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The guy behind the bar slides a glass of tequila in front of Paul. I settle for pointing at the beers stocked in a cooler, then hold up one finger. It’s now or never. I glance around quickly once the guy’s back is turned, then reach over Paul’s glass to leave a tip in the jar.
Dropping the powder into the tequila along the way.
The motion catches Paul’s attention, and he grabs the glass. While I’m watching out of the corner of my eye, he raises it to his lips and takes a sip. There’s nothing about him to hint at recognition of there being something wrong, not that I would expect it. Even if he was sober, he wouldn’t be able to taste the difference.
The way he is now? I could’ve replaced his drink with a glass of piss, and he’d probably shoot it back without hesitation. By the time I have my beer, he’s already halfway finished and still drinking when a couple of his buddies join him.
Ainsley’s either still hiding in the closet or has ducked into the ladies’ room. Either way, she’s nowhere to be found. My job is done. It sort of seems like a waste of time to stick around when Paul’s as good as dead. I even got my dick wet, something I wasn’t expecting. A bonus.
The door isn’t thirty feet from where I’m standing. I could be home in no time, preparing for my next job.
Yet I can’t move. I can kill a man, but I can’t abandon her. I just gave her what I now know was her first experience. After all the shit she’s put up with, what kind of bastard would I be if I ruined things by leaving her now?
When did I grow a conscience? If I did, it was when I first set eyes on her and that ridiculous cat she talks to like a child. She’s like some rare, precious thing that needs protecting from the assholes who like to take out their insecurities on everyone they decide is different.
I disappear on her now, and I become one of those assholes. I might be a murderer, but I’m not an asshole.
I happen to be looking in her direction when she emerges from the bathroom for the second time this evening. Our gazes meet, and the knowing little grin she tries to hide does something to me. I made the right choice.
“Does anybody know, do you think?” She’s trying not to giggle as her gaze darts around.
“If you’re asking whether you’re wearing a sign telling everybody what we did, the answer is no.”
“Good.” She covers her face with one hand, shaking her head while the giggles she can’t hold back take over. “I can’t believe I did that.”
“I might make a bad girl out of you yet, Ainsley.”
When she looks up at me, something deeper than mischief dances in her eyes. “Is that a promise?”
“If you want it to be.” She’s like a magician or a witch or something, working her way inside me. I don’t flirt. I sure as hell don’t stare into a girl’s eyes and wish I’d met her sooner so she’d already be part of my life. Yet here I am.
As it turns out, there isn’t much left of the evening, anyway. A crowd is gathering around the cake table, and we watch from the fringes as the happy couple cut off a slice, which they carefully feed each other. “Come on!” Paul shouts. “Smash it in her face! Smash it! Smash it!” He looks around like he’s hoping somebody will join him in the chant.
I sure can’t imagine why anybody would want this jerkoff dead and gone.
Ainsley growls, rolling her eyes. “Only he would want to see his sister have her dress and makeup ruined.”
“He’s a real charmer.” I touch her hand, drawing her attention. “But then I knew that already.”
“Screw them. Screw them all.”
“I can almost believe you mean that.”
“I do.” She punctuates it with a firm nod. “I always figured they were the ones who were wrong, not me, but this is the first time I’ve ever had anybody agree with me.”
“You have that now.”
“I know.” My god, she’s glowing. “I know that.” How could I have ever considered leaving her alone?
It shouldn’t come as a surprise when she announces she wants to leave only a few minutes after the cake is cut. “It’s not like there’s anything else to do.” True, and we wouldn’t be the first ones to leave, either. A few other couples are already getting their things together and saying goodbye to the bride and groom. I guess some people really do only stay until after the cake.
“Do you want to go tell your folks we’re leaving?”
A wicked little smile tugs at the corners of her mouth. “They’ll figure it out. And it’s not like I need their permission. I’m a grown woman.”
“Yeah, you are.” She blushes when I wink and tries to hide her smile. She doesn’t know that’s a waste of time because she can’t hide anything from me. I’ve seen her from the beginning.
It’s only when we’re in the car, on the way back to her apartment, that tension bubbles up between us again. She’s nervous, and I know why. There’s no doubt in my mind she would say yes if I asked to come upstairs—and it’s tempting, so tempting I have to bite my tongue before I go through with suggesting I do so. No, it’s better for us not to be together tonight, in case she receives a phone call I don’t want to be present for. I doubt she’ll break down with emotion when she hears what happened to Paul, but I can’t run the risk of somehow giving myself away if I happen to be around when she gets the news.
