But a little voice sang to me that maybe it was fate.
It didn’t matter. Whatever happened, if I had to take down Dean Snyder myself, I would. Hopefully in time to save Shandy, and any others he was grooming.
I caught the attention of a nearby server.
“What can I get you?” the woman asked, a friendly smile on her face.
“I’m looking for a friend.” I pulled the folded piece of paper out of my pocket. I’d stopped at a 24-hour printing place and printed out a copy of the photo. “I was told he comes here. Have you seen him?”
She glanced at the picture, her brow creasing. “He doesn’t look familiar, honey. Sorry.”
I nodded my thanks.
I checked the bar and got more head shakes. Dammit. This was turning into a wild-goose chase.
Spotting another server heading my way, I shot him my best smile. “Hi.”
He smiled back, balancing a loaded tray of drinks like a pro. “Hi. You want to order something?”
“Not right now. I’m looking for my friend. Another friend said he’d been in here.” I held up the picture.
The man’s face stayed neutral, but I saw a flicker in his eyes. “Nope. Sorry. He looks like a hundred other guys who pass through here.”
I stepped closer. “You know him.”
The man’s eyes widened. “I don’t.”
I grabbed his arm. “Please?—”
He wrenched out of my hold. “I can’t help you.” He turned and hurried away.
Nash. Nash was here.
Or he had been.
“Sweet cheeks, I can be your friend.”
I spun around. A guy wearing a baggy suit, in his late thirties or maybe early forties, was standing too close to me. He was holding a glass of whiskey, and he shot me a smile he probably thought was sexy. His face was flushed. This clearly wasn’t his first glass.
“No, thanks.” I turned.
An arm snaked around my middle. I stiffened, fighting the pain as he put pressure on my sore ribs.
“Let me go,” I said through gritted teeth.
Hot breath brushed my ear and I smelled alcohol fumes.
“Sweetness, we can havesomuch fun together.”
Anger speared up like a geyser. This guy thought he could ignore what I wanted, touch me without permission. I was fucking sick of assholes who thought they could just do whatever the hell they wanted to women.
I stomped my sharp heel down on the top of his foot. He cursed and bobbled his drink, spilling it over his hand. His arm loosened.
Spinning, I grabbed his other arm and twisted it up behind his back.
“Ow.Ow. Bitch.”
“Oh, it’s bitch now, not sweet cheeks?” I landed a hard shot to his ribs, and he sucked in a breath.
