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Did I just compare Sam to Vic? God, I did.

Brin swung a rag over her left shoulder. “PeaPuffers are in Toronto this weekend playing at Avalanche, and Garret broke his leg biking down the mountain.” Garret was a country solo artist and was good. Too good to be playing in a bar. “Christ, the one night the boss is coming in. Probably why the wanker called in. Pussy was afraid he’d get shot if he went off pitch.”

I stiffened. Whoa. What? “Callum James is coming here tonight?” All I could think about was Addie’s words: “Vic tried to kill him.”

And I was living at Vic’s cabin. Crap. Okay, it’s not like Callum would be talking to me. And besides, I would likely be out of Vic’s cabin in a week, so it wouldn’t matter, right? I’d just keep my head down and he wouldn’t even notice me.

“Yeah, he should be here soon. He said six, and the boss is never late.”

I glanced at the clock above the bar. Two minutes to six. Shit. “Umm, so, does he know you hired me?” And did you tell him where I was living?

“He knows.”

He knows? That’s it?

She moved off down the bar, saying over her shoulder, “And don’t say ‘please’ in front of him. He’ll fire your ass.”

He’d fire me for saying “please”?

Brin slapped her palm on the counter in front of Hunchback Dave at the far end of the bar. He earned the nickname because he always hunched over his drink. “Another?”

Dave didn’t say anything or lift his head. He merely tapped his fingers on the bar top. She seemed to know what that meant, because she scooped ice into a tumbler, then grabbed a bottle from the glass shelf on the wall. She poured dark amber liquid into the glass, and the ice crackled and clanked.

She slid the glass down the mahogany bar top. Dave didn’t bother looking up at Brin, but I saw the almost indistinguishable nod of thanks.

I moved off to clean the high tops where Sam and his friends had been, my mind racing. It was fine. Vic and Callum had nothing to do with me. He wouldn’t care where I lived. He wouldn’t even know. How would he unless Brin mentioned it. Or Jaeg. Shit, had they mentioned it?

I passed Darius’ table and saw him flip over his cell to glance at the screen. He slid out from the booth, grabbed his suit jacket, and slipped it on before tucking the cell into the inside breast pocket. He left the cigarette burning in the ashtray and walked toward the front door.

What happened next was like an orchestra of movements as the door opened, and an entourage of five men wearing suits strode in. There were no words exchanged as two of them walked across the bar and disappeared into the back while two others moved in perfect succession toward the far corner of the bar and settled themselves in one of the booths.

It wasn’t hard to tell that the over-six-foot-four man left standing with Darius was Callum James. He might as well have had a billboard above his head flashing, I own this place because there was no question he did. And it was clear everyone in the place knew it because they all stopped talking and watched him.

Except for being tall, Callum was nothing like Vic. Clean-shaven. Sharp, angular jaw. Dark mahogany strands that were a little unruly, as if they refused to be tamed. While Vic was gritty, rugged, and handsome, Callum was beautiful. What they both had was undeniable confidence.

Callum’s eyes shifted from Darius to me as if he knew I was checking him out, and my heart skipped a beat.

Shit. Way to remain invisible, Macayla.

I quickly dipped my head, grabbed the empty pitcher and glasses off the table, and placed them on my tray before picking it up and hurrying to the bar.

I slid the tray onto the bar, and Brin walked over, but she wasn’t looking at me. She was looking past me, and I didn’t have to turn to know Callum was behind me.

I stiffened, hand tightening around the lip of the tray.

Callum’s cologne was subtle, almost indistinguishable, and there was also a faint whiff of horses. Addie had mentioned he owned a horse farm somewhere outside of town.

“Brin. What’s with Tommy?” Callum asked. I had no idea how Callum knew about Tommy so fast, unless Darius had overheard and texted him.

“He called in sick,” she replied while taking the glasses off my tray and placing them under the counter. “And no one else is available for tonight.”

I bit my lip and casually glanced over my shoulder at Callum.

“Deal with it,” Callum said, looking to his right at Darius.

Uh, what did “deal with it” mean?

Darius nodded and reached in his pocket and pulled out his cell. He tapped on the screen, placed it to his ear, and walked toward the front door.

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