After Stryker introduced the men around the table, the guys started firing questions at them. “How do you ladies know Stryker?” asked the man closest to them.
“He’s my boss,” Danielle answered, then hiccupped again.
“At which company?”
“I’m a hacker,” Danielle said.
“That’s cool,” said a different guy.
Danielle grinned at him. Emerson looped her arm through Danielle’s. “We should go.”
“What do you do?” one of them asked Emerson.
“I’m a homicide detective.”
“Wait, is thisthedetective?” asked another. “Detective Easton?”
“That’s me.”
“The one who almost tanked your—” blurted one of the guys.
“How are you getting home?” Stryker asked, cutting off his friend.
Emerson and Danielle stared at each other. “I got an Uber over here,” Danielle said. “I’m a worse lightweight than Emmy is.”
“I drove,” Emerson said, “but we’ll take an Uber.”
“I’ll drive you home,” Stryker said.
“Be careful with him,” said the man with a crop of dark blond hair. “He’s a wolf in sheep’s clothing.”
“Not funny,” Stryker said. “There could be a serial killer out there.”
The private dining room grew dead silent.
“Shit,” Stryker mumbled.
“What are you talking about?” asked one of his guys.
“I’m investigating a couple of murders,” Emerson said. “Stryker’s just being cautious, that’s all.”
“I’m gonna take off,” Stryker said.
His friends bro-hugged him while they slapped each other on the back. As Emerson and Danielle waited, Danielle whispered, “I think you should go for it.”
Emerson laughed at her friend. “I think you should stop talking.”
Danielle hiccupped. “Okey dokey.”
“Stay out of trouble, idiots.” On their way out, Stryker flashed his friends a smile and Emerson’s whisper-soft moan caught his attention. “I heard that,” he murmured.
“Drunk sounds,” she replied.
C’mon. Have some damn self-control.
* * *
Stryker had spent his evening paying more attention to Emerson than to the dinner conversation around the table. The more he watched her, the more he needed her. By the time coffee had rolled around, he was back to being infuriated.
