“They go at it long?” I ask, and she shrugs. I get it, she doesn’t want to betray her friend, but this was fucking bullshit.
“She’s been fighting with her over the phone for days.”
“Keep an eye on it. I don’t want any more of this shit around.” Amber nods and starts wiping counters as I walk away.
Brute waits for me in his office and waves me over when our eyes lock. “Got control of this shit now?”
“Hey, man, we let the girl go when Trista threw her first fit. Had no idea the mother was coming in hot.” Raising my hands, I shut the door before sitting in a chair across from him.
“Women have a way of holding onto crap like this,” he grumbles. “Logan still in town?”
“Working at Euphoria,” I respond. He whistles. “Yeah, not exactly thrilled with her choice.” But I can see why they’d hire her. She’s got curves in all the right places, an innocent aura surrounding her, and the most fuckable lips I’ve ever seen.
“You sound like you have a choice in the matter.” Fuck. I hadn’t meant to give myself away.
Shrugging, I dodge. “Viking should be back tomorrow. We still renovating Skinny Dick’s for your pops?”
Brute snorts but doesn’t call me on my shit. “Yeah, lumber and drywall is being delivered day after tomorrow. Prospects are helping Miami and Free tear shit apart.”
The building is the same as it’s been since it opened forty or so years ago, so it’s due for a reno, but we don’t trust any of the contractors around to do it.
“Great, we’ll be ready to help where needed. I have a job next week, should only take a night to do, then I’ll be back at it.”
Getting to my feet, Brute dismisses me, and I have the urge to go look in on Logan again. Seeing that it’s after one in the morning, she’s likely at home now, so there wouldn’t be a point. Instead, I shoot Viking a text, telling him we need to talk when he gets home. There’s no response, which isn’t unusual.
After tossing my empty beer bottle into a bin, I head up to shower the filth of dealing with Trista and her mother off in a hot fucking shower while thinking about Logan on her knees with my cock between those thick lips.
Chapter 4
Logan
“Daisy. Daisy. Fucking Daisy!”
I spin towards the voice, forgetting I gave a fake name when I applied at Euphoria, so most of the employees probably think I’m an idiot.
“Sorry, music,” I mutter to Carl, the owner behind the bar, as I walk past. His sleazeball mustache makes it hard to take him seriously.
“Take these drinks to table fourteen.”
Memorizing the table numbers wasn’t as hard as I’d worried it would be; remembering to check the bar for orders was the difficult part. Euphoria has tablets at each table so patrons can order at will. We just have to pick them up when we’re waved over.
Balancing the tray on my palm and shoulder, I carry the two jugs of beer and eight frosted glasses to a table of rowdy men, already annoyed by their thought that they can touch me.
“Gentlemen, another round?” I paste on a smile and keep up the façade, when all I want to do is go to the crappy motel I found to rent. Great tips are what’ll save me.
Placing the tray on the table, I ignore the hand gliding up the back of my thigh as I pour the beer into their cups and pass them out. Once one of my hands frees up, I push the one away that’s getting too close to the bottom of my ass.
“No touching,” I tease when all I want to do is bash the glass over his head.
“Aw, come on, Daisy, won’t you dance for us?” He winks, and they all start in.
“Sorry, boys, I was born with two left feet and zero rhythm. You’ll have to enjoy the beauties on the stage.” And the girls are gorgeous, they’re just not as accessible as we servers.
They grumble but accept my words at face value. I can dance; in fact, I love to, just not for an audience.
As I wander back to the bar to collect another order, a face flashes in the club lights before disappearing. The blood freezes in my veins.
He can’t be here. He’s never been to Gulfport; there’s no reason for him to be here.
