Page 66 of XO Karma

“A little mystery.” His lips quirk into a nauseating grin. “I appreciate that in a woman.”

“Maybe I just don’t like to talk much.”

“I like that even more.” Is this guy for real? Does he really think women like to be spoken to like this?

An hour passes of forced, painstakingly dull conversation, and he doesn’t make a single move towards my drink. Just when I think this request’s a bust and I’m going to call it a night, a familiar face walks in, brightening my mood.

If I can’t enact some karma, the least I can do is piss off my new buddy in crime.

23

ASTER

She thinks I haven’t noticed her yet. The way her long legs disappear under her dress. How it hugs her curves just right. That I’m not painfully aware of the idiot she’s shamelessly flirting with. I clocked Lily the second I entered Hell’s Bar. One frequency of her laugh, and my body was instantly attuned to her. Although I’m well aware the laugh was fake as fuck.

I’ve watched her enough to be sure she doesn’t know this guy from jack shit, and that greasy drunk idiot isn’t her type.

She’s up to something.

That’s the reason I’m still sitting on the opposite end of the bar, waiting for my own contact to arrive. I’ll deal with her after.

“Aster,” the familiar gruff voice says, and I turn to find Roger Lecher. One of the only contacts from my previous life that I still trust.

“Roger.” I gesture to the seat beside me. Holding up two fingers, I mouth, Two beers, to the bartender at the other end. “How’s Martha?” I ask, referring to his wife.

“She’s good.” He smiles warmly. “But I don’t think you called me for small talk.”

“Doesn’t mean I’m not interested in how the world’s best cobbler cook is doing.”

“I’d ask how you are, but you look like shit.”

“I’m wounded.” I place a hand on my chest, fully aware I’ve gotten about six hours of sleep in the past three days. Between the murder at the mansion, casing the place, and the child predator I took out last night, sleeping has been all but a distant memory. He cocks a salt and pepper brow, and I concede. “It’s been a rough few days.” Years. Decade.

Two beers are slid before us, and we clink them. Taking a swig, I search for Lily in my periphery. She and her little project have moved on to a makeshift dance floor between tables, and I fight to roll my eyes. Whatever game she’s playing, she’s doing a good job at it. I might not be convinced, but the guy sure is by that shit-eating grin he had when he caught me staring. The guy dances like he’s hula hooping. Who does he think he’s kidding?

Roger’s beer clinks against the bar, snapping me out of my fantasy to permanently carve the smile off her “date’s” face. “What do you need, Aster?”

Lowering my volume, I ask, “Do you know anything about the Westerfords?”

His brow shoots up in an instant, eyes turning serious. “Boy, please tell me you’re not tangled in anything with that family.”

My interest is immediately piqued. “Can you give me a reason why I shouldn’t be?”

He scratches at the label on the amber bottle. “How much time you got?”

My eyes find Lily, gaze homing in on the guy’s hands that are falling far too low for my liking. “Five minutes.” On the sixth I’ll be removing an appendage.

“So, the CliffsNotes version?” He scoots his stool closer, bringing his mouth near my ear. “The Westerfords are that rich family everyone knows, but no one wants to be in bed with.”

“Why?”

“Let’s just say, anyone who’s ever told them no didn’t say much of anything ever again.”

“How have they not gotten caught?”

He huffs a laugh. “Money. Power. Connections.” It seems to always boil down to those three words, doesn’t it? “What do you know about them?”

“That Jude’s dad, William, was the mayor of Cleosville years ago. After that he was governor. On track to take the White House before he died.”