Dark Temptation (Dark Saints MC Book 2)(2)

I unloaded my gear in the corner Inez had assigned to my project.

She explained that she’d answer any questions I had, but she wasn’t going to lift anything. Her back, she said.

“Here’s a key. I don’t stay after 4 p.m. That’s my agreement with the library. If you want to stay late, it’s up to you. Just lock it up tight.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“You can call me Inez. Ma’am seems old. I mean I am old. But Inez.”

“Thank you, Inez.”

It had been ten years since my Daddy had died in the line of duty. He was a hero. He’d stopped the bad guys but took a bullet in the process.

I didn’t know exactly how a person should go about bringing down The Dark Saints, but I would figure it out.

I was a quick learner.

Woody’s Lounge, across the street, would be my first stop. I had been told that was where a lot of Saints hung out. I’d play the unaware newcomer to town and wander into their lair.

From there I’d take it one Saint at a time.



Woody’s Lounge was a dive bar. The word on the sign barely covered up the fact that it used to be Tom’s Lounge; ‘Woody’s’ was simply painted over the faded ‘Tom’s.' Everything about the outside made you want to walk on by. Which was probably a smart move for most and probably why The Dark Saints liked it.

There was a sports bar in Port Azrael and a new micro brew had opened in the last few weeks. I may have checked those out if I was here for fun or as a tourist. But I was not. The Dark Saints didn’t do sports bars.

I thought about trying to look like a tough biker chick. I thought maybe that would be how I could get close to The Dark Saints. But I was there to work at the library. Biker chicks didn’t work at the library. So I’d chosen the exact opposite plan. I was going to look as innocent as possible.

I was a damsel in distress, a vulnerable librarian. Hopefully that would catch the right eyes.

It was also hot as hell season in Texas. I had no idea if biker chicks wore leather all the time, but I imagined that would be about as uncomfortable as wearing a snow suit. I was glad I’d abandoned that idea pretty quickly when I saw how out of place I’d have looked, pretending to be something I clearly wasn’t.

I was too young to act like I was some grizzled old cop. I knew that. So, I was going to have to go with dumb. I could play dumb. I was confident enough to be totally fine with underestimation. I’d need to use it.

Even though it was the middle of the day, Woody’s Lounge wasn’t empty. There were people milling around. Getting a drink in the middle of the day was a foreign concept to me. But there they were.

I looked around. There were pool tables, with a haze of cigarette smoke hanging over each one. I choked back my revulsion. I hated smoke.

I pep-talked myself a bit, went up to a barstool and planted myself on it. I was supposed to be there. I could handle myself. But I did feel ridiculous, like an imposter in my own life.

“Can I get a sweet tea with lemon?”

The man behind the bar game raised his eyebrows.

“Living on the edge eh?” he said. I supposed I should have ordered liquor. I had a lot to learn about all of this. But tea for a librarian? That worked, dammit. Fake it until you make it was going to have to be the plan.

“Yes, I guess so,” I said.

“I’m out of lemon.” The bartender was looking at me through squinted eyes. I ignored the not so subtle cue to get out of his place. He was skinny and grizzled looking. Like he’d been here for decades. Maybe he had.

“Okay, but you have to have tea right? Everyone has tea.”

“I don’t have to, but I do.” The bartender softened.

He’d taken a page out of Inez’s playbook and tried to run me off with a gruff exterior. But my Grandma invented gruff. A scowl wasn’t enough to get rid of me. My Grandma could scowl with the best of them.

I sat on a corner stool at one end of the bar and stirred a packet of sugar into my tea.

“You know, there’s a nicer place, closer to the water,” the bartender said.

“Oh, it’s my first time here in Port Azrael. I’m going to be working across the street at the library for a while. This seemed perfect.”

“You’re a little too pretty to hang out here.”

“Yeah? Well, you’re a little too little to do anything about it.” I gave him a wink.

“Sassy thing. I’m Woodrow. If you need anything else, just give me a holler. I may be skinny, but I’m ornery. Just like you, it appears.”

“I think we just became best friends, Woodrow.”

He nodded and walked down to the other end of the bar to handle a customer who was shaking an empty tumbler.

Maybe it was too early. Maybe The Dark Saints only came out at night. Maybe this plan to meet one was as ridiculous as it was feeling right about then. I didn’t doubt my secret mission, but my methods were as untested as possible. A criminal justice degree and the police academy were good training. But they weren’t real world training. Answering phones at the office also had not prepared me for a damn thing.

I said a prayer under my breath, “Daddy, can you help me out here? Am I in the right place?”

Almost as if Daddy had heard me, or I summoned something to appear, the doorway became dark.