Soul Possession(2)

Merriam was a hard-ass, uptight bitch who was an absolute monster to work for. But Merriam paid good wages and Jessie made good tips at the popular pub. Her regulars always took good care of her. The money had made the crap that Jessie had to put up with worth it.

Her shoulders sagged and her hands still shook from her confrontation with Merriam. They were already shorthanded and Jessie really, really wanted to say to hell with all of them and walk out, because then Merriam would have to come out and help tend bar and she hated to be dragged out of her office for any reason.

It only made Jessie feel marginally better that she’d told Merriam exactly what she thought of her. She’d left by telling Merriam that she hoped she was run over by a bus. Okay, so maybe that wasn’t the classiest exit, but really, how was being Miss Manners going to help? It wasn’t like by being polite she’d suddenly get her job back.

“Problem, Jessie?” Denise barked from behind the counter. “You’ve got customers waiting. Get your ass in gear.”

“Fuck off,” Jessie snapped. Oh God, did that feel good. She almost laughed at Denise’s look of shock.

She turned to see Truitt Cavanaugh motion for another round of beers. Her mouth drooped as she realized that this would be the last night she’d get to serve her two sexy detectives. She’d miss flirting with them, and those smoldering stares they sent her way when they thought she wasn’t looking. Or, hell, maybe they did know.

They’d been angling to get her into bed for weeks and she’d always put them off. The idea of having a threesome was shocking but titillating in an exciting oh-my-God kind of way, but she’d never mustered the nerve to go for it.

She wasn’t a virgin, but she was woefully behind in the sex education department, and somehow she knew they were so far out of her league that she hadn’t a prayer of satisfying either.

They were bad boys and she was a wholesome, sweet good girl, and if that wasn’t enough to disgust her, she didn’t know what was.

Still, she wouldn’t mind signing up for Sex Ed if they were teaching.

Rick was all dark and brooding. Quieter than Truitt. His hair hung to his shoulders, sleek and black, just made for a woman’s fingers. She was fascinated by a man who’d have the words Courage, Honor, and Heart tattooed around his wrist like a bracelet. It made her wonder all manner of things about his hidden depths and how much she’d like to plumb them.

Truitt was no less of a badass, and in some ways he was fiercer-looking than Rick. He was big and broad-shouldered, a few inches taller than Rick with a body builder’s physique. He wore an earring in one ear but she’d been close enough to know that both ears were pierced.

Spiraling bands with sharp points and flowing edges circled both arms and disappeared into his sleeves. She always wondered how far up his body his tats went, and what other secrets hid behind the T-shirts and jeans he wore.

Between the two of them, they’d fueled some serious bad-girl fantasies. She could be bad. She could totally be bad given the right provocation, and damn if they didn’t provoke some serious desire to be really, really naughty.

She sighed. One day. Maybe. But then why not tonight?

She grabbed a few bottles and made her way through the crowd, trying to smile despite wanting to cry. She hated looking for a job. She hated walking into a place and asking for an application. She hated being conspicuous in these situations, and she always felt like everyone in the world was watching her and judging.

And now she’d have to start that process all over again and she didn’t have any days to spare to be off work. Money was tight and she couldn’t miss her classes. Not when the semester was almost up.

Halfway across the floor, someone backed into her and all her weight came down on her bad knee. It buckled and she hit the floor, but she managed to keep the beer bottles held high, a fact she was absurdly happy about.

Pain shot through her leg and she bit her lip to keep from crying out. The guy who knocked her down quickly bent over, his expression one of genuine regret. But before he could offer to help her up, Truitt and Rick were both bending down, concern bright in their eyes.

“Jessie, you okay?” Truitt demanded.

Embarrassed to be the center of attention in the crowded pub, she nodded, her cheeks hot.

“Let me help you up, sweetheart,” Rick said as he gently guided her to her feet.

Her knee gave way immediately and Truitt hauled her to his side until she was steady. She offered a shaky smile and then held out the beers.

“At least I didn’t spill your beer,” she joked.

“I don’t give a damn about the beer,” Truitt growled. “Come sit down. You’re hurt.”

They helped her to their table and eased her down into one of the chairs. Rick bent down on one knee and slid his hands up her bare leg. He frowned when he got to one of the scars around her knee.

“What happened here?”

She tried to pull her leg away, but he kept a firm hold. His fingers were gentle, but he didn’t allow her to escape.

“Car accident,” she mumbled. “My knee still gives me trouble sometimes.”

“What the hell are you doing working a job that requires you to be on your feet all the time if you’ve got a bum knee?” Truitt demanded.

This time Rick relinquished his grip when she tried to pull away. She tucked both legs under the table and glanced quickly around, relieved to note that everyone had gone on about their business and quickly forgotten about her.