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Wednesday—tomorrow.
I tilt my glass at him in appreciation. “Thanks.”
His gaze narrows. “If you fuck with her—”
“I know.” I should laugh. If the threat had come from anyone else, I would.
“You do right by her. Even if she isn’t interested in what you’ve got to offer.”
“I will.” The lies come easily. They always have.
I throw back the remaining liquid, then slide the glass toward him. “Thanks for the drink.” I stand, leaving the bills on the counter.
“Take the money with you. You left more than enough earlier.”
“Keep it for next time. I have a feeling we’ll be seeing more of each other.”
He chuckles. “Only if you’re lucky.”
“Yeah.” Or more specifically, if she’s unlucky.
I walk outside, unable to help myself as I glance at the building across the street. The third-floor window. I expect to see her there, watching, waiting, and I’m ashamed to admit I’m disappointed she isn’t.
She thinks the game is over. That the hook-up failed, and we’ve gone our separate ways.
In reality, our time together has just begun. The two of us are going to get to know one another, whether she likes it or not. And that’s not my fault. It’s all on her—her decisions, her actions. Her damn sassy mouth.
I continue along the road, down the side street, to my car. I climb in and snatch my phone from the glove compartment.
Three missed calls, all from Decker, but he’s not the person I need to speak to first.
I dial Torian, and I’m not surprised when he doesn’t answer. The fucker would be sleeping like a baby while I worked. His voicemail cuts in, and the beep sounds without a welcome message.
“Hey, Torian. There’s been a complication.” I swallow over the bitter taste of temporary failure. “It means a slight delay in the timeline, but I’ll call once I’m done.”
I hang up, knowing he won’t give a shit about details, and call Decker.
“Where the fuck are you?” he demands in greeting. “You were supposed to check in over an hour ago.”
“There was a change of plan.”
“What change?”
“A snag with the job. I had to follow a lead.”
“You’re not a fucking detective. You do your job, get the hell out of there, then call me.”
I start the ignition and do a U-turn, going in the opposite direction of where I need to be. “You worried about me, pumpkin?”
“Stressed,” he growls. “I was stressed. Big difference.”
“That’s cute, Deck. Real cute.” I creep my car to the intersection and glance up at her building. Her window. She’s there, standing to the side of the frame, trying to remain out of view as she peers down at the bar.
My dick pulses, and I’m not sure I even know what I want from her anymore. I should go back up there and finish what I started. I should end this tonight.
But I can’t force this. For once, I don’t want to.
“Fuck you, Hunt.” He snaps my nickname, making it sound like a curse. “So, you’ve quit working for the night? Is this you calling to punch your card?”
“No. I haven’t started.” I shouldn’t give a shit that she’s up there waiting for a glimpse of me, but I do. I shouldn’t want to draw her attention, but I itch to do that, too. “I only called because I need you to do a background search on someone.”
“You haven’t started? You checked out hours ago. What the fuck is going on?”
“Focus.” It’s a warning to us both. I tear my gaze from her silhouette and turn onto her street, driving away from her building. “The name is Stephanie. She lives at apartment nineteen, level three, six-five-nine Belldore Street.” I pause, waiting for confirmation that doesn’t come. “Did you get all that?”
“All that? You haven’t given me much to go on.”
“It’s enough. Once you start digging, you’ll find more.” He always does.
“And what am I digging for, exactly?”
“Anything and everything.” I want it all. I need it all. “And make sure you get started right away.”
“Yeah, I got it.”
“I mean tonight, Decker. Now. This is your main priority.”
“Why? What happened?”
She happened. Long hair, slim legs, sassy blue eyes, and ruby lips I want stretched around my dick. And they are only the physical attributes. I know once I delve into that mind of hers, the fucked-up shit I find will be even more impressive. “It’s nothing you need to worry about.”
“Right.” He huffs. “I don’t need to worry at all.”
“It’s just stress, remember?”
“You know, it’s no coincidence your nickname rhymes with cunt.”
I grin. “I’ll call you when I’m done.”