Page 34 of Dirty Dealers


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I pull back to study her face, and she isn’t smiling. “You never told me where you went. Where did you live when you were in the States?”

She shrugs. “I was along the coast. You have to be when you’re working in shipping.”

“So New York?” She certainly looks like something you’d see walking Fifth Avenue. “California?”

“I wish it was somewhere that glamorous,” she smiles. Still, it doesn’t reach her eyes. “I was stuck in south Florida. Stripped down Ft. Lauderdale to be exact.”

A flash goes off in my chest, and for a moment I pause, holding her. “Did you fly out of Miami?” I ask, thinking about Freddie’s presumption. The second associate.

She nods. “It’s the closest international airport.”

“Alone?” I press. I have to be sure before I go back and tell them we’re good. Blix is only traveling with one new associate.

Her head tilts to the side. “These are odd questions.” Her eyes blink as they drift around my face. “Of course I traveled alone.”

I’m simultaneously relieved and alarmed by her proximity to that bastard, even if she had no idea. I don’t want her within inches of him. My decision is final. I’ll discuss her with Rowan and Freddie tomorrow. I’ll ID her as the fourth Miami passenger, and we’ll figure out a plan to keep her safe.

“Are we going to the café?” she asks, and I can tell she’s surveying my body language as much as I am hers.

“Yes,” I turn in the seat as she holds my arm, climbing on behind me. “I think we both need a drink.”

“Not too much for me,” she says, leaning forward so her lips graze the skin of my neck right at the back of my collar. The sensation registers straight to my dick.

“We might have to make a little pit stop along the way,” I turn to kiss those lips. “I’ve missed you.”

Her smile grows, but so does the distance in her eyes. “Even after last night?”

“Especially after last night.”

She gives me a nudge. “Let’s check in with Cam first and maybe we can leave early.”

I like the sound of that, although the smell of rain in the air is growing stronger. I’m concerned I might have to cab her back before our date is over. As much as I’m committed to keeping my word to Rowan, to keeping Ava safe, I’m frustrated at not being able to stay with Kass tonight. Now that I have her in my arms, I never want her leaving them.

With a roar of the engine, we shoot off into the night, headed to the little café down by the waterfront. It takes a matter of minutes to arrive at our destination. Everywhere in town is close enough to walk, but I love the feel of Kass behind me on the bike, her body pressed close to mine and her arms tight around my waist.

They’re just finishing a song when we walk in. Our names are on the list at the door, so we don’t have to pay the cover charge. Still, I give the doorman twenty Euros. Kass is focused on the front where her brother sits on a stool between two other guys all playing guitars and harmonizing.

It’s been years since I’ve seen Cameron, but I recognize the kid I met six years ago. He’s grown into a good-looking guy. He shares a family resemblance to Kass. They both have those vivid blue eyes only his complexion is darker. He’s got the rock-star hair hanging to his shoulders, and all the swagger of a front-man.

Kass made it sound like he was just getting started in the music business, but an appreciative band of females swaying on the dance floor directly in front of him makes me think he’s been at it longer than his sister knows. With every smile, his groupies swoon, and I can’t help wondering how much of what’s happening Kass is able to perceive.

She’s standing at the edge of the tables, where a wooden railing parts over a short staircase leading down to the open floor. I step up behind her and place my hand on her waist. She does a little jump, then relaxes into me. I don’t like how tense she is tonight.

“I told him this was a bad idea,” she says, turning her face to speak close to my ear. “I’ll have to apologize. He’s very good. It sounds like he has a fan club.”

She nods toward the front, and I smile. “He’s got a small mob of females hanging on his every word.”

“That’s good.” Her tone is resignation, and I try to understand. Is she feeling some form of empty nest syndrome? Is she sad her little brother is not so little anymore? It seems unlikely.

For a moment we listen to his rich baritone singing a popular song I recognize. His voice is strong and full, and he’s not a bad guitarist. When he gets to the part about having his heart broken, a pair of thong panties flies on the stage at his feet, and I can’t help a chuckle.

“What happened?” Kass turns to me, confused. “Why are you laughing?”

“Your little brother is causing panties to fly.”

“What?” She’s still confused, and I decide to spare her the details in case she is feeling nostalgic. “Would you like a drink?”

She considers my question far longer than it deserves. “Maybe just a soft drink for now.”

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