He's A Magic Man (The Children of Merlin) (6 page)

“Hello there.” At her call, he turned around and waited patiently for her to approach.

Now she could make out the lettering on the larger boat’s prow. She could hardly get her breath.
The Purgatory.
How the hell had she known it was here? No asking around. No checking thirty marinas before she found the right one. She had just driven right to it. Drew swallowed. That was a little scary, but also exciting. Destiny. That was the only thing it could be. She was about to find the man who might change everything for her.

“Excuse me, sir,” she said breathlessly, without preamble. “Can you help me? I’m looking for someone.”

“You and everybody else this morning.” The old man emitted a kind of a
humphing
sound.

She smiled. She used one of her mother’s smiles. Warm, a little self-deprecating.
Really hard to refuse.
Drew knew that from personal experience. “But I promise to be nicer.”

That drew a chuckle from the old man. “Wouldn’t take much. Who you looking for?”

“He was on TV the other night. On that boat.” She nodded to
The Purgatory.

The old guy shook his head. “Just missed him. But he looks like he’s already got a girl.”

“Not St. Claire. I’m looking for the other guy. Big, in good shape from what I could see. Dark hair, olive skin....”

The chuckle again.
“It must be Dowser’s morning.”

“Dowser?”
The man who drew St. Claire’s anger.
Was that a first name or a last name?

“Guy who owns
The Purgatory
.” The old man nodded toward the bigger boat.

“Yes. Yes.
A ... a good-looking man.
Early forties maybe?”

“Thirty-six,” the old guy corrected her, spitting into the water off the pier. “But he lives hard. You don’t want to get mixed up with him.”

“Yes I do. Well, I mean I want to talk to him.” She could see the old man deciding he wasn’t going to tell her. “If you really don’t know where he is, I’ll just hang out here. He’ll come back if he owns the boat.”

The old man looked disgusted. He sighed and shook his head. “Headstrong girls these days.” His bright old eyes snapped back to Drew.
“Dowser’s having a bad day.
He’s probly up at O’Toole’s. But that ain’t a place for you.”

The place that had almost pulled her off the road.
Drew felt her eyes get wide before she got control of her expression. “Thank you, then. I’ll catch him at O’Toole’s.” It was good that her guy owned the boat. That gave her an excuse to approach him in the bar. She had no experience approaching guys. They’d always come to her.

“Better have 911 on speed dial, if you’re going in there.” The old man rubbed his beard as if the world just continued to surprise him as Drew walked back to her car.

This was getting more than a little scary.
Had she been so fascinated with that bar because the guy who’d been haunting her was in ther
e?
She didn’t really want to think about that. Or the fact that she’d have to brave those tough characters hanging around the door to find out. She’d grown up with brothers who were bigger than she was, so she thought she could hold her own with normal guys. But these probably weren’t normal guys. Her spike heels were small. Not much good as weapons. Did it matter? She’d come all the way across the country to find this guy. She wasn’t stopping now.

She pulled the Toyota as far off the road as she could and got out. There were no curbs or sidewalks here. She took a breath and walked across the street. The men’s eyes raked her body. There were four. Dirty tee shirts, scuffed biker boots.
Lots of chains hanging out of pockets.
The black guy had a Rolex watch. Either a knockoff, or he’d knocked somebody off to get it.

“You lost, sweetheart, or just
slummin
’?” one with extremely close-cropped hair asked.

“I’m looking for someone.” Drew put on her most damping tone.

“I bet she’s looking for me, Danny.” The guy had tattoos, even on his face.

Drew looked him over as she pushed through them toward the door. “I think... not.”

“How about me?” the guy with almost no hair called Danny asked.

“Definitely not,” she said as she left their laughter behind.

They might be laughing, but she could feel them coming in behind her and that sent shivers down her spine. Their big bodies blocked the light from the open door. The whole place felt like invisible electric sparks were careening around in the air. Was it from fear, or was it some kind of magic she felt?

The bar was so dark she couldn’t get her bearings at first. It smelled of cheap alcohol and old cigarette smoke. Fans whirred overhead, but apparently
the
owners couldn’t afford air conditioning. The place was still sticky warm. She heard the click of billiard balls. Yeah, there was a table under a swinging light in the back. Her eyes began to adjust. The bar itself was little more than rough planks worn smooth by elbows over the years, set on large barrels. The bartender was a big guy, but gone to seed with thinning gray hair. He was idly polishing glasses. He wasn’t too particular on streaks. As he turned to her, he stopped in mid-swipe. Pretty much everybody else stopped what
they
were doing too and turned to look. Jeez. She was sorry her watch wasn’t a knockoff and her simple jewelry was worth a fair amount of money with the price of gold these days. That wasn’t even counting the emeralds in the ring. They weren’t huge and no one here would know they were first quality, but still. There were only two other women in the bar. And they didn’t look like her. One, plump and sagging, had menopause-red hair, and one was rail thin. Her hand shook as she raised her glass.

The bartender moved toward Drew. “Can I do something for you?”

He sounded like he thought she was selling something. “I’ll have a ... scotch.” She slid onto the nearest stool. Did a place like this have scotch? Everybody seemed to be drinking beer. The bartender bent down to get a bottle, giving her a clear view of the other end of the bar.

Everything and everyone in the bar faded away. Her guy was sitting at the far end. He wore a black tee shirt with some red lettering on it. It bulged over his biceps. He was really muscled, much more impressive in person than on TV. She slid off the stool, drawn around the bar toward him. He was the only one in the place who wasn’t looking at her. His hair was disheveled, curling in black waves with some gray streaks at the temples. It hadn’t been cut in a while. His stubble had a little gray in it too. He tossed back a shot of some golden brown liquid.

