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Taking a deep breath, she rubbed her palms on her jacket. She had a Swiss Army knife in her purse. She’d use that shit to break in if she had to.
In a last-ditch attempt to gain entrance legally, Sonia hammered on the door with her fists. The impact bit the sides of her hands as she pounded over and over.
Finally, the door flew open.
“What the hell?” Hunter shouted, peering out. Another groomsman stood behind him.Keith,she thought. “Are you the police? No, no, wait. A new stripper? Please tell me I called you.”
“I’m Sonia,” she said firmly. “The maid of honor. Where’s Brendan?”
“Ohhhhh, right.” Keith scrutinized her. “B’s the life of this party! But I, uh…” He swiveled to stare into the bar. “I don’t know where he is.”
Hunter rubbed his floppy blond hair. “Marissa texted too. She was asking about him.”
“Wait,Marissa?”Keith stared at him. “That blue-haired bridesmaid? Why are you texting?”
Sonia pushed between them, and they both jumped back.
“Hey, hey. No women allowed.” Keith hurried after her.
“Unless you’re taking your clothes off,” Hunter called.
Ignoring them, Sonia strode into the bar. The twins’ friends were having a night to remember. Ian was at the center of it all, laughing, joking, yelling along to some song that poured over the speakers.
Cutting through the swaying, noisy knots of guys, Sonia made straight for Ian. He set his drink down, the laughter vanishing from his face when he saw her. “Is Diana okay?”
“She’s fine,” Sonia said quickly. “It’s Brendan I’m worried about.”
Ian’s brow furrowed. “B’s having the time of his life. A little rocky at first, but—”
“Where is he?”
Frowning, Ian surveyed the room. “He was just here.”
Pulling away, Sonia checked the restrooms in back. Empty. At the end of the hall, anExitsign glowed green. Pushing the door open, she found herself in a narrow alley.
“Brendan? Are you out here?”
All she saw were dumpsters, stacks of flattened cardboard, and a tabby cat who scurried away at the sound of her voice.
Then she heard a low, raspy chuckle from the other side of the dumpster.
Sonia ventured to the left, her heart in her throat. A pair of long legs protruded into the alley.
“Brendan,” she said quickly, squatting down beside him.
His solid body was slumped against the brick wall. He was still half-naked, his hair plastered to his forehead, and his unfocused eyes gleamed in the lights of the alley. He gave her a slow smile.
Sonia put her hand on his sweaty shoulder. “You don’t look good.”
“Whaddaya mean, I don’t look good?” he slurred. “I’m great! Best I’ve ever been. I’m the best man. I’m good, I’m all good.”
Sonia swallowed. She rubbed Brendan’s shoulder, staring down at his pants leg, his thigh, the oil spill on the pavement. “Let’s get you back inside, okay?”
Brendan hiccupped. “You don’t think I’m good.” That charming grin spread across his face, wide and hollow. “You think I’m an empty — pretty — package.”
“I don’t think that.”
“Then tell me, baby. Give me all the compliments. Pile it on.”
