I stared at him, but he gave nothing away. I shook my head. “Nope. I don’t buy it.”
“Don’t buy it?” he repeated, his face slackening with astonishment. “What do you meanyou don’t buy it?”
“Exactly that! You like danger? What kind of bullshit line is that?”
His jaw clenched. “Careful, Barrett.”
I crossed my arms over my chest in a pugnacious gesture. “Careful? You’re nothing but careful, aren’t you, Flynn? Can’t let feelings or emotions get in the way. Wouldn’t want you to get the wrong idea and have you think you could ever trust me.”
I was being irrational. I knew it. But still…the more closed off he was, the more I wanted to chip away to get to the heart of him. I was worried he was already close to the heart of me.
“It’s not easy for me to trust people, and there are just some things I can’t tell you,” he replied.
I studied him. “We’re not talking about the casino and brothel anymore, are we?”
He shook his head.
“Do you think you’ll ever trust me?”
“I do trust you.”
“You do?”
“Aye. I’m trusting you to find out who’s selling drugs in my club.”
“That’s different and you know it.”
It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I wasn’t supposed to care about him. I wasn’t supposed to pine forhim.
“What is it you want from me?” he asked, exasperation finally creeping into his voice.
I couldn’t even hide my look of disappointment. “Nothing, Flynn. I don’t want anything from you.”
A night working in the busy club was exactly what I needed to keep my mind off Flynn and the stalemate fight we’d had a few days ago. I plastered on a smile and moved through the crowd, taking drink orders and dropping them off. Around ten that evening, a stacked, gorgeous blonde perched her perfect ass in Flynn’s otherwise empty booth. I frowned. I’d never seen Flynn sit with a guest in his booth—this woman was incredibly ballsy.
I went up to the service bar where Jake was busy shaking a cocktail for Chelsea’s ticket. “There’s someone in Mr. Campbell’s booth.”
“Describe her,” he said.
“Blonde. Tall. Big breasts. I thought only Mr. Campbell sat in that booth.”
He shrugged. “It’s probably Lana.”
“Lana?”
“Mr. Campbell’s girlfriend.”
I gripped the edge of the bar, suddenly feeling lightheaded.
The nerve of that guy! Did fidelity not mean a damn thing to him?
“Might want to mention her to Lacey,” Jake continued. “But in the meantime, I’d go over there and get her a drink. She’s not a very patient individual.”
Silently cursing Flynn Campbell and the fact that I was working the section with his booth, I maneuvered my way through the throng of people. Lana sat by herself, looking smug and regal.
“Good evening, ma’am,” I said to her.
She turned her head, looking me up and down through the sweep of her long lashes. “You’re new.”
