“How sure are you?” I ask, feeling one of those headaches Heaven was talking about a moment ago flare up in the back of my skull.
Zeke lifts his hand in the air and tilts it back and forth. “I’ll say sixty-forty. I think Richard recognized Heaven. It’s the last time I hook you guys up with a job. If dick for brains can’t keep it in his pants, then everyone is going to recognize him.”
“Hey, I didn’t fuck him. How the hell does he know me?”
Zeke turns on the stool and lifts the rocks glass in his hand, pinky up, showing the gawdy gold ring he has on it. “It turns out you fucked his daughter. Small fucking world, huh?” Zeke swallows the bourbon down and slaps the table. “Damn, that’s good!”
“I thought the cameras were taken out?” Jaxon glares at Sebastian, and Sebastian throws his elbow against the counter with a hard thud and drops his face in his hands.
“They were. I double checked.”
“It wasn’t the cameras,” Zeke confirms, pouring another glass of bourbon. “One of the guards survived. He said he might have noticed Heaven.”
“I don’t remember fucking Richard’s daughter. I don’t even know Richard. Are you sure?” Heaven tries to turn around from the couch, but he can’t. He huffs and slaps the cushion with his hand. “I’m telling you, I don’t—”
“Heather Lindsay, his step-daughter. Apparently, while you were a bit younger, in high school, you went to a party…” Zeke trails off, so Heaven can connect the dots.
“Nope. Nothing.” Heaven shrugs.
“Well, that guard was at the party, and he said it might have been you at the vault,” Zeke says.
“Might. That’s the keyword there, isn’t it?” Heaven’s chipper attitude about all this pisses me off, but right now, there’s nothing we can do.
“I’ll try to dive deep in the web, see if he’s been researching Heaven. If he finds Heaven, he can find us. I’ll scrub what I find.” Sebastian let’s out a heavy, exhausted sigh. Before he leaves the kitchen, he pours a mug of coffee, takes a gulp, and refills it before begrudgingly walking away.
“You better have kept your dick in your pants, Heaven, or I swear to God, I’ll rip it right off you.” Jaxon throws the empty bottle in Heaven’s lap before he vanishes from the room. He probably wants to go see Quinn.
Heaven rolls the bottle in his hands, staring down the darkened hall. “I think he’s mad at me.”
“You think?” I retort as my phone dings.
“It will be fine. If you want, I can hire someone to take Richard out. I know a guy who knows a guy who knows a guy,” Zeke rambles, then hiccups. “Fuck.” He giggles. He fucking giggