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“What?” she rushes out. “Oh, hell no. You can’t drop a bomb like that and then leave without giving me any of the juicy details. What the hell am I supposed to do until you get back?”
I shrug my shoulders as I race around my room, hoping like fuck Zade lets me come back here after my shift to grab some of my clothes before shipping me back off to my penthouse prison. “I don’t know,” I say with a smirk, “go find your vibrator and let off a bit of steam.” I laugh as I run away from her scathing glare, shooting back out my door and slamming face-first into Sawyer’s chest. “Ahh, fuck.” I mutter, rubbing my head, positive that’s going to leave a red mark. His pecs are so fucking solid, it’s like running into a brick wall.
“You good?” he questions, briefly glancing over my head at Cara who follows me out.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I say. “But I’m gonna be late for work. We need to go.”
Zade lets out a heavy sigh from the living room as he watches out the window, scanning every inch of the darkness. “Not too late to pull out,” he suggests.
A grin stretches across my face as I meet Easton’s stare across the room. “Oh, it’s way too late to pull out now,” I murmur under my breath, recalling the exact moment he didn’t do that.
Zade looks back at me, his face scrunched with distaste, but thankfully he doesn’t say a word. I can only imagine the vile bullshit that would pour out of his mouth, leaving me wondering where the man I spent an hour talking with in bed last night has disappeared to. Hell, he’s left me almost giddy to do it all over again tonight. Assuming we end up back at his penthouse, of course.
Cutting it way too close, I get my ass out the door with the boys following my every step, and before I know it, I’m barging through the door of Danny’s Bar, a nervous anxiety sitting heavily in my gut. Heather works the busy bar, yet she clocks me the second I appear in the doorway, her face falling and quickly morphing into an irritated scowl.
“Ahh, shit,” I mutter as Sawyer steps in behind me, his hands on my hips.
“You’ll be fine,” he tells me. “It’s too fucking busy for her to deny you anyway.”
Not gonna lie, he’s got a good point, and it instantly eases me. Not wanting to waste any more precious time, I slip into the crowd and make my way to the bar, grabbing an apron as I pass the small opening to get behind the bar, not even bothering to clock in. Hell, what does it matter anyway? I’ll be dead soon enough, and if by some miracle I’m not, then I’ll be on the run, racing against the clock for my life.
“I—”
“No,” Heather says, cutting me off. “No way in hell. You skipped out on your shift Saturday night without even a text after you gave me this whole big spiel about how I could count on you. The bar was packed, and I was left alone to do it by myself. Danny had to come in, and believe me, he’s pissed.”
“Shit,” I say with a heavy sigh, knowing there’s no excuse under the sun she would ever accept, not even the cold hard truth. “You know I wouldn’t skip out on my shift without a word unless it was really important. Come on, Heather. I’ve never given you reason to doubt me. I’m not the type to just not be bothered showing up or deciding some bullshit party is a better use of my time. I’m a good worker.”
She presses her lips into a hard line, really not wanting to give me another chance, but in this packed bar, what choice does she really have? “Danny’s not going to like it,” she warns me. “When he comes in to raid the till, he’s gonna have something to say about it.”
Thank fuck.
“I know,” I say, sucking in a sharp breath through my teeth and cringing. “I can handle it.”
“Good, now hurry up and get to work. I wanna get on top of this crowd before the 9 p.m. rush comes through.”
With that, I get busy, and just as I had hoped, the rush of customers keeps me occupied with mind-numbing work. At least until Danny shows up. Just as Heather had predicted, he drags me to the quietest part of the bar and bitches me out until all four of the guys are beginning to creep toward me. Which naturally brings on another spout of bitching for breaking his cardinal rule of not bringing one’s bullshit into his bar.
Realizing that wasting time reaming me is only making the line at the bar longer and stressing out Heather, he huffs away and leaves me to get back to my work. By nine thirty, everything has finally started to calm enough that I can actually catch my breath.
