CH:9 A Deal To Be Made

~Kasumi's P.O.V.~

     Kas stopped just inside the Lost Lodge Tavern to let her eyes adjust from the bright afternoon light. After a moment, she could see the round oak tables scattered across the wide room. An alcove off to the right contained a couple of pool tables and a jukebox with the usual garish lights. Two couches sat in front of a massive fireplace on the left wall. A long dark bar ran the length of the back with a mirror behind it. Automatically she catalogued escape routes: picture windows at front and sides, the back wall to the left had a doorway to the restrooms and kitchen and exit.

    Not a bad place. No blood stains were visible on the dark hardwood floor, the jukebox was playing soft country music, and the smell of beer vied with the appealing scent of roasted peanuts.

    Trying to ignore the ache in her knee, she strolled past a center table seating three rednecks, probably the drivers for the rigs taking up most of the parking lot. Two men were playing pool. A young college-aged couple by the fireplace held hands and talked quietly, totally enmeshed in their own little world. 

    Kas frowned and checked the room again. Where was the sheriff's brother? Or a waitress at least. She slid onto a wooden bar seat. And waited a full minute. Then grabbed a handful of peanuts as a reward for being patient and all that shit. But she owed the deceptively easy-going sheriff a thank you for giving her an excuse to meet a local. It didn't usually take long to get to know who had information in a town, and who liked to talk. This was an excellent start.

    As she cracked peanuts and practiced patience, two of the truckers tossed several dollar bills onto their table and left.

     Kas drummed her fingers on the bar. Didn't anyone work in this joint?

     Finally, a youngster hurried out from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a white apron worn over faded jeans. Sun-colored hair and a British Isle's complexion, and—Kas frowned—no way was this kid over twenty-one. The girl checked the room, stopping to talk with the people by the fireplace. The remaining trucker, a big man with a florid face, pushed himself to his feet with a grunt of effort. After a furtive glance at the underage waitress, he picked up the money left on the table and lurched toward the door.

     The girl looked at the table, and her mouth dropped open. "Hey! You took my tips!" She ran after the trucker and circled to stand in front of him, a chihuahua confronting a rottweiler.

     He glared. "Didn't do nothin'. Get outta my way, kid."

     "Give me back my money." Hands on hips, the girl had the bravado of a child who'd never been seriously hurt.

     That kid was about to learn a hard lesson. Kas scowled as she eased off the bar stool and crossed the room. And how dumb was this? She hadn't even healed up from the last fight.

     The bastard actually swung at the girl.

     Almost too late, Kas slammed her forearm into his, knocking his punch to one side. The kid squeaked in shock and back-pedaled quickly. 'Bout time.

     So. Stand down and let him go? Naw, letting the asshole steal from a baby didn't sit right. "Give the kid back her money, and your afternoon won't be ruined," Kas said softly.

     "Get the fuck out of my way, or I'll smash your face." He waved a beefy fist at her.

     Kas pushed the little girl farther away and out of the field of fire. Across the room, the other bar occupants were moving to assist.

     She didn't need or want help. "Oooo, now I'm scared."

     His face turned beet red as his anger overcame his brain—whatever brain he had. Probably not much bigger than his dick. He let out a roar and swung.

     'Perfect.' Kas moved six inches.

     His fist hit the door. "Fuck!" Shaking his hand, he reeled back.

     While he was distracted, Kas plucked the money out of his undamaged hand. After opening the door, she stood in the opening, waving the dollar bills tauntingly.

     He lunged at her. "Bitch, you're gonna—"

     'That widdle brain probably couldn't think of a word nasty enough', Kas figured, and she moved out of the way again. Well, almost out of the way. She did happen to stick her foot out. And maybe lift it a little to improve the guy's dive.

      What a great dive. Face first into the pavement. "Ouch," Kas said sympathetically, leaning on the open door. "I bet that hurt."

     "Yes, I would assume it did," said a slightly English accented deep, cold voice next to her.

     Her hands coming up in a defensive move, Kas spun to face the man. Black clothing, leanly muscular, chiseled features, forbidding expression. Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Deadly. She hadn't even heard him approach. 'Dammit, nobody moved that quietly.'

    He eased two steps back. "Pardon me. I was simply admiring your work. Bloody fine job."

    Kas was taken in by the calm tone until she met his gaze. His eyes were black with fury.

     "Well. Thank you." A little unnerved, she turned to check the trucker, but he was alive although staggering.

     The girl peeked out of the door, saw her assailant retreating, and grabbed Kas around the waist for a hug. As her ribs threatened to cave in, Kas managed not to scream—somehow—though the world spun like a top.

     "Oh, thank you! I was, like, really, really scared," she babbled as Kas tried to escape. The girl had a grip like a plumber's wrench.

     "Here's your money," Kas gasped, handing over the dollar bills in exchange for being released.

     "Katie." The man said the girl's name, uninflected, just the name, and, shoving the money into her pocket, the child turned to stand military straight in front of…her father?

     He was a good six-three, with black hair and a dark complexion where Katie was short and fair. The kid's features looked nothing like his, and boy, her impulsive attitude was nothing like his. The man was like a volcano filled with molten magma controlled by thick rock walls. The trucker should be grateful Kas got to him first—this guy would have incinerated him.

