rooted to the spot.
She had never had the undivided attention of a man this handsome before. The fear that he might do her harm may have paralyzed her, though. Angie could feel Bob a foot behind her and even at this distance she could feel him shaking.
“You, the barkeeper,” he said in a commanding voice to Bob, looking past Angie. Their eyes met briefly for a second and lightning sounded outside, just like in the movies.
“Y-yes,” Bob stammered.
“Where is it?” he said in a low voice, which nonetheless carried all the way to the farthest corner of the world.
He could have dropped a pin and the person in the next building would have heard it.
“W-where is w-what?” Bob said.
Angie couldn’t blame Bob for all the stammering. Bob, in the time that Angie had worked for him, had never raised his voice to anyone, not been rude to anyone, not been in a fight, not broken any fight.
He was the most laid back person you could imagine. He sucked at confrontations and tonight he was getting thrust into one by his absolute opposite: young, virile, commanding and dashing, the Stranger. He was the kind of man that women swooned over and men wanted to become.
“Don’t play games with me, old man,” he said, and though his voice was low, there was menace in it.
“I swear I don’t know what you are talking about,” Bob said and Angie almost applauded that he didn’t stammer once during that sentence.
The stranger smashed his fist on the bar so abruptly that Angie flinched and a couple of shrieks sounded from the crowd.
Angie was afraid that Bob might have a heart attack.
“Listen, old man,” he growled. “I don’t have much time.”
“Then I suggest you don’t waste it here.”
There was utter and absolute silence. It was a little too late when Angie realized that it was her who had said those words.
Everybody hushed. Bob’s breath was coming in gasps. The stranger was astounded. He seemed to be as taken aback by this, as were the others. This was without a doubt the most interesting night in the Thirsty Crow’s history and it was now about to slow down.
“What did you say?” he said, his eyes drawn into slits.
“I said that he already told you that he didn’t know what he was talking about and I think he is telling the truth. Either tell us what it is or you are just wasting your time.”
Bob put a hand on Angie’s shoulder to calm her down. Angie didn’t know where she was getting the courage to talk to a man that looked as if he could smash a hundred beer bottles on his head and not feel a thing.
“I was not talking to you,” he said.
“And he’s lying.”
“I’m not,” Bob said defiantly, gaining courage, no doubt, from Angie’s resolve.
The stranger swung his left arm and hit three unopened beer bottles placed on the tabletop. They instantly flew across and hit the wall, shattering into a thousand pieces.
Angie flinched and Bob shrieked.
“Maybe now you will take me seriously,” he said.
“Where’s the package?”
Bob didn’t even reply this time.
“I am not going anywhere until you tell me where it is. They can’t hide it. You can’t hide it,” he kept on talking, confounding Angie more and more with every word he said.
“I can’t tell you if I have it or not if you don’t tell me what it is,” Bob said and Angie felt he was trying to sound braver than he felt, which usually worked. It was working for her right now.
“Did you get a package today? A black box?” he said, darting his eyes from Bob to Angie and back to Bob.
“No,” Bob said shaking his head.
“Liar,” the stranger snarled.
“Why would I lie to you?” Bob said exasperatedly.
“Because you’re one of them,” he said.
“One of who?”
The stranger was on the verge of saying something but checked himself just in time. Instead, he picked up a stool from the bar and threw it at the window beside the main entrance.
The window shattered with a deafening roar and the chair fell
She had never had the undivided attention of a man this handsome before. The fear that he might do her harm may have paralyzed her, though. Angie could feel Bob a foot behind her and even at this distance she could feel him shaking.
“You, the barkeeper,” he said in a commanding voice to Bob, looking past Angie. Their eyes met briefly for a second and lightning sounded outside, just like in the movies.
“Y-yes,” Bob stammered.
“Where is it?” he said in a low voice, which nonetheless carried all the way to the farthest corner of the world.
He could have dropped a pin and the person in the next building would have heard it.
“W-where is w-what?” Bob said.
Angie couldn’t blame Bob for all the stammering. Bob, in the time that Angie had worked for him, had never raised his voice to anyone, not been rude to anyone, not been in a fight, not broken any fight.
He was the most laid back person you could imagine. He sucked at confrontations and tonight he was getting thrust into one by his absolute opposite: young, virile, commanding and dashing, the Stranger. He was the kind of man that women swooned over and men wanted to become.
“Don’t play games with me, old man,” he said, and though his voice was low, there was menace in it.
“I swear I don’t know what you are talking about,” Bob said and Angie almost applauded that he didn’t stammer once during that sentence.
The stranger smashed his fist on the bar so abruptly that Angie flinched and a couple of shrieks sounded from the crowd.
Angie was afraid that Bob might have a heart attack.
“Listen, old man,” he growled. “I don’t have much time.”
“Then I suggest you don’t waste it here.”
There was utter and absolute silence. It was a little too late when Angie realized that it was her who had said those words.
Everybody hushed. Bob’s breath was coming in gasps. The stranger was astounded. He seemed to be as taken aback by this, as were the others. This was without a doubt the most interesting night in the Thirsty Crow’s history and it was now about to slow down.
“What did you say?” he said, his eyes drawn into slits.
“I said that he already told you that he didn’t know what he was talking about and I think he is telling the truth. Either tell us what it is or you are just wasting your time.”
Bob put a hand on Angie’s shoulder to calm her down. Angie didn’t know where she was getting the courage to talk to a man that looked as if he could smash a hundred beer bottles on his head and not feel a thing.
“I was not talking to you,” he said.
“And he’s lying.”
“I’m not,” Bob said defiantly, gaining courage, no doubt, from Angie’s resolve.
The stranger swung his left arm and hit three unopened beer bottles placed on the tabletop. They instantly flew across and hit the wall, shattering into a thousand pieces.
Angie flinched and Bob shrieked.
“Maybe now you will take me seriously,” he said.
“Where’s the package?”
Bob didn’t even reply this time.
“I am not going anywhere until you tell me where it is. They can’t hide it. You can’t hide it,” he kept on talking, confounding Angie more and more with every word he said.
“I can’t tell you if I have it or not if you don’t tell me what it is,” Bob said and Angie felt he was trying to sound braver than he felt, which usually worked. It was working for her right now.
“Did you get a package today? A black box?” he said, darting his eyes from Bob to Angie and back to Bob.
“No,” Bob said shaking his head.
“Liar,” the stranger snarled.
“Why would I lie to you?” Bob said exasperatedly.
“Because you’re one of them,” he said.
“One of who?”
The stranger was on the verge of saying something but checked himself just in time. Instead, he picked up a stool from the bar and threw it at the window beside the main entrance.
The window shattered with a deafening roar and the chair fell
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