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I’m stuck with her handbag. The only other option is to let the thing fall to the floor “Find what?”
“My phone.” She rubs her eyes and one of her false eyelashes comes loose. “I could feel it vibrating but then…”
She grows bored with the sentence and lets it die.
Looking into the chaos of her purse, I see a tampon, various cosmetics and an open bag of M&M’s that has spilled its contents everywhere. It doesn’t take long to locate an iPhone in a zipped pocket.
Sophie slurps another cherry as I hand the phone over. “You’re a doll.” She squints at the screen. “Crap, I think I’m in trouble.”
The girl on the pole spins to the floor. She struts to the front of the stage and blows me a kiss. Instead of reacting, my eyes flicker to the door. With each passing second my impatience to see Haven mounts.
“What kind of trouble?” I ask Sophie because now she’s practically wringing her hands.
She lurches from her seat. “Jared says I need to go now. Likeright now. He’s got a car outside waiting to pick me up.”
So far this Jared character sounds like a real prick. Ignores his wife and orders her to come running the instant he snaps his fingers. I’m not surprised. And I’m sure there are far worse bullets points on his bio than crappy husband.
Gage warned that some of Haven’s relatives are into some seriously sordid shit. I don’t doubt Gage’s word. He grew to manhood as his mob boss father’s apprentice. He steers clear of that life these days but he keeps tabs on Em City’s worst characters and there’s not much that gets past him.
“Bye, Conner.” Sophie throws her arms around my neck for an inexplicable hug before staggering to the door. Some M&M’s fall out of her open purse like a trail of breadcrumbs.
Fiona watches her leave from the hostess station. From the way she props her hands on her hips and shakes her head it’s a safe bet that she’s used to Sophie’s behavior.
Something especially raunchy must have happened up on the stage because suddenly there’s an outbreak of hooting and some crass shouts. The beefy bouncer prowls the outskirts of the scene, practically cracking his knuckles and waiting for some fucker to step out of line.
My eyes shift back to the club’s entrance at the exact second Haven breezes inside. Every muscle in my body freezes as I hungrily drink her in. Her dress clings to the curves of her body and her hair hangs loose. A new energy crackles into the room with her, as intense as a sudden hot wind.
Haven hasn’t seen me yet, leaving me free to study her at close range. She’s impossible to look away from. Regal as a fucking queen, sexy as a forbidden sin. The impulse to seize her and haul her gorgeous ass caveman-style away from prying eyes is so powerful I can taste it.
There’s a girl at Haven’s side, small and easily overlooked as she cringes into the shadows. She notices the onstage strippers and her eyes flare. She takes a step backwards.
Haven, who has been speaking quietly with Fiona, notices the girl’s alarm and places a gentle hand on her shoulder. Haven shakes her head and the girl, who looks like she might be a teenager, relaxes a notch. She seems too young to be working here. The whole exchange is a little weird.
I don’t flatter myself that I’ve got Haven all mapped out but I’ve seen enough to understand when something is off. Her shoulders droop and when she tucks her hair behind her ears the brief glimpse of weariness on her lovely face drives a hole through my heart.
I’ve never had Micah’s fiery temper. Or Gage’s cool appetite for vengeance. But it’s now my business to find whatever or whoever has distressed this proud, beautiful girl and crush it into fucking oblivion.
She makes one final comment to Fiona and steps aside. Fiona, with new maternal determination, slings an arm around the young girl’s shoulders. The girl hesitates and glances at Haven, who nods her approval. This is enough for a relieved smile to flash across the girl’s face and for a second she gazes at Haven with the kind of awed hero worship I’m used to seeing from the kids who beg me for autographs.
Fiona is on the verge of steering the girl through the door when she halts and looks over her shoulder. With a spark of mischief written on her freckled face, she jerks her chin and says something that makes Haven’s head whip around.
Our eyes meet. Haven battles her surprise and a hint of a smile manages to touch her lips before she clamps down and erases it. Instead, she raises her chin and stalks over here on shiny black heels that will be playing a central role the next time I jerk off.
I’m not shy about checking her out, lingering on the shape of her legs before drifting up to her hips and then higher.
She doesn’t stop until she’s close enough to touch. I realize this is because she’d rather look down on me as I sit on this stupid barstool.
“Did you enjoy the show, Conner?”
“There’s a show?” I rip my eyes from her long enough to skim the gyrating dancers onstage. “I didn’t even notice.”
She huffs out a snort. “Right. Did you decorate your own face with lipstick?”
Fuck.
I swipe at the general area where one of the exotic dancers pressed her lips. So much for being impressive. “I was an unwilling participant.”
Haven’s smirk is full of amusement. She leans in and with the pad of her thumb she carefully scrubs the mark away. “There. Your suffering is over.”
