Page 89 of Duty

This distraction …

She just wished—

Haven’s thought process dropped off midstream as a buzzing sensation skimmed over her body. It was like static crawled over her skin while butterflies beat in her stomach. She knew exactly what caused that strange reaction damn near instantly.

The crowd swelled, and moved closer to the stage while the DJ announced the next act—Valeria. Still, Haven couldn’t find him. She looked, but she found nothing.

A sea of faceless people.

It had to be him, though.

Andino.

He was the only fucking thing that made her feel alive just by walking into a room. She didn’t have to see him for that reaction to be the same. Two months later, and he still managed to do that to her.

So, where was he?

• • •

“Haven,” one of the three servers said as she came up to the bar, “drink order for table fifteen.”

“Thanks, I’ll have it for you—”

“No, they requested you serve it.”

Haven hesitated on taking the slip from the girl’s hand. “Me?”

Talia nodded. “That’s what they want.”

Ugh.

It wasn’t uncommon for a regular—or even someone Haven knew personally outside of the club—to request she be the one to serve their drinks when they were sitting at a table. Mostly, they just wanted to say hello, or have her sit down with them to have a drink.

Nothing big.

Except tonight was busy.

She really couldn’t afford to be away from the bar for too long, but she also didn’t want to offend a regular or a friend, either. What could she do?

Oh, yes.

Learn to tell people no.

Tonight was not the night when she learned how to do that, though. Lucky for whoever it was that wanted their drink served by her personally.

Haven pointed at the server before the girl could turn away, and go back to taking orders from the floor. “You can pour a shot, and figure out which beer is which, right?”

Talia shrugged. “Yeah, but that’s about all I can do.”

“That’s all you need to do for ten minutes. Any special drinks, and you direct them down the bar. Cover my spot, thanks.”

Haven quickly poured the three fingers of scotch that Talia had scratched on the drink order, grabbed two napkins from under the bar, and headed out on the floor to find table fifteen. She knew which table was which—fifteen was the table closest to the furthest stage at the far end of the club. A single person table meant for one, and not for more.

A group of guys got up from a table Haven was passing, causing her to step wide to the side in order to keep out of their way and save the drink in her hand at the same time. They hadn’t even seen her coming—no wonder, considering how full the club was at the moment—and she hadn’t seen them getting up until it was too late.

One gave her a smile. “Sorry.”

“No worries.”