Locking the car, they crossed the asphalt to the entrance. The skinny white bitch who greeted them had a dozen eyebrow rings and ear gauges the size of quarters. A talent show played on a flat-screen mounted on the wall. Across the bar, another TV played a UFC fight.

“I wanna watch the fight,” Mick said.

“ ’Kay.” She deposited them at a table with a direct view.

Mick pulled out a chair and sat, still edgy.

Sam tapped his fingers on the table. “Where the fuck is the waitress?”

Only two tables were occupied. A family of four sat in a booth near the door, and a single businesswoman read an electronic tablet over a plate of pasta. The two white-blond rug rats yammered. The nonstop whining tempted Mick to pull out his knife and slit both their pasty little throats. “Place is dead. Probably isn’t one. Go on up to the bar and get drinks and a menu.”

On his way back, Sam eyed the lone woman as he passed her table. He set two menus and a double shot of vodka in front of Mick. He jerked his head toward her. “I’d be interested in some of that.”

“That’s not on the menu tonight.” Mick unfolded the laminated cardboard.

“It could be.” Sam’s pupils were big as manhole covers. No wonder the coke supply was low.

The woman glanced around as if she could sense his scrutiny. The family gathered up their belongings and headed for the door. The two young boys shoved each other.

“Knock it off.” The father separated them. A pleasant quiet fell over the bar as they left.

Mick sipped his vodka. “Kids are fucking annoying. Why do people want them?”

But Sam didn’t answer. His eyes were fixed on the woman. Mick glanced at her. Wearing a black suit jacket and pants paired with a white shirt, she was in her mid to late twenties. Her brown hair fell in shiny waves just past her shoulders. With little makeup, she was normal-pretty. Wedding ring on her left hand. She was the sort of woman Mick wanted. Sam usually went for T and A. This woman didn’t have much of either. Course, that hadn’t stopped him with Joleen Walken.

Mick studied his brother. “Not your usual type.”

“I know.” Sam’s eyes gleamed with malice. They should have brought some weed to mellow him out. Coke brought out Sam’s mean streak, honed his nasty edge ’til it was switchblade-sharp. “Women like that don’t want anything to do with the likes of us. You got to make her do what you want. Woman like that might put up a good fight, too.”

“We don’t want to attract any attention.” Mick set the menu down. “I’m getting a burger.”

“Sounds good.” But Sam’s eyes remained on the brunette.