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Son of a…
I stared up at his strong jawline through a fan of black lashes while allowing the strain to prick my eyes. It didn’t take more than a few seconds for the bullshit tears to fall without thought. “You don’t understand… he’s in there… and if I don’t bring him home… I need him home. He’s… my brother is the only one who can talk Papa down when he’s been drinking…”
I watched as pretty boy’s features softened, as his posture seemed to relax.“I… are you being serious?”
“Fuck no!” was my response as my already damaged fist made contact with his glass jaw.
It was cliché but the big ones always did fall the hardest—the force of gravity and all that.
Onlookers gasped and cooed but not one of 'em stepped forward to intervene when the glorified door guard toppled tothe ground. I smiled. It was always the same. That was the one constant you could count on. People and their cowardice.
The combination of strobing lights and overused bass along with the noxious odor of perspiration that made up the VIP room at Mollies was the thing of my nightmares. And far worse than any bogeyman I could conjure up.
At most, I had a few minutes to lock eyes on my mark before: one, the bouncer came to or two, the son of a bitch manning the security cameras called out “man down” and recognized some asshat had let a Rossi into a Mulligan club. Either option was an inconvenience I just didn’t have the patience for tonight.
My head was still pounding from the altercation this morning—I really should have passed off this case. But my work was like a drug and I needed a fix. A distraction. Liquor and faceless sex just weren’t doing it for me anymore.
Shocking, I know.
I glanced down at my watch and let out an exasperated huff.I had to make this shit quick. In and out like a short dick on prom night.And recited the profile for one John Porter.
Thirty-four-year-old male: shaved head, generic tribal tattoos (bilateral arms) and an eyebrow piercing (left).
Call sign: Douche with a side of mommy issues.
Okay, I might have made up that last part but it was fitting nonetheless.
Ticktock, Dani Girl, you ain’t getting any younger.
“Here, kitty, kitty,” I purred among the waves of body odor and pheromones as my eyes scanned the room before honing in on their target.
Two minutes in, and it was almost as if the mugshot had jumped off the folded piece of paper and materialized in front of me, an arm slung along the bar top and six empty beer bottles acting as witness to the fucker’s misplaced masculinity.
“Long time no see, lover boy,” I hummed, dropping the instinctual edge that tended to pleat my voice.
“Aren’t you a sweet little thing?” His grin curled like something out of a horror flick, his eyebrows so narrow they looked drawn on. Like he woke up that morning and decided that today was the day he was gonna take on the world with his sister’s leftover lip liner.
“Oh, Johnny, Johnny, Johnny.” I cocked my head as I sidled up next to Mr. Mommy Issues on the empty barstool and skimmed my mouth along the arch of his ear, trying not to choke on the punch of stale cigarettes and cheap liquor that assaulted my nostrils with each forced inhale. “Five minutes. Meet me out back.” It wasn’t a request and the sick bastard liked it.The male species really had no chance of survival if the sons of bitches didn’t start thinking with the larger of their two heads.
I didn’t hesitate before beelining it for the neon EXIT sign. My steps fast. But not so fast they’d raise suspicions.Do not look back. Do not stand out.I needed to remain just another silhouette in the swarm of buzzing partygoers.
I pushed out the door, my cheeks immediately slapped by the crisp night air at the same time I glanced down to see the pointer finger and thumb clasp around my wrist and drag me to the side of the building.
Well, ain’t that a bitch?Looks like someone’s mama blessed him with chiseled featuresanda quick recovery time.A double threat if I ever saw one.
“Miss me so soon?” I grinned. Because fuck if I didn’t like pushing buttons just because I could.
“Not so fast, dollface…” This time pretty boy’s endearment was a little less, well,endearingas he yanked me backwards and against the bite of the cold brick wall that lined the alleyway.
“When you say doll, what are we talking about here? 'Cause you know there’s a difference between Precious Moments and the Bride of Chucky.” I tapped my chin with my free hand while puckering my lips and biting the inside of my cheek.
“More like fucking Annabelle.” It was clear his tone was meant to straighten my spine, but the fucker’s play at having brass balls only had me raising an eyebrow instead.
“The cinematic version or the good old-fashioned Raggedy Anne doll?”
“Enough with the games.”
“Games? Yeah, you’re not exactly my type when it comes to playing.” I smirked. “I’m just trying to determine exactly how condescending you’re lookin’ to be right now. But it seems your ego is just as fragile as your jaw.”
