Fur Rivers, Louisiana.
It all began on a cold, blistering, chilling night in January. The time was past nine. The moon - just sliding out comfortably from behind the fluffy clouds - was big and white like the face of a dead man.
As Selena Charlton stepped out of her house, a gust of cold, cutting wind, swirled to where she stood, and washed over her. She shivered as she rubbed her hands together, grateful for the thick sweatshirts she had worn. She waited for some moment, staring up at the sky, her eyes raveling at the size of the moon and how white it looked. Then she drew in a long, slow breath and began to make her way to the town’s bar which was just a few blocks away from her house.
The bar was one of the oldest buildings in the town of Fur Rivers. It was owned by a man named Sam Wesley who was her adopted father. Selena drops in once in a while to help Sam run the bar, especially during those times he had to cope with the rush of the patrons. For this, Sam pays her some wages and because he doted on her so much, he sometimes overpays her. Due to some certain reasons – if he had a choice – he wouldn’t allow Selena to even go near the bar but she always has a way of getting things done her way.
That night, Selena sauntered into the bar and looked around. The patrons were still all there. Laughing, giggling, cheering whistling boisterously.
As she walked over to the bar, some of the men in the room regarded her, their drunk, leery eyes stripping her luscious body, inch by inch, curves by curves. The men whistled. And there were some catcalls. Some men leered at her, sardonic, predatory expressions on their faces. None of them made the move to talk to her.
They were like most drunk, sex-starved, perverted men; all mouth and no balls.
Selena ignored them all. She got to the bar, pulled out a stool and sat on it. Sam – with a leather -worn face, white shock of hair, strong, wiry hands and arranging some wines in the wine shelves – swung around when he heard movements behind him. His old, tired stricken face creased into a warm smile when he saw Selena. “Hello there, cupcake,” he said. grinning. “When I heard the boys and their damned laughter, I should have known.”
“Those lousy fools,” Selena said, shrugging indifferently. “They are always like that and they would always be like that. Seriously, I don’t give a damn about what they think of me.”
Sam studied her beautiful, well accentuated face and shook his head. What a raving virago, he thought proudly. Aged twenty three, Selena was a brunette with a long, glossy hair, high-breasted body, full solid hips, long legs, violet eyes that shone like emeralds, luscious, soft lips that promises paradise and a face that reflected deep sensitivity: a face that was ready to smile, laugh or frown.
“You know they do have a point,” Sam continued, his eyes gentle and affectionate. “You know that don’t you?”
“No they don’t!” Selena seethed out. “But I don’t care, dad. As long as you are here, I feel safe. I know you’ll protect me. That’s why I’ll always keep coming here. And no one dares stop me!”
Sam shook his head, a resigned expression on his face.
"Selena, you are a tough girl and quite stubborn too. For a man like me, protecting someone your age can be tricky," he said, eyeing the rowdy men nearby. "It's not safe for a pretty young lady like you to be here tonight. We agreed you'd only come on busy days when things are calmer. Nights like this, with the men all rowdy, it's risky," he explained, gesturing helplessly. "Imagine a room full of drunk men and one beautiful girl. You know what could happen, right?" He looked at her, his gray eyes full of concern.
Selena shrugged indifferently.
“I don’t know, dad,” She said blandly. “I only came here to cool off and see you. Now, give me a gin, dad. Straight up! And don’t you think of refusing me one.”
Sam shook his gray head resignedly.
“A tough one, Selena. A tough one, that’s what you are.” He said again. He picked up a bottle of Vodka, sloshed the drink into a glass and gave it to her. She picked up the glass and downed the drink.
The drink sent a shiver down Selena's spine, then warmed her up. She handed the glass to Sam for a refill. He looked at her with a resigned expression but poured her another. Sam had known Selena since she was little; her mom, Liza, and he were close friends. Rumor had it that Selena's father was a tall, powerful looking drifter who swept into town, charmed Liza, got her pregnant, and disappeared. Liza didn't talk much about him, but some town folks knew the whole story. When Liza fell ill and passed away, Sam took in six-year-old Selena, cared for her like his own, and eventually adopted her. With Fur Rivers being a slow thriving, no jobs town with few opportunities, Sam gave Selena weekly allowances to help her get by after she finished high school.
Just as he was fixing the drink, the door of the bar pushed forcefully open and two men in black overcoats walked into the bar. Both men were tall and powerfully built.
Their black hats were well put down over their faces. Almost abruptly, the noise in the bar went down a notch and a cold silence that you could hang a hat on descended on the room. The men in the room stared hard at the two strangers as they both strolled........side by side...... leisurely to the bar. They both pulled out a stand and sat down heavily. They did not look at Selena who was staring at them, an aloof look on her face.
One of them said to Sam.
“Tequila on the rocks! Double! And fast!” His voice was hard and roughened.
Sam nodded, moistened his lips with his tongue, went on to fix the drink, served them and edged away to a corner of the bar. He went on cleaning the glasses but every now and then he stole a quick glance at the two black clad men.
By now, the noise of the bar had resumed, but some of the men continued to watch the two strangers......it was as if they were expecting something to happen.
One of the strangers turned his head. His eyes caught Selena who was watching what Sam was doing keenly. He whistled under his breath and licked his lips. His name was Conan. He regarded her for a long moment, then he turned to his other partner and whispered in his ears.
The other man named Helldog dragged his eyes to Selena. He studied her for a moment then he winked his eyes at his partner. Conan gave a hard smile, brought out a pack of cigarettes from his pockets, shook out one, stuck it into his mouth, brought out a lighter, cupped his hand around the cigarette and lit it. While he was doing all these, his eyes never left Selena. He drew in smoke, let it out in a long spiral to the ceilings and edged his stool closer to her.
“Whatcha doing here, pumpkin?” His voice was soft and yet there was undefinable steel in it.
Selena had heard him alright. But she pretended as if she had not heard what he had said.
Conan watched her, knowing that she had heard him and hating her immediately for ignoring him.
“Are you deaf or something?” the softness in his voice was gone now. “I’m talking to you, woman!” his voice sounded like a whiplash.
Selena turned slowly in her seat. Her cold eyes moved over Conan's clothing and dusty black boots and back to his face. Then she smiled. It wasn’t a nice one.
“I don’t know who you are, mister, but I believe my business ain’t your business! Mind your business and stay the hell away from mine.” her eyes were cold as two pellets of ice.
Anger jumped into Conan' eyes.
“Such a spitfire huh? Your mouth sure needs some fixing! I’ll be willing to fix it.” He was staring hard at her now. He took off his hat and sat it on the table gently.
Selena was taken aback. Staring right at her, were two yellow embers of eyes that sent a prickling sensation up her spine despite herself. She could see – now that he wasn’t wearing a hat – that his mouth was curved into a tight snarl and his face was lean, hard and almost wolfish. Actually...it was hungrily, wolfish.