Harper tapped Coop’s arm, pointed to Cara’s window, and waved. Damn her. Damn him.
Chapter Two
Cara pulledup outside The Blue Bar and parked between two unmarked patrol cars. Fluorescent blue neon lights flashed the name as two scantily clad women disappeared inside. The badge bunnies were out in full force for mating season.
“Are you there yet?” Cara’s sister, Quinn, asked into the Bluetooth protruding from Cara’s ear.
“Yeah, I just pulled up outside the bar. How come I’m always the one stuck dealing with Aunt Betty?” Cara knew the answer without Quinn saying a word. Cara was the responsible sister.
“Quit bitching and take one for the team. You know, if I was stateside, I’d handle it myself.”
Cara smiled at Quinn’s response, even though they both knew she was full of crap. “No, you wouldn’t.”
“Fine, but I would have paid one of our other sisters to do it.”
“True.” Cara bobbed her head as if weighing her sister’s answer. Quinn marched to her own tune. One that only she could hear, just like the opera-singing Scottish ghost that had haunted her butt last year. She so deserved it.
“I hope you’re keeping score. I want brownies for this one, and I’m not talking about the prepackaged crap. I want Mavis’ brownies.” Mavis was the Scottish cook in Quinn and Collin’s castle. Quinn used the bribe often, and Cara wasn’t one to ever tell her no. Not when homemade brownies were used as an enticement. Cara grabbed her purse and stepped out of the car. She amended her early demands. “Overnighted. I’m not waiting until Christmas time.”
“Deal.” Cara was a second from clicking the Bluetooth button to cut her sister off when Quinn added, “I’ll do one better.”
“Yeah? How can you do better than Mavis’ brownies overnighted from Scotland? Are you sending Mavis too?”Cara asked and adjusted the shirt of her uniform to cover her black bra poking out from the top.
“Not Mavis, but close. Ian’s already in route with a fresh batch, and he’s going to need a place to crash while in town. I told him you had room. Love you, bye.” Quinn quickly disconnected the call.
Ian. Just what Cara needed. Of course, Quinn would saddle Cara with a horny Highlander, with roaming hands, after a night of fighting off advances from drunk cops. Cara tilted her head back and forth to ease the coiled tension in her neck. Her day was getting better by the minute. What next?
I’ve got this. Cara adjusted the hem of her uniform. The blue schoolgirl skirt barely covered her ass, and her white cotton top was cut into a V at the top and molded to the curves of her generous round breasts. She was a walking felony. She headed into the bar to fulfill her family duty. Music blared from the speakers as women danced and men crowded the stage. Cara had been promised a slow night working behind the bar, but this… Cara shook her head as she headed toward Aunt Betty behind the bar.
“You’re late, sugar,” Aunt Betty called out and lifted the bar top so Cara could get behind it.
“And you lied, Aunt Betty. You promised me a slow night,” she said, trying to bite back her annoyance.
“This is slow,” Betty argued, pulling a beer from the cooler. She handed it to one of the guy’s perched on the barstool. He wobbled. Cara registered the rest of the men sitting nearby, DUI, DUI, crossdresser? She did a double take.
“The girls will be off the stage in thirty minutes, and some of the crowd will leave.”
Cara rested her elbows on the bar and scanned the room. The women on the stage were prancing around in strings that barely covered their assets while men stuck money between their fake breasts. Cara shook her head. In another ten minutes, Aunt Betty would probably be on stage. It was a wonder she’d lasted in the FBI as long as she had. Cara bet they’d thrown one hell of a retirement party.
“Did you have your appointment?” Aunt Betty asked.
“Yeah.”
“How are your eggs? Are they all scrambled?”
Cara smiled at her question. Aunt Betty was always blunt and blurted out her thoughts. “They’re healthy and frozen.”
“Good to hear it.” Aunt Betty gestured toward the dance floor. “I still think youshould conceive the old-fashioned way. With a nice guy, in love, in the bar stockroom, but…do what you must. Tonight’s candidates are ripe for the picking. You sure I can’t change your mind?”
Aunt Betty elbowed Cara. Her aunt was a feisty old broad who weekly dyed her hair a different color. This week it matched the bright blue of her neon sign.
“I think I’ll pass.” Cara smiled sweetly at her aunt. She might not have put drunken cops under thehell noon her donor list, but she’d rectify that when she got home, right after she added anyone with Cruz as their last name.
“What about Juan, here,” Aunt Betty said while smacking the bar-back’s ass as he carried a crate of beer mugs. “He’s got a fine ass.”
“I’m sure his boyfriend, Michal, would agree. Although I’m not sure he’d approve.”
“That’s not true, Cara.” Juan grinned. “We could both be your baby’s daddy. Double the pleasure.”
