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Keaton raised his eyebrows skyward. “One kiss and you think I’m obsessed with you.”

“One kiss and a hand job,” I corrected. “Possibly in the wrong order.”

“The handjob doesn’t count.”

I cocked my head to one side and regarded him quizzically. “How do you figure that?”

“I wasn’t in my right mind.”

“But you remember it?”

“Yeah, but it wasn’t really me. You wouldn’t understand.” I opened my mouth to protest, but Keaton got in first. “And studying people doesn’t count. You might have the words to be convincing, but words aren’t feelings. Words are just…”

“Words,” I offered when he seemed to struggle.

“Yeah.”

“I was talking about what we just did with Thaddeus.”

Keaton snorted. “You’re talking about thinking of others, doing something out of the goodness of your heart for absolutely no payment just because it’s the right thing to do. I imagine it feels odd when you’re more used to fleecing people.”

I drank the rest of the whiskey in my glass and poured another. Keaton covered his glass with his hand so I couldn’t sneak any more in. “Is that what it is? It’s most disconcerting.” I took a sip from the refreshed glass while I contemplated it. “And it leaves your pockets empty.”

“Is it something you could get used to?”

I took an inordinate amount of time to ponder that question. “I’m not sure I know who I am without the stories and the lies.”

“Maybe you should find out.”

I leaned back in my seat and crossed my arms over my chest. “Why does it matter? You’re planning on self-destructing in the name of vengeance, anyway.”

Keaton shrugged. “Maybe I won’t. Maybe there’s life after vengeance. And maybe…”

His gaze dropped, and he left the sentence unfinished. I knew what he’d been going to say. He’d been going to suggest there might be a future for us. Which was… Well, it was nowhere near as strange as it should have been when I’d only known him three days. But what a three days it had been. Jam-packed with deception, a battle of wills, capture, truths, and escape.

Someone saved me from having to respond when they pulled a chair up to our table. The retort on my tongue died a death when I saw who it was. “Are you following me?”

Ellswood smiled a toothy smile. “I am not. It’s just a happy coincidence we keep finding ourselves in the same place.” His gaze strayed to Keaton, his expression curious.

“Not a mark,” I explained. “A friend. So you can call me August in front of him.”

“A friend!” Ellswood didn’t bother to hide his surprise. “I didn’t think you bothered with those, which must make Keaton very special indeed.”

“More like a splinter,” I said, before Keaton could offer any thoughts on the subject. “You know, something that gets stuck under your skin and, no matter how hard you try, you just can’t get rid of it.”

Keaton snorted. “A splinter. That’s a good one.” He lifted his glass in a silent toast. “I love you too.”

The words being said in jest didn’t stop them from burrowing their way under my skin. Once there, they generated heat that threatened to spread if I didn’t get a grip on it. Clearing my throat, I concentrated on Ellswood.

He jerked his head toward the window. “Are you waiting for the rain?”

“No,” Keaton said, “he isn’t.” When I stayed silent, his gaze homed in on me. “Are you?”

I shrugged. “Apparently not.” I didn’t bother pointing out that a lack of injectors rendered the practicalities of such a thing impossible even if it had crossed my mind to run a scam here.

Ellswood looked between us. “Well, isn’t that interesting?”

Keaton got up, and I followed him with my eyes as he wandered off to do whatever he was doing. Most likely to step outside and take a piss. I studied him while he had his back to me, taking in the solid frame, the muscular thighs, and the peachy arse that could win a competition if such a thing existed.