One day soon, she will feel the same way I do.
My hands itch for some kind of relief. There are only two things that can fix it, and one involves shoving my cock deep into the beautiful woman upstairs, but since that’s not an option, I’ll settle for doing my job.
I grab my phone as I make my way to the front door, locking it behind me. Even though it’s safe here, I don’t take any chances.
I dial Carson’s number and let him know I’m on my way, so we can go back to The Whiskey in hopes of finding Susie.
Passing by all my cars, I go for my Mustang for good luck.
I unlock the door and slide in, excited to feel the metal machine roar to life under my hands and hopefully take my mind off Brielle. It turns on perfectly, and a smile spreads across my face as I put the car in drive, making my way toward the back of the property.
My horn blares through the silent trees as I tap my finger against the steering wheel. Moments later, his door opens, and out comes a grumpy-looking Carson.
“Remind me again why I decided to go into this line of business with you?” he says, sending me a glare through the window. “I’m fuck-ass tired, and the last thing I want to do right now is clean up the mess I made.” He climbs into the passenger seat, yawning as he buckles up.
I grin. “Because this feeds your beast like it does mine,” I reply as I press on the gas and turn the wheel, peeling out of the driveway and down the ten-mile road.
Hopefully, to get our hands a little dirty.
The bar isdark when we pull in, not a soul in sight. One single car parked in the lot. I shift my Mustang into park and scan the area for anyone who might be lingering.
“What’s our move, Em?” Carson asks.
Still scanning the area, I try to decide what the fuck we are going to do. It’s safe to assume thatsomeoneis here. It’s either Susie or one of her employees, and I can’t leave without making sure which one.
“Let’s go see who’s here for starters, maybe it’ll be easy?” I shrug, knowing that’s not the case because it never fucking is.
We step out of the car and head for the back door, fully prepared to force our way in if we have to. But as I pull the handle, the door gives.
I glance over my shoulder at Carson, his gun already drawn as we slip through the kitchen. It’s quiet, but not empty. Bottles clink somewhere behind the doors, and a small voice mumbles in the main room.
I peek through the small window, but I don’t see anyone, so I ease the door open inch by inch. I keep myself hidden, not wanting to reveal myself yet. As soon as I clear the doorway, I see the same blonde from the night we took Brielle bending over behind the bar, rummaging through something.
I drag out a bar stool and let it scratch against the wooden floors now that I know there’s no threat here, causing the blonde to yelp and papers fly from her hands. The white sheets float down to the floor, and she places her hand over her heart as if willing it to calm down.
“Jesus fuck! We aren’t fucking open, assholes!” She looks between Carson and me, and recognition filters over her face. “You guys were here the other night...”
Before I can say anything else, Carson pulls out a stool next to me and places his gun on the bartop. Her eyes go wide, and she holds her hands up in surrender.
“I-I—there’s money in the register. Take it. Take whatever you want.” Her voice raises with each word.
“Shut it, Blondie. We aren’t here for the money,” I tell her, standing and rounding the bar. She backs up until she is pressed against the counter while I reach past her for two clean glasses and set them beside Carson. His eyes haven’t left her face since we walked in.
Useless fuck.
I grab a bottle of whiskey off the back wall, circling back and taking my seat before pouring us a drink.
“Just—please don’t hurt me. I have a son, and I’m just trying to make ends meet. Please.” There’s desperation in her voice, and it’s the exact shit I love to hear, but usually only from men. Not helpless women.
“We aren’t here to hurt you,” Carson reassures her, thankfully snapping out of his love sickness and doing his job. I sit back and sip my drink, letting him take over for now.
“We’re looking for the owner. Susie. Have you seen her?” he asks, swirling the cup in his hands. She exhales, shoulders loosening.
“No. She hasn’t been in for a few days. Neither has my co-worker, Brielle.” She hesitates, looking toward the back door. “They were both here a little after midnight on Friday, I think. Brielle took out the trash and never came back in. I assumed something happened to her, so I went to the place she was living, and her roommate said she left with some guy.”
Carson lets out a laugh, his hand slapping on the countertop as he looks at me. “Was that you?” he asks between breaths.
I don’t waste any time grabbing his gun and pointing it at him. He only continues to laugh since he knows the truth. The blonde gasps and covers her mouth, but I don’t pay her any attention.
