Save Your Breath (Morgan Dane #6)(76)

Sharp tapped on the bar. “Whiskey. Make it a double.”

Lance raised a brow at him behind Alexander’s back. His boss rarely drank hard liquor.

The bartender looked questioningly at Lance, and he ordered a club soda. She poured Sharp’s whiskey and slid it across the bar toward him. He lifted the glass, then downed half the liquid in one smooth gulp. The bartender set a glass of club soda in front of Lance and walked away.

Lance turned and put his elbow on the bar, crowding Alexander between him and Sharp.

On the other side, Sharp’s arm bumped Alexander’s. Beer sloshed over the rim of his mug.

“Hey.” Alexander mopped up the bar with his cocktail napkin. He glared at Sharp. Recognition dawned on his face, and his angry stare turned suspicious. “What do you want?”

“Remember me?” Sharp drained his glass and tapped it on the bar. The bartender refilled it.

“Yeah. You work with that bitch cop.” Alexander’s mouth turned smug. “You can’t make me talk. Charge me with something or leave me the fuck alone.”

“I’m not a cop.” Whiskey in hand, Sharp turned to face him.

Lance added, “Neither am I.”

With an assessing glare at each of them, Alexander sipped his beer. “Then why are you here?”

“I have a few follow-up questions.” Sharp drank another finger of whiskey. “About the LMS.”

Alexander choked and almost dropped his beer. “Shh.”

“Let’s get a table.” Lance pointed at an empty table at the back of the room.

“No.” Alexander swiveled on his stool, putting his back to the bar. “I ain’t saying anything.”

Sharp got in his face. “There’s a woman who went missing last Friday morning. She’s my girlfriend. This is personal. I’m not fucking around here.”

“That reporter I saw on the news?” Alexander frowned.

“Yes.” Sharp nodded.

“Not my problem.” Alexander shrugged.

Sharp’s face reddened. He finished his second drink and set the empty glass on the bar. “The LMS could be involved.”

“Then the bitch is probably dead.” Alexander set his beer on the bar. “You know what happened to Kennett, right?”

A muscle under Sharp’s eye twitched.

“Why would the LMS murder Kennett Olander?” Lance asked.

Alexander paled, clearly realizing his mistake. “How would I know?”

“Hypothetically,” Sharp said. “Why would an organization like the LMS kill a man?”

Alexander ignored the question.

Sharp grabbed Alexander by the front of his sweatshirt and dragged him off his stool. “The reporter was at the Olander farm last Monday night. Did you see her there?”

“I wasn’t there. I got fired, remember?” Alexander spat in Sharp’s face. “Fuck off.”

Lance moved around Alexander and tried to catch Sharp’s arms. “Time to go, Sharp.”

But Sharp shook him off. The older man spun, and before Lance could stop him, he punched Alexander square in the face. Alexander’s head snapped back, and he stumbled.

“Hey!” A tall, hefty man charged from the back of the room, a beer bottle in his hand. With no hesitation, he swung it at the back of Sharp’s head. Sharp was focused on Alexander. He didn’t even see the man coming.

Lunging forward, Lance jumped in front of the assailant and blocked the blow, forearm to forearm. The impact rang through the bones of Lance’s arm. The man drilled a punch into Lance’s solar plexus. The air whooshed from his lungs, and he doubled over.

The man raised the bottle high, his mouth twisting into a mean smile. He was enjoying the fight.

Lance took a breath and grabbed the man’s arm as the bottle came down. With a twist of his hips, he threw the man to the floor. The beer bottle flew from his hand, hit the wall, and shattered. The man rolled to his feet, swiped a hand across his mouth, and lunged at Lance, trying to tackle him around the thighs. Lance shot his legs out behind him and centered his weight onto the man’s shoulder blades. The man went down on his face.

Spinning around, Lance grabbed the man’s arm and twisted it behind his back. Heart sprinting, lungs heaving, Lance paused for air.

Ten feet away, Sharp was straddling Alexander’s chest and punching him in the face. Hauling his hand back, he made another fist. “I asked you a question. Why would the LMS have killed Olander?”

“Money!” Alexander spat blood from his mouth. “They paid for the farm. He mortgaged it and took the money for his dumbass son’s defense.”

Sharp shook him by the front of his shirt. “How do you know that?”

“I worked there for years. I heard things.” Alexander wet his lips.

“Did they kidnap Olivia Cruz?” Sharp asked.

Alexander closed his bloody lips.

Sharp raised a fist over his face, ready to pound him again.

“Sharp!” Releasing his opponent, Lance staggered to his feet. He launched himself at Sharp’s back and hooked his arms under Sharp’s shoulders. He dragged his boss off Alexander and held him in a full nelson. “Calm down!”

“Let me go!” Sharp struggled against Lance’s grip. Hooking a foot behind Lance’s ankle, Sharp tripped him. They went down to the floor in a heap, with Sharp still fighting him. Frustration and desperation lent him stamina and strength.