“R-Robin White,” I said, almost slipping and saying my real name.
“What did he give you?”
Uncertain of what Crawford meant, I frowned.
“The Sensor,” he clarified. “What did he make you feel?”
A regular signaled for two more beers, so I quickly served him. “Fire.”
“Yowzer.” Mr. Crawford rested his chin against his fist. “You seem like a tough broad. I’ve heard a firebrand can sting for hours.”
“So can my energy punch.”
He chuckled as he scooted off the barstool. “I just wanted to introduce myself since you’re new. I hope to see you again, Miss White.”
As I watched him walk away, I considered how careful I needed to be when fighting Sensors. I’d spent so much time training with Niko and Christian that it hadn’t occurred to me to ask Shepherd for pointers. I’d never considered Sensors a threat.
Until now.
Chapter 8
When I reached my hotel, I collected my card key from the manager and took the elevator up to my room.Man, what a night.Someone was supposed to have left a bag in my room with all my approved clothing and personal items.
I could have worked until dawn, but Simone made me go home after hearing what had happened with the Sensor. She probably wanted me to take off early so she could collect more tips. This was starting to feel like my real life and not an undercover job. I could actually envision myself bartending for a living.
Once inside the room, I flipped the light switch by the door and jumped with surprise when I saw a man sitting by the windows. My heart ricocheted in my chest for a brief moment before I recognized him.
Christian stood up. “Didn’t mean to put a fright in you.”
I tossed my money-stuffed bag that Flynn had lent me on the bed. “Are you supposed to be here?”
He strode toward me and touched my cardigan. “What’s this?”
“A loaner. I have to cover myself up walking home.”
Christian smiled and traced his finger between my breasts. “They don’t arrest anyone for prostitution on this side of town.”
“That’s not the reason.” I shucked off the sweater and let it drop to the floor.
Christian seized my arm and rubbed his thumb over the tattoo. “What the feck is this?”
“My permanent tattoo. I thought about getting a butterfly, but it would clash with my reputation. Like it?”
“Don’t be telling me fibs.”
“It stays on for about a week, and then he has to reapply it. It’s club policy.”
“How is it lit up like a fecking Christmas tree?”
“Mage magic, I guess. Some guy slapped it on me when I wasn’t paying attention.”
Christian gave me a black look. “What shitebag put his hands on you? I want his name.”
“Calm down, lover. If it makes you feel any better, Claude has one too, and it’s not on his arm.” I sat on the bed and stared at his fit body beneath that tight charcoal-grey shirt. After seeing so much skin during the past evening, I had developed a newfound appreciation for modesty. “These boots were comfy.”
He knelt in front of me and took them off. “I put those gelatinous inserts inside.”
“I don’t think that’s what they’re called, but thanks for looking after my soles.”
