“You going to talk about it?” Drew asked, his voice low enough that only I could hear over the music. “Or are you just going to sit there and drink yourself into a stupor?”
I took another sip of scotch, letting it burn. “Nothing to talk about.”
“Bullshit.” He leaned back against the bar, crossing his arms. “You’ve been staring at that glass like it holds the secrets of the universe. And you’ve got that look you get when you’re trying to solve a problem you don’t have the answer to.”
“Maybe I don’t want to solve it.”
“Also bullshit.”
I turned to look at him, my vision slightly fuzzy around the edges. The alcohol was hitting harder than usual, probably because I’d skipped dinner. Or maybe because I was using it to drown thoughts I couldn’t afford to have.
“She’s protecting him,” I said, the words coming out before I could stop them. Before I could remember that talking about this was dangerous. That admitting I cared was weakness. “Barbara. She’s protecting Bass. Covering for him. Making excuses.”
Drew’s expression sharpened. “The boyfriend?”
“Yeah. The boyfriend.” The words tasted bitter. “She lets him terrorize her. Let’s him attack people who try to help. And for what? For some sick relationship that’s got her jumping every time her phone rings?”
“Kirill—”
“I’m a stupid idiot.” I drained the rest of my scotch, the glass hitting the bar with more force than intended. “I let her into my goddamn bed. Knowing she’s tangled up with this bastard. Knowing she’s lying to me about everything.”
“So walk away,” Drew said simply.
I stared at him. “What?”
“Walk away. Finish the security job. Take Andrew’s money. Move on to the next thing. Stop letting her get under your skin.” He paused. “Unless you can’t.”
Could I? Could I just walk away from Barbara Davis and pretend she didn’t exist? Pretend I hadn’t seen the fear in her eyes, the way she transformed into someone smaller when that phone rang?
Pretend I hadn’t felt something shift in my chest when she’d looked at me and said she came with baggage?
“Drew.” Damir’s voice cut through my spiraling thoughts. “Can you pass me that lime?”
Drew reached for the lime wedge, handing it over while Damir and Hailey laughed about something I hadn’t been paying attention to. They looked comfortable together. Easy. Happy even.
I wanted that. Wanted the simplicity of just being with someone without all the complications. Without the lies and fear and violence lurking in the shadows.
But nothing about Barbara Davis was simple.
“What’s his name?” Drew asked, pulling my attention back. “This Bass character. You got a full name? Location? Anything useful?”
“Just Bass.” I gestured for Hailey to refill my glass, trying to ignore the concerned look Drew shot me. “That’s what comes up on her phone. That’s all I know.”
“And you’re sure he’s the boyfriend?”
“What else would he be?” I watched the amber liquid pour into my glass, the red light making it look like blood. “He calls her constantly. She shakes when she answers. He barks orders at her like she’s property. That’s not a friend or a colleague.”
Drew was quiet for a moment, his jaw working like he was chewing on words he wasn’t sure he should say. “Control doesn’t always mean a romantic relationship.”
“Then what?” I turned to face him fully, the alcohol making me more aggressive than I intended. “What kind of relationship involves terrorizing someone until they’re afraid to breathe wrong?”
“Lots of kinds.” His voice was careful. “Blackmail. Coercion. Family shit. Could be anything.”
“It’s her boyfriend,” I insisted, even as doubt crept in. Because Drew had a point. The way Bass—the masked man—had acted in that parking lot hadn’t been like a jealous boyfriend defending his territory. It had been calculated. Like someone protecting a secret rather than a relationship.
But that didn’t make sense with everything else I’d seen.
Drew opened his mouth to respond, but I cut him off, raising my glass slightly. “Bass,” I said the name louder than necessary, the scotch making my volume control questionable. “Her boyfriend. Bass is Barbara’s boyfriend.”