      Katie stared at her feet. "I'm sorry, Daddy. I just wanted my money."

      "Indeed. And did confronting a drunk work well for you?"

       "I—I didn't think he'd get so mad." Her voice was only a whisper. "I was scared."

      Just when Kas had decided the father was a real asshole, he wrapped the little girl in his arms. "So was I, Katie, so was I." 

      Kas bit her lip as her insides turned to mush. Fucking-A, she'd turned into a wimp. Time for a quiet retreat. She glanced at the shaken young couple in the middle of the room, received a thumbs-up from the pool players closer to the door. Rubbing her ribs, she eased away.

      'The mission had been fun, but not exactly a success—no books, dammit.' After letting the door close behind her, she made it partway across the parking lot when she heard the man's voice.

      "Stop." The "please" that followed seemed to be an afterthought. 

      Kas hesitated. Aftermaths, thank yous, and all that shit tended to suck.

      But the kid moved faster than a cockroach in the light and planted herself square in Kas's path. "Daddy wants to talk to you."

      Kas sighed. Knocking munchkins ass-over-teakettle just wasn't done. She reversed direction with Katie skipping beside her.

      The man held his hand out, his dark eyes intent on hers. "My name is Tatum McGavan. This is my bar." His fingers were callused, firm, and very strong. "Thank you for helping my daughter."

       "I'm Kasumi Breezly. And she shouldn't be left alone in your bar," Kas said bluntly.

       "No, she shouldn't." Narrowed eyes the color of slate turned toward his daughter.

       The kid's head went down again. "I'm sorry, Daddy. I saw the men leave and I wanted my tip. I didn't want that man to take my money."

      "Katie, he nearly flattened you."

      "I'm sorry," she whispered.

      Kas smothered a smile. 'Neat trick the girl had, turning a man into a marshmallow. I should take notes.' 

       "We'll talk at supper tonight," he said as Katie pulled the door open. Just when the girl probably thought she'd escaped reprisal, he added, "Before then, please determine what punishment you think would be appropriate."

      Heaving a sigh, Katie disappeared inside.

      "She wasn't expecting that one," Kas said in approval.

      "Indeed." The man tucked his fingers under Kas's arm, steered her firmly across the room, and settled her at the bar. "What can I get you to drink?"

     "Just water, please."

     He set a bottled water and glass in front of her and leaned his elbow on the counter. "Is there a way in which I might repay you for saving my daughter?"

     Kas almost asked for a book, then reconsidered as she opened the water and took a sip. She needed information about the shifter beasts. She needed to find Landon's grandfather. What better place to do recon than the local—and only—tavern? "I'd like a job."

~Tatum's P.O.V.~

     "A job?" Tatum felt as if the little female had punched him.

     Hire a human? In his tavern?

     Yet, he'd offered repayment for balance. The Law of Reciprocity had to be observed, even if with a human. He'd expected her to wave his gesture away or name a monetary amount. But employment? He was trapped in a net of his own making. "Let me think."

      She nodded and sipped her water peacefully, the least anxious job applicant he'd ever seen. He studied her for a minute, taking in the diminutive body—maybe five-four—trim, but shapely with especially fine breasts. Big eyes, long hair that made a man want to tangle his fingers in it, full lips…a lethal little package, in more ways than the trucker had discovered.

      He opened a bottle of water for himself, buying time. Two problems arose. The first—the door to the forest tunnels was in the hallway. Would she notice shifters using it? Probably not. She'd spend most of her time in the main room, and the hall also held the restrooms and back exit so there was a reason for people being in that area.

     Secondly, how would his shifter customers react to a human employee?

      A handful of shifters—especially the older ones—hated humans. Unfortunately for them, unless they wanted to live completely isolated or in Elder Village without amenities, they had to rub shoulders with humans. He looked across the room to where Tom and Pedro were playing pool. They would be no problem. In fact, most of the Danain wouldn't care what species the waitress was so long as the drinks arrived in an expeditious manner. They might even be pleased since he'd been short-handed since Tiffani had returned to college last month.

     For the human haters… It helped she was female. With the scarcity of female Danain, women were revered, and that regard would likely be extended to this human.

     "Miss Breezly," he said, drawing her attention. "I don't have any need for kitchen help. However, although I already have a waitress, I could use a part-timer." He hesitated and cautioned, "The bar can occasionally get rather rough. Perhaps—"

     "It sounds perfect." She toasted him with her bottle. "Waitress and bouncer combined in one."

     His jaw dropped. "You do not understand. That was a warning."

     She tilted her head, and her lips quirked.

     He recalled the efficient way she'd dealt with the trucker. No noise during the altercation, no hysterics after. "Indeed, what was I thinking? Your hours would be seven to eleven on Tuesday and Wednesday, four to two-thirty on Friday and Saturday. I pay standard wages; you keep all your tips."

      She held out her hand. "Works for me."

      He took her hand, feeling the calluses on the delicate fingers. She was no stranger to work…or to fighting. "Where did you learn to fight like that?"

     "I studied martial arts for a while."

      "Apparently you were an excellent student. Yes, I believe we have an accord. You may start Friday."

     "Great. Now that's out of the way—is there any chance I can borrow a book?"