with high-end built-ins and furnishings. Behind a sleek mahogany desk sat a

woman in her midthirties, dressed in a beige pantsuit with a white blouse

underneath.

 

The big man looked at her. “He’s here about the bouncer job,” he said

derisively.

 

The woman stood. She looked to be about five-eight, slender with long blonde

hair that held far darker roots at the top of her head. “You have any

experience?” she asked.

 

Rogers nodded. “You’re a little small for that line of work. And a little old.”

“I can handle myself.” She came around the side of the desk and perched a hip on

it.

 

Rogers now saw that her heels bumped her height up several inches. Without them

she was really about five-five.

 

She said, “You former military? You look it.” “Something like that. I don’t want

to fill out any paperwork. And I prefer cash. If that’s a problem, I can leave

now.” “You don’t get to make the preferences,” said the big man. “She’s the

boss. She calls the shots.” Rogers rubbed the back of his head, the sensation

more a tingling than a pain. He looked up at the big man. “So why aren’t you the

bouncer? You’re big enough. The boss afraid you can’t cut it?” The man looked

ready to drive a fist right through Rogers’s face. “Where the fuck do you get