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The woman handed over two glasses of amber fluid. Kavner handed one to me.
“Take some cocktail recipe cards as well,” the woman said, waving at the cards on her table. “People love using this rum to make a Gator Bite or a Storm on the Bayou.”
“Thank you,” I said.
“Cheers.” Kavner lifted his glass. “To getting to know each other better.”
“To uncovering nefarious business dealings,” I countered.
He clinked his glass against mine. “I promise you, all my businesses are aboveboard, Agent Coleman.”
“We’ll see.” The rum hit my tastebuds. It was good. I got hints of cinnamon, vanilla, and something sweet.
Kavner studied me over his glass. “Why do you have your sights set on me?”
“I don’t.” I huffed out a breath. “I investigate anyone who pops up repeatedly in my investigation.”
“So, whatever you’re looking into, my name landed on your radar.”
I sipped again. “I can’t discuss my case.”
He leaned in close, and my pulse jumped.
“I’m not a criminal, London.” His smile was too sexy for his own good. “Oh, I don’t mind a little dance in the dark, but life is full of lots of shades of gray. You must know that.”
“The law is the law.”
“And the law always gets it right? The innocent always get justice, and the bad guys always get punished?” There was a slight edge to his words.
My nose wrinkled and I glanced away. No, sometimes the bad guys walked off scot-free. The image of Douglas Newport III filled my head before I squashed it. “The system isn’t perfect, no system is. But it’s what we have.”
“Hmm.” Kavner swirled his drink. “I can tell you I believe in doing what’s right, and protecting my own, law or no law.”
Our gazes locked.
Then he smiled again, making my gaze take in the curve of his lips. “Come on, let’s try some more local offerings.”
At the next table, a man poured us some whiskey.
“Rye whiskey.” Kavner lifted his glass. “One of my favorites.”
I rarely drank rye whiskey. My father had liked it. I took a cautious sip, and had to admit I liked the delicious burn.
It reminded me of Kavner—smooth but with a kick. Mentally, I berated myself. The man was handsome, with that powerful aura that drew the eye. I was sure all women got giddy whenever they set eyes on him.
“You like it?” he asked.
I cleared my throat. “I do. I like the peppery taste, and the hint of licorice.”
“A woman who knows her whiskey. You’re full of surprises.” He set his glass down.
“You can tone down the charm, Fury. I’m immune. It won’t stop me from arresting you if I finally uncover that your business is laundering money.”
His lips quirked, and he took my glass and set it down. Then he touched my hand, and I felt that irritating zing again.
“Let’s dance,” he said.
What? “No, I—”
