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“Already said he wasn’t the target, just a weak link,” I was quick to remind her. “Anyway, thanks. Hit me up when you got something interesting to say,” I added before disconnecting the call.
Shit wasn’t making sense. Pretty boy was way too dumb to stay clean. Lacking street smarts and not so much a dull crayon fresh outta the box. Which meant it was unlikely he could avoid trouble for long. If he didn’t find it, it sure as fuck would find him.
He’d climbed into my van for fuck’s sake. I could only imagine the sort of shit he’d stumbled upon hanging out with Mulligan’s crew. The fact the guy was still breathing was a wonder—might even call it the luck of the Irish if I weren’t so sure that shit was an old wives’ tale.
If the Irish did have luck, Mulligan’s ran out a while ago… around the same time his nephew put a bullet in my head. Maybe it was just karma finally catching up with the slimy son of a bitch and what was left of his fucked-up gene pool. Or maybe this was God’s way of tellin’ me I should speed things up a bit.
My head was pounding, the fluorescent overhead lighting flickering as my vision came into focus. My eyes instinctively dropped to the time on my watch. It was 10 PM. I’d lost another two hours and I didn’t even know where the fuck I was.
This wasn’t good. Sure, losing time was nothing new. But part of my subconscious usually took over and I followed a routine, never ended up somewhere I didn’t recognize, doing God only knows what.
I choked down a deep breath and forced myself to take in my surroundings. I was in a… supply closet?
There was a row of industrial-style brown paper towels lined up on a shelf behind me, a mop bucket in the corner while the monogrammed cocktail napkins gave me the first real hint to my location. I was back at Mollies. With no clue as to how the fuck I got here.
The last thing I remembered was Laney’s call. A thought that had me patting down my leather jacket in search of my burner. It was nowhere to be found, the jacket or the phone, which meant I’d either left 'em behind or someone had taken 'em from me.Though the latter wasn’t likely, seeing as I didn’t spot any blood on my knuckles.I wouldn’t have given 'em up without a fight and my body didn’t feel any worse for the wear.
My hand was reaching for the knob, looking to make a quick escape from whatever bullshit I’d gotten myself into tonight, when the door flung open from the other side. Large hands pressed on my shoulders and forced me back a step as a figure crossed the threshold and closed us inside. It took me a second to recognize him, the throbbing behind my eyes making it difficult to focus.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” It was not the brightest thing to say but it was the only question that came to mind as I tried to regain my bearings.
“Here, as in inside this closet? Or here, as in at the club? 'Cause the answer to both is I workhere, Danica.”
I didn’t remember ever telling the fucker my name while the smirk he was presently wearing confirmed I hadn’t. Bastard looked way too proud of himself.
So I decided to change tack. “What do you want, Connor?”
He shrugged before taking two more steps forward, caging me against the back shelf. His breath mingling with mine so that I could almost taste him. “I could ask you the same thing, dollface, seeing as you’re the one who came here insisting on seeing me.”
“I did not.” The words sounded childish even to my own ears. But I couldn’t stop myself. I didn’t come here for him. I wouldn’t have, would I?
No, there had to be another explanation. A case, a file, money on the line. I just needed to try harder to remember.
Conner reached out, lifting my chin with his thumb while running his forefinger along my bottom lip. The tension in the air had my eyes drifting closed as he lowered his mouth to mineand whispered, “Oh, but you did, baby girl. Heard you were beggin’ for it too.”
10
TWENTY MINUTES PRIOR
“Yo, Mac.” O’Brien’s voice crackled through my earpiece.
“What’s up?” I called back.
It was a full moon, which meant it could be anything from a fight breaking out at the door to a bunch of dudes ODing in the bathroom. I wasn’t superstitious or into any of that tarot card and crystal crap Zeke’s baby sister was always goin’ on about, but shit was too constant to be unrelated. The crazies always came out when Mercury was in retrograde or whatever it was Annie called it.
“Some chick is asking—more like demanding to see you out front. She ain’t half-bad looking either.”
“What’s she look like?” I couldn’t help the smirk already tipping up the sides of my lips. Only two women would have balls enough to come to my job looking for me—the girl whose name I couldn’t get outta my head or my sister. And I didn’t have a sister.
“Small thing with a big attitude. A brunette.”
Looked like this particular crazy was mine.
“Keep an eye on her. I’ll be right there,” I responded through the light static.
“I’ll do ya one better and keep two on that ass.”
I could hear the fucker’s grin, and ground my teeth to stop myself from saying something I might regret on an open comm line.
