Getting Rowdy
Page 68

Was that why Avery had wanted him along? He sure as hell couldn’t think of any other reason.
“I’m sorry,” Sonya said as she rejoined them at the table. Both Rowdy and Fisher stood, but it was Meyer who returned in time to hold her chair.
To Rowdy, Sonya said, “I’ve been away from Avery for some time and we had some catching up to do. I hope you’ll forgive the rudeness.”
Rowdy looked past her to Avery, who was far too solemn. “I understand.” It damn near killed him, but Rowdy said, “If you need the day off, Avery, we can work it out.”
“No.” She cut her tiny sandwich into two tinier pieces. “No, it’s fine. Mom and I already worked that out, and I promised to come back soon to visit again.”
“But if you change your mind...” Sonya offered tentatively.
“Sorry, Mom, but I can’t. I’ll visit often, but Rowdy needs me there during work hours. Since he’s taken over the bar, the crowd has quadrupled.”
Meyer asked, “What time does the bar open today?”
Rowdy had a mouthful, damn it. He swallowed down the food and used the snow-white linen napkin on his mouth. “We open at three-thirty. The kitchen closes at eleven, last call is at one and we close up the bar at two. That’s six days a week, but we’re closed on Sunday.”
Fisher sat back in his seat. “I understand the establishment used to be a hot spot to barter drugs and traffic women.”
“Yeah?” Rowdy wasn’t sure how much Avery wanted her mother and stepfather to know. “Where’d you hear that?”
“Relax, Rowdy,” Meyer said. “No one is trying to accuse you.”
Tag team, huh? He tipped his head and stared at Fisher long enough to let the worm know what he thought of him. “I’m plenty relaxed.”
Sonya touched his forearm. “You’re sitting like a nun in church.”
He couldn’t rest back in his seat, not with his stitches, and he knew just enough not to prop his elbows on the table.
“Rowdy is always relaxed and confident and comfortable.” Avery leaned forward to see around her mother. “He was injured in a fight so he can’t rest back,” she said with a glare at Fisher. “And no one would have any reason to accuse Rowdy of anything.”
Grinning, Fisher held up his hands. “Isn’t that what we just said?”
“Injured how?” Sonya wanted to know.
Looked like he wouldn’t be eating anything more. Rowdy pushed back his plate. “It’s nothing.”
“He got cut with a big knife.”
Shit. Rowdy wondered what Sonya would think if he stuffed one of the fancy cloth napkins in Avery’s mouth.
Hand to her throat, Sonya stared at him. “A knife fight?”
“It wasn’t that dramatic, and it wasn’t that much of a fight.”
“Did this happen at the bar?” Meyer demanded to know.
Rowdy shook his head. “It happened outside the bar—”
“Only because Rowdy took it outside,” Avery said. “And even after he got cut, he still kicked their butts.”
“Good Lord,” Sonya said.
“He was defending a little boy!”
“You let kids in the bar?” Fisher asked.
Bombarded by their accusing stares and Avery’s enthusiastic retelling of things, Rowdy felt his strain amplify. “No.” If Avery wanted to air it all, then by God, he’d do some airing. “As you said, the bar had previously been used for trading drugs, and yeah, there was a link to human trafficking that got shut down.”
Sonya looked ready to faint.
With relish, Avery said, “It was pretty bad there before Rowdy cleaned it up.”
Her mother jerked around. “You worked there when that was going on?”
She shrugged. “I was a waitress, yeah.”
Egging them on? Rowdy had no idea what Avery was up to, but he didn’t like it. “I bought the place, Avery stayed on and for the most part we kicked out the—” assholes “—criminal element.”
“But guys showed up wanting to finish a deal they’d made with the previous owner,” Avery explained. “One of the buffoons brought his son along.”
Sonya and Meyer shared a horrified glance. Fisher barely kept his satisfaction to himself.
“Thanks to Rowdy,” Avery said with glee, “the man is in jail now, and the little boy is staying with one of Rowdy’s friends, who just happens to be a detective.”
Sonya swallowed audibly. “You mentioned a knife fight?”
Rowdy opened his mouth—but Avery beat him to the punch.
“The guy Rowdy pulverized had a cohort. That guy pulled a knife. Even after he cut Rowdy, though, Rowdy still took him apart.”
Great. Way to be discreet, Avery. Rowdy scratched his chin, waiting for the inevitable questions.
Fisher got things started. “So do you do a lot of street fighting?”
“I avoid it when I can.” Not entirely true, since he sometimes took great relish in pounding on the right people. “Sometimes I can’t.”
“Because of where you live and work?”
He shrugged. “Probably.”
Avery gasped. “That’s not true. It’s because he defends people when necessary.” Here she glared at Fisher. “Often when no one else will step up to do it.”
Sonya shifted uncomfortably; Fisher narrowed his eyes. Meyer made a sound of disgust.