He slammed the shot glass down on the bar. “Gimme ’
nother
one, Al.” The words were slurred. He was really drunk. Drew frowned. Now that her eyes had fully adjusted, she could see that his face was puffy around the eyes. This guy couldn’t have reached across a continent to her and raised her powers. He couldn’t reach across the bar for his own drink if he was dying of thirst. Which he
wasn’t.
He looked to be very well lubricated.

“Hold on, Dowser. I’m getting a scotch for the lady,” Al called.

“I need ’
nother
one now.” The voice was a baritone growl. Between that and the muscles, he looked like a guy
you
wouldn’t want to mess with. If he could stand up, that is.

“Relax. Another minute won’t get you sober,” Al the bartender said.

Drew’s heart was doing
Riverdance
in her chest as she slid up on the barstool next to him. He smelled like booze and sweat. But that didn’t stop her reaction to him. She had a hard time getting her breath. Maybe he’d be okay if he were cleaned up. Sober. Like he had been on TV. Suddenly she remembered that he’d stumbled while Brandon St. Claire was talking to the interviewer, and two guys had helped him up.

Maybe this drunk wasn’t a one-time thing.

Underneath the drunk, he sure was a looker. His shoulders were huge. His eyes were such a dark brown they looked black. And there was a pain in those eyes that booze couldn’t erase. She’d never seen anyone who looked that damaged. Damaged equaled trouble. But she couldn’t just turn around and walk out. She’d come all the way from LA just to find him. And she had, just like it was her destiny drawing her forward. “Your name is Mr. Dowser?”

She heard sniggers behind her.

“Just Dowser,” he muttered, staring regretfully into his empty glass.

The bartender slid her scotch across the bar to her. “Seven bucks.”

“I’ll run a tab,” Drew said without looking at him. She had eyes only for the cheekbones, the dark eyes,
the
sensuous lips of her TV guy.

“She’ll run a
tab.
” A guy down the bar barked a laugh.

Oops. She couldn’t even offer a credit card to hold the tab open. And this wasn’t exactly the Polo Lounge. Oh, well. Brazen it out. “You can put Mr. Dowser’s next drink on it,” Drew said, and now she stared down the bartender. She’d learned that particular look from her father.

The bartender raised both hands in surrender. Drew turned her attention back to her quarry. “I’d like to hire your boat.”

“She wants to hire the boat,” Dower repeated to no one in particular. Then he shook his head. “Can’t. Can’t hire the boat.”

“Why not?” Drew was surprised. The guy obviously needed money. His jeans were frayed and the tee shirt, which she could now see said “Jake’s Dock and Dive” on it, had seen better days. The rumpled khakis and white shirt of the TV shoot were Sunday best compared to what he wore now.

“Boat’s already hired. Going out to find treasure.”

“I think you were supposed to be doing that this morning.”

Dowser looked up at her, blinked twice. “Oh, yeah.” He shrugged.

“Mr. St. Claire wants you Thursday morning instead. I overheard him,” she explained. “That will give you time to ... uh ... rest up. I could hire the boat after that. Say ... Friday?”

“Nope.”

“Why not? I can pay.” Drew realized she wasn’t used to being refused. The bartender filled Dowser’s shot glass from a bottle labeled as rum. Jamaican.

“Won’t need money for a while after St. Claire pays me,” he slurred. “So. No boat.”

“Don’t you put money away for a rainy day?” Now Drew was really getting annoyed.

Dowser threw back the shot. The way his Adam’s apple moved in his strong neck did something to Drew that she’d never really felt before. Not like that. That direct.
That strong.
“Nope,” he said, and slapped down the empty shot glass. “’
Nother
, Al.”

Drew turned to Al and raised her eyebrows. This guy should not be served more alcohol. Al unscrewed the bottle cap and poured him another. “Wow, responsible drinking not exactly a priority here,”
Drew
muttered.

Al half chuckled under his breath. “Dowser’s here all day, every day, miss. He’s only about three-quarters gone right now.”

Drew turned to Dowser. “Maybe you’ve had enough.” She heard Al chuckle behind her.

Dowser rounded on her and his eyes, though still swimming, got more serious. He looked her over, seeming to register her for the first time. “Why are you here, little girl?”

Little girl
?
“I’m not a little girl,” she gritted out. “And I’m here to hire your boat.”

“
Lotsa
boats in the Keys. Why mine?” He paused. Drew didn’t really know how to answer him. So he continued for her. “Too late in the year for spring break, college girl.”

“I ... I’m not a college girl.”

“Sure you are,” he said, turning back to his drink. “And you saw the TV show, didn’t you?” Drew turned away. “And you thought maybe you’d get some fast sex and a boat ride from a guy who’d been on TV.” He sipped his drink this time. “Well, you’re pretty good looking. I’ll give you some of what you need and a boat ride for free. You don’t even have to pay for it.”

This
was the man she’d thought was her destiny? Fury boiled up. She hauled off and slapped the jerk as hard as she could. His head snapped to the side.

“Ow!” Dowser rubbed his cheek.

“Well,
lookee
that.”

Drew heard movement behind her, but she didn’t care. She stood there, shaking in front of the biggest disappointment of her life. Roger
paled
in front of this character. “I’m not your usual trash,” she hissed through clenched teeth.

“This one’s got spunk,” said another voice.

A chill went up her spine. Drew realized she should be paying attention here. She turned. The four from outside had given up watching from a distance and had sauntered up behind her.

CHAPTER FOUR

“Looks to me like she needs a lesson,” said the guy with the facial tattoos.