Page 14 of Link (Dragon Riders MC 1)
“Like I said, more of a hobby. But it gives me a brand around town. People know my batches of whiskey aren’t mass-produced. So, I make a few once a batch comes out good and I get to charge out the asshole for drinks that use it.”
She grinned. “Do you ever sell them by the bottle?”
“Oh, yeah. I’ve raked in a lot of money doing that. But for this batch I’m not selling any bottles.”
“Why’s that?”
“I do that sometimes. If a batch comes out particularly good, I let the other bars use it in their drinks for an upcharge and I give the bottles out to my men.”
She paused. “Wait, other bars?”
“Yep.”
“You have other bars.”
“Yep.”
“Where?”
He shrugged. “Around.”
“Uh huh.”
I leaned forward. “I really am sorry about Sly.”
She sighed. “It’s okay. I mean, it’s not okay. He could get into some serious trouble coming at me like that. But I get why he doesn’t like me.”
“Care to indulge me with the explanation?”
She polished off her drink and set the glass on top of my desk.
“I’m a criminal prosecutor,” she said.
I leaned back in my own chair. “That explains a lot.”
“What do you mean?”
I shrugged. “Well, for starters? The getup I found you in on the side of the road. It makes sense now.”
She grinned. “Yes. Well. When I was in my last year of law school, I worked as an intern for the D.A. And one of the cases we worked had Mr. Slydell on the stand. The D.A. wanted me to be the one to question him. He figured it would be a good experience for someone like myself. So, Mr. Slydell and I’s first introduction wasn’t necessarily the best.”
I chuckled, and it caused Joanna to wrinkle her nose.
“What?” she asked.
I shook my head. “Nothing.”
“No, really. What is it?”
I swallowed my laughter. “It’s just… that name.”
“What name?”
“Mr. Slydell. He hates his last name.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s a shitty last name.”
She blinked. “I don’t think so.”
I kept chuckling. “It’s just funny to hear you call him that. That’s all. We all call him ‘Sly.’”
She clicked her tongue. “He was pretty sly on that stand; I’ll give him that.”
I snickered. “Our nicknames fit; we’ll just say that.”
“That so, Sausage?”
I smiled. “Yep.”
She rolled her eyes. “So, I came by to thank you. For my car.”
I nodded. “You’re more than welcome.”
“How long did it take you to fix that thing up?”
I shrugged. “Does it matter?”
“It matters to me.”
“Why?”
“So I know how to repay you in order to pay my debt off.”
“You don’t owe me anything.”
“Yes, I do.”
I shook my head. “You really don’t.”
She leaned forward. “In my world? You don’t leave favors open-ended like that. If someone does you a favor, you do one of equal weight back. Then, no one feels like they own the other or anything like that.”
I paused. “Where did you grow up?”
“What?”
“Where did you grow up, Joanna?”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Can’t I get to know you a little bit?”
She sighed. “I’m not here to talk about myself. I’m here to figure out specifics so I know how to pay you back.”
“What if I tell you that having a conversation with me is payback enough?”
She blinked. “Can I get that in writing?”
I chuckled. “Yep. You’re a lawyer, all right.”
“Link, all I want is—”
“Where did you grow up, Joanna? Just answer the question.”
I watched her struggle with my command for a while before she pulled her chair closer to my desk.
“Dallas,” she said.
My eyebrows raised. “A southern girl in the north. You don’t have an accent.”
“I worked hard to bury it in school.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m already considered stupid because I’m a woman. No need to put an accent that’s also considered stupid along with it.”
Huh. “So, does your accent ever come out at all?”
“What? You’ve got a thing for southern accents or something?”
I shrugged. “Or something.”
She rolled her eyes. “There you go with that cryptic stuff again.”
I chuckled. “I’m nothing, if not hard to read. It’s why I’m so good at poker.”
“Ugh. I’m terrible at card games. All of them.”
“What about board games?”
“You know, I don’t really like games, in general.”
I nodded. “Fair enough. What do you like to do in your spare time, then?”
I watched her relax in the chair a bit. “I like to sit.”
“Sit.”
“Yep.”
“Just sit?”
She smiled. “Yep.”
“And not do anything?”
She popped the “p.” “Ye-p.”
“Giving me a taste of my own medicine now?”
She winked. “Yep.”
I smiled. “I take it you have a practice somewhere in town, then?”
She nodded. “You were right about a lot of things last night. I opened my own practice a few months back. It’s a couple of blocks down from the police department in town. Right on the corner across from the bakery.”
“I love that place. I can’t go anywhere near it without going inside and getting—”
“One of their cinnamon sticks?” she asked.
I nodded. “Yep.”
She giggled. “I love getting those things. Especially when I’m hauling coffee into work. I dip those things in my coffee, and it gives my coffee this wonderful cinnamon sugary sort of taste. It makes my damn mornings.”
