Her brother, Dale Morris, sat in a booth, across from the bar, pretending he didn’t know her. He was big, a muscle bound tough. Tonight he wore a loose fitting black jersey, as much to hide his physique as to conceal the identifying tattoos on his arms and chest. The bar was dimly lit. Smokey. One of those places men go nightly to drink themselves to death. Dale had found it. Jenna worked to keep her eyes off Dale. He’d paid to get her fine black hair cut short, spikey. Even bought a stud for her nose. It was Dale’s way of boosting her confidence. She loved the look but felt self-conscious wearing it. Fidgeting on her stool, she looked to the man sitting on her left. He was big, broad shouldered, with dark, smoldering eyes. Not long ago, he’d purchased the tonic water she now held in her hand. The barkeep had placed the glass in front of her and then nodded to where the man sat across the bar. Jenna grinned at him appreciatively. He crossed the bar and took the seat next to her.
