The smell of the place assaulted him the moment Mel pulled open the door. Stale smoke, stale beer, stale sweat. There was a rumbling sound from the jukebox, and, though Sebastian had very eclectic tastes in music, he hoped he wouldn’t be subjected to that surly sound for long.

Men were lined up at the bar—the kind of men with burly forearms littered with tattoos. This particular artwork ran heavily in favor of snakes and skulls. There was a clatter as four oily-looking characters shot nine ball. Some glanced up, their gazes sliding over Sebastian with a kind of smirking derision and lingering on Mel, longer and with more affection.

He picked up on scattered thoughts—easy enough, since the average IQ of the patrons hovered below three digits. His lips twitched once. He hadn’t realized there were so many ways to describe a … lady.

The lady in question, one of three currently enjoying the atmosphere, sauntered up to the bar and wiggled her leather-clad bottom onto a stool. That wide, slicked mouth was pursed in a sexy pout. “Least you can do is buy me a beer,” she said to Sebastian in a breathy little voice that caught him off guard. Her eyes narrowed briefly in warning, and he remembered his cue.

“Listen, sweetcakes, I told you it wasn’t my fault.”

Sweetcakes? Mel stopped herself from rolling her eyes. “Sure, nothing is. You get canned, it’s not your fault. You lose a hundred bucks playing poker with your slimy friends, it’s not your fault. Give me a beer, will you?” she called to the bartender, and crossed those long, lovely legs.

Trying to hulk a bit, Sebastian held up two fingers, then slid onto the stool beside her. “I told you … Didn’t I tell you that creep had it in for me at work? And why don’t you get off my back?”

“Oh, sure.” She sniffed as the beers were slapped down in front of them. When Sebastian reached for his back pocket, it occurred to her that his wallet was probably worth more than the combined liquid assets of the bar’s patrons. And that it was likely filled with plenty of the green stuff, along with a few flashy gold credit cards.

She hissed at him.

He understood instantly, and that would give her some food for thought later. His hand hesitated, then dropped away.

“Tapped out again?” she said, a sneer in her voice. “Isn’t that just swell?” With obvious reluctance, she dug into her bag and unearthed two ragged dollar bills. “You’re such a loser, Harry.”

Harry? Sebastian’s frown was entirely authentic. “I’ll have some coming in. I got ten on the game.”

“Oh, sure, sure. You’ll be rolling in it.” She gave him her back and, sipping at the mug of beer, scanned the room.