Low Sided by A.J. Downey (best detective novels of all time txt) 📕

shelf locally distilled stuff back on one of the higher shelves of the bar. This particular bourbon was from out in Auburn. One of the local native tribes had started distilling and aging and it was one of the best bourbon’s the state had on offer. No one else could touch the simple fat round bottle with the orca whale on the label.

I turned around and stilled. One of the SHMC was sitting at my bar. One I vaguely recognized from the party the other night. The deeply dark black guy with the dreads… what was his name?

“Major, right?” I asked.

“Yes, ma’am.” He grinned like he was pleased I’d remembered.

“What can I get you?” I asked.

“Uhhh, how ‘bout an IPA – dankest you got.”

“One dank IPA coming right up,” I said and went to the tap to pull one for him. He slid onto a nearby barstool, looking around Shoreman’s and giving some of the regulars up the bar some side-eye. I turned back to the line of taps and smirked. I guess Mace getting his ass beat here had given the bar itself a sort of reputation.

I went over, laid down a cardboard coaster, and set down his beer.

“You want to open a tab?” I asked, and he shook his head and slid a ten across the bar.

“Keep the change,” he said, and I shook my head.

“I don’t need any charity. What’d Mace send you here for?” I asked and scraped my bottom lip between my teeth. “To see if I’m big mad still?”

“Mace didn’t send me,” he said. “Don’t get me wrong, I like Mace well enough, but I ain’t Cupid or his fuckin’ errand boy.”

“So why are you here?” I asked.

“For a dank IPA,” he said, grinning and taking another sip.

I rolled my eyes and moved up the bar, calling back over my shoulder, “Wave me down if you want another one.”

“For sure, for sure,” he called, and I got the distinct impression he was checking out my ass. I glanced back, frowning, and he gave me a shit-eating grin.

Yep. He had definitely been checking me out. Was that why he was here? Chum in the waters? Was Mace taking our break hard, and this guy thought he could sidle in?

Gross… so much for bros before hoes or whatever, I thought to myself as I went about my job, getting glasses to washing and working on other miscellaneous bar prep and cleanup. It was a busy night. The longshoremen had work again down at Terminal 5, the biggest terminal in the city – even if it was in service to an oil rig about to deploy up north into the waters around Alaska.

It had all sorts of Green Peace eco-warrior types up in arms and there were some uncomfortable times knowing what some of my Burner friends would think about me serving up drinks to what they would consider the enemy.

I wasn’t so hardcore. I realized that most of these men were caught up in the capitalism machine just trying to survive like I was, put food on the table for their families. It made me tired, but there were some things that, well, resistance was futile.

Like loving Mace… as hurt and as angry as I was, as upset as he made me… I loved him. Deeply. And I didn’t know how long I would be able to stay away or stand on principle. Still, what he’d done couldn’t stand without some kind of answer or consequence.

I was staying away from Angelica and my old life for a reason. To keep them safe, and I really hoped for their sake that Mace hadn’t somehow fucked that up.

Damn it.

“Yo, Raven!”

I looked down the bar and Major held up his empty glass scaled with the remnants of his beer foam.

Guess he did want another.

“Be right with you, honey!” I called and winced inwardly. I was in full bar-matron mode and hadn’t meant for the endearment – it was just habit. If Major was coming around to see if I were a suddenly eligible bachelorette, I didn’t want to give him any ideas. Not that he wasn’t nice to look at – oh, he was – he just didn’t strike me as my type. Wrong vibe, you know? Certain people you just vibed with and could tell, and I could tell we were on completely different wavelengths… plus, I had literally just broken up with Mace – hell, I hadn’t even broken up with him! I’d just said I needed a break which was true. I did.

The club and his life were somewhat overwhelming. Absolutely sure to draw law enforcement’s attention at points, and I wanted to stay as far off law enforcement’s radar as possible.

I got Major another beer and set the fresh glass in front of him, putting the other in the waiting rack to go in the washer. He watched me move, his gaze discerning as I moved with practiced rhythm, letting muscle memory practically carry me through the steps.

“So, why are you really here?” I asked after a moment.

“Why you think I’m here?” he shot back.

“Well, I sure as hell hope it’s not to hit on me,” I answered, tossing one of my long dreads from my freshly mended wig over my shoulder.

He grinned and winked at me as he said, “I thought about it, but you’re still Mace’s girl.”

I narrowed my eyes and asked, “What makes you say that?”

“Mace ain’t declared it quits yet, and Mace is the one with the final say on that. At least where the rest of us are concerned,” he said with a shrug.

I didn’t know if I liked the sound of that.

“Awfully misogynistic of you to say that, isn’t it?”

He gave an infuriating gallic shrug.

“Club life ain’t for the women. It’s for us,” he said succinctly.

And there was some of the heart of it. Adopting club life meant setting some of my feminism aside… not something I wanted to be parted with. I glared at Major, and he laughed.

“Don’t