Jak saw that her eyes were a deep emerald green, just like that old jade he found once in a predark museum.
She was almost as lovely as his Christina The memory of his murdered wife cooled his passion completely, and the teenager stood back a bit from the ravishing woman.
Instantly, Lily felt the mood change, and she could see some dark memory cloud his face. Instinctively, she understood it was for a deceased love or family member. Hell’s bells, everybody lost kin these days, especially with all the trouble at Front Royal. Taking his mug, she poured another two jiggers without being asked.
“So what did you use for sweet?” she asked, pushing the mug closer.
He drained it in a gulp, then slowly faced her again. “Beets,” Jak replied without a trace of warmth. He was just answering a question, nothing more. “Honey when could.”
“How did you make it taste old?”
Without meaning to, the teenager grinned. “Touch of iodine,” Jak admitted.
“Yeah, you’ve done ‘shine. Here, next round is on me.” Lily started to pour a third drink.
“Two is limit,” Jak said, snaking his hand across the counter to touch her arm. The woman’s skin was a light, creamy palea peaches-and-cream complexion, he had heard Mildred call it, but she looked tan when compared to his white skin.
She patted his powerful hand. “I’m no gaudy slut.”
The albino smiled. “Then free?” he teased.
Lily frowned in mock anger, then laughed out loud and this time playfully squeezed his forearm to feel the hard muscles beneath the camouflaged military jacket. “Strong,” she purred. “I do like them strong.”
Relaxing under the powerful ‘shine, Jak stroked her cheek. “Soft,” he whispered deep in his throat. “Like a flower petal.”
Lily smiled and removed the sweaty cloth around her neck, exposing a wealth of cleavage. “You have no idea,” she whispered.
“Hey, Lily!” called out a big bald man, stumbling from the dining tables. He banged his mug on the counter, cracking the plastic. “Stop fondling that stinking mutie and come serve a real man!”
A knife slid from his sleeve into his palm as Jak turned with an expression of white-hot anger. Dropping a tray, Cord grabbed his shotgun just in time to cover the dozen men as they rose from their tables, fisting a wide assortment of blasters.
“Everybody freeze!” Ryan thundered from the corner of the room as he loudly worked the bolt on his longblaster.
Chapter Three
“Nobody move!” J.B. added, working the bolt on his Uzi, the noise supernaturally loud in the room.
Silence reigned for several moments, the only sounds the gentle crackle of the fireplace and the thudding of human hearts.
The hill men waited, gauging their chances. Ryan and Krysty stayed motionless at the washroom door ready for the first killing move. Cord kept his blaster pointed at nobody in particular, prepared to chill whoever started the fight that would surely wreck his bar.
Inch by inch, Jak eased his knife forward until it was pressing against the neck of the bald man.
“What the?” he gasped, and darted a hand for his blaster. But there was only empty leather on his belt.
As slow as molasses, Lily pressed the barrel of the snub-nosed Police Special .38 wheelgun against his head. “Looking for this, Phillipe?” she said without apparent emotion.
His hand still reaching at his belt, the mercie curled a lip at the barmaid. “Fucking bitch,” he whispered.
Ruthlessly, Jak nudged his hand forward a hair, and blood began to well around the knife point buried in the man’s throat.
“Hey, you got me, I give. It was only a joke,” Phillipe said, forcing a smile as he raised his hands in surrender. “Just a joke.”
“You sure now?” Lily asked, clicking the hammer backward.
The table of mercies watched the scene closely. Ryan and the companions watched the mercies. Cord kept his eyes on his daughter.
Sweat beaded on Phillipe’s forehead, a rivulet of blood trickling into his dirty shirt. “A joke,” he repeated.
“Wouldn’t start a fight here. We’re drinking, for God’s sake! I was jazzing the kid. No harm done, right?”
Keeping her thumb tight on the spur, Lily eased down the hammer until the double-action was at rest. “Okay, then, Phillipe. Nobody could get insulted from just a joke. Right?”