Pistone said.
"How about you, Alvarez? How confident are you in your girl here?"
"I'll put my money on her. I have a good feeling she's going to kick your ass."
A dozen guys came forward to put their money on Martino. Martino was the favorite; they all knew he was a better-than-average player and captain of his dart team.
Alex made the same comment to each person who backed Martino. "You're backing the wrong horse."
"Alright, ladies first," Pistone said.
"You heard him, Martino, you're up," Allie said.
"BURN!" yelled someone from the back of the crowd.
"Haha, very funny. We'll see who is laughing when you have to get more cash out of the ATM to pay off your losses," he said.
"Shoot the fucking dart Martino," she said.
He stepped to the line and threw his first dart, single 18. He high-fived the guys around him. He threw the next double ring 15. More celebratory high fives. Last dart, single 19. Pistone wrote down a total of 67.
"67, that's not a bad start," she said. "I hope I can do that well."
She stepped up to the line. She turned to Alex. "You have faith in me?"
"You are my Goddess. I have faith in you."
She smiled. "What do you want me to hit first?" she asked him.
"You want me to call your shot?" he asked. "Of course, a bull would be great, but how about..."
"Nope, a bull is just fine."
She rolled her neck and aimed. The dart left her hand and hit the board hard. The room fell silent. Smack in the middle, double-point bull, 50 points.
"Next? And give me some variety. I want to hit something besides bulls all night. I enjoy a little variety."
She looked at Alex and raised an eyebrow.
"Triple 20!" Martino said.
She took a stance, aimed, and fired off the dart. Direct hit. Next was triple 16. Martino couldn't do anything but stand there, slack-jawed. The place was silent; only the sound of the jukebox hung in the air.
"Holy shit," Pistone said. "Who the hell are you?"
"It's your up, Martino," she said.
Dean didn't know he would see her, but he did want to clarify what happened that day, smooth things over, and tell her he knew she didn't need rescuing. It was just a reflexive response. He was taught never to disrespect a lady and never to let anyone get away with it.
After their night together, he felt more protective of her. After the night in his truck, he knew his heart belonged to her. He has thought about her every day since then.
Now here she was, throwing back shots and kicking some guy's ass in a game of high-stakes darts. She looked beautiful in her T-shirt, jeans, and ponytail, long and swaying when she moved. Her smile was more intoxicating than the shots he was ingesting.
The game went quickly. Even with Allie taking more shots and drinking a couple more beers, she was on point. She hit almost every number that was called out. Including six double bulls. She wiped the floor with Martino.
She never celebrated, no high fives when she made a shot, no throwing her arms in the air and letting out a victory scream. Whenever she hit her target, she never felt successful; she was doing what was asked of her.
It's like she was on top of a building in some dusty country, and Alvarez was her spotter.
"Murphy is doing water tonight if you need a ride to the ATM. I prefer 20′s," she said. "Alvarez, on the other hand, is all mine."
She turned, walked back to the bar, and sat on her stool. She ordered four more shots and a beer.
The bar erupted in conversation. Alex did a little victory lap, collecting all the losing bets.
"I told you. You should have listened to me. I know her better than any of you. You should have trusted my judgment," he said, plucking the money out of people's hands.
Maybe I should talk to her or head back down the hallway to the bathrooms. She would undoubtedly see me. But what if she sees me and ignores me? I'm pretty sure she will ignore me. I should go, Dean thought.
The game was over. She won 700 points to 482. He watched her friend gather the cash from those who bet against her and join her at the bar.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone