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I want to ask them questions about Novak, but I need to act rationally. I can’t just start asking some random guys questions that might give away that I’m more than just another party girl looking to have a good, drunken night.
Instead, I awkwardly sip on my drink to fill the loud silence between us.
Ace’s voice breaks up the uncomfortable tension. “Your name’s Courtney, right?” he inquires, grabbing a glass and pouring some scotch over ice. He slides it across the bar to Theon. I watch as his full lips meet the edge of the glass, sipping the brown liquid.Shit, I’m staring again.
My natural instincts want to jump down Ace’s throat asking him how he knows my name—well, my fake name—but then I remember they’ve scanned my ID twice now.
“Yeah, just moved here.” I take another long sip of my drink, the clear liquid buzzing through my veins.
“Where are you from?” This comes from Blais.
“Jersey. My family is here though,” I lie. Just saying the word ‘family’ causes a dull ache in my chest that I try to push down. I don’t have a family—not anymore. I lost my parents and little sister, Zoe, when I was ten. My maternal grandparents raised me after that since they were the only other family I had. Not too long after my eighteenth birthday, my grandpa died from a heart attack. My nana couldn’t take the heartache from losing him, and she was gone a week after that, leaving me all alone.
I had no one else. I was a young, naive girl looking for comfort anywhere I could find it, even in the wrong places. That’s when I met the biggest mistake of my life. He turned me into someone I never wanted to be. Because ofhim, I did something I can never take back. It was all his fault.
Pushing my glass toward Blais, feeling overwhelmed by the thoughts that just consumed me, I stand. “Well, this little interrogation was fun, but I’m going to head out,” I say, locking my gaze on Ace. His commanding green eyes are enough to drench my panties.
Fuck.
I need to get out of here before I do something stupid. Turning on my heels, I all but sprint out of Trinity with nothing on my mind except what my next move will be.
Gotcha.
She’s in the palm of our hands now.
She stomps her way out of the club as her blonde ponytail swings back and forth, and her ass deliciously bounces beneath the thin material of her dress, completely unaware of the trap she just walked into.
The way she took a moment to process each question, planning out her answers, proved even more there’s something different about this woman. She pushed her shoulders back, keeping her head high as she sat down on the stool, completelyunintimidated by us. She acted like she could take us on with the snap of her fingers even with the menacing air that surrounds us.
It’s in my nature to always be observant of everything around me, so I tend to see more than Ace and Blais do. I couldn’t keep my eyes off her mesmerizing persona so it wasn’t hard to see the way she reacted when we were around her. She pretended to be unfazed, but deep down, we made her squirm.
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t intrigued by her. There’s a sense of mystery and something thrilling about her presence. But there’s also an aura of suspicion wrapping around her. Watching her, she also observed everything, cataloging it—like I do. Her eyes constantly bounced around the club, keeping the front of her body facing exits to see who comes in and out, and standing like she’s ready to fight at any given second.
Maybe she has a troubled past that makes her this way. I’ve seen it before, but something in my gut tells me that’s wrong. The fact she has a fake ID when she doesn’t need one also doesn’t help my inkling that she’s trouble.
Gorgeous trouble.
Damn. She’s in my head.
Even if I’m unsure of who the hell she is, she knows how to leave an impression. I think I get why Blais has had a constant hard-on since the moment he saw her yesterday.
When her bright blue eyes landed on me, there wasn’t any disgust swirling around in them. Just unadulterated shock. She wasn’t expecting my scar, but she didn’t stare at me like I’m a monster as everyone else does. She looked like she wanted to jump me and lick it, rather than run from it.
Since my face was permanently deformed at eleven, everyone always looks at me with pity or revulsion, but not her. She noticed it, then looked me dead in the eyes with what seemed like desire. The way her pupils dilated and she licked her lips unconsciously was an easy tell that she was turned on. Her tongue running over her plump, pouty lips forced mycock to stand at attention, leaving me with an aching boner and nothing to do about it.
“We got her, boys. Now we just need to send this to Josh,” Blais says, rubbing his palms together with a sly grin on his face.
Thankfully we have a contact, Josh White, that works at a police station in the city district next to ours. He can run prints, criminal history reports, and sort through other police documents that we don’t have access to while staying undetected. He’s also wicked smart, knowing more about technology than most people could even dream about. Not like he ever really showcases that skill to anyone else, but on occasion, we’ve needed him to look a little deeper than police records will go.
We met him at a backyard barbeque on the block we all used to live on as kids. He was staying down the street with his grandmother so he wasn’t a foster kid like us, but since that day, we all clicked. He started helping us under the conditions that we don’t ask him questions about how he gets the answers we need, and he doesn’t ask us why we need them. It’s worked so far and it makes tracking down people a lot easier.
“I’ll grab a Ziplock and some gloves from the kitchen. Don’t touch the glass until I get back.” I give both Ace and Blais a pointed look. Blais’ prints will show up on it since he made her the drink, but I don’t need them fucking up any good prints we have on her while I’m gone.
Ace glares at me with a look that comes off as ‘I’m not stupid, asshole’. Asmug grin etches across my face, knowing just how much it irritates him being bossed around. The controlling Ace Lennox doesn’t like to be told what to do.
Walking out from behind the bar, I head in the direction of our kitchen. I need to get away to release some tension I have from seeing our mystery girl.
The sound of pans clanging together filters into my ears before I’m hit with the delicious smell of fresh food. Walking into the all-white kitchen, I find Maurice ordering around his sous chef, terrifying the hell out of him. Some days I swear that man thinks he’s Gordon Ramsay with the shit he says, but as long as he gets the job done and it’s done well, I don’t care how he does it.
