“It’s not too late to walk away,” Maya cooed from across the table, amber colored eyes coyly tempting the man seated across from her. “In fact, buy me another drink and I’ll forgive you. Everyone wins,”
Across from her sat Dalton Franks, a bounty hunter not exactly known for his tact. Here he was, an unsettlingly large gun facing her, ready to cash in on the biggest score of his career. Maya was amused at his audacity. To walk into her bar and expect her to just quietly walk back to face trial for her crimes. The last place she wanted to be was in some stuffy jail cell while a bunch of old politicians decided her fate.
“Tempting…” his voice trailed off with a lustful growl. “I’m curious to see if the stories about you are true,” he replied, the thick scent of alcohol clung to him with each exhalation.
“Oh, they are, I assure you” she teased, the odor of sweat and dirt washed over her as she leaned in closer. 3… the number ticked in her head as she waited for his next move.
“You make an enticing offer,” he replied, his gaze lingered on her curves. “But the bounty’s just too good to pass up. I hope you understand.”
2… She silently dropped her right hand to the holster under the table. “And who knows, maybe we can still find ways to keep each other entertained. It’s a long trip back,” he continued, smugly unaware of the danger he was in.
1… A wave of heat emanated from the expulsed round as it ejected from the weapon held under the table. She watched in pleased ecstasy as his face shifted from lust to surprise in the span of a second. He attempted to reach for his own weapon, she squeezed the trigger a second time. The rowdy atmosphere of the bar froze, the bounty hunter’s body slumped forward onto the table with an echoing thud.
As she rose from the booth, her hands hastily straightened out her black vest and white shirt. The gun swiftly slid back into its holster as she addressed her nervous audience. “Free drinks on me!” she shouted, reinvigorating the startled patrons back to their previous levels of enthusiasm.
“Subtle as always captain,” her first mate, Kol Brymbenth, commented sarcastically. A handsome fellow, with dark ebony skin and intense grey eyes.
“Get some of the boys down here to clean this up,” she commanded as if ordering him to take out day old trash.
“Yes, ma’am,” he replied calmly as she continued towards the bar.
Carelessly, she stretched herself over the counter, plucked a bottle of whiskey from its holdings, and poured herself a drink. “To freedom!” she cheered to her customers before taking a long throat singeing gulp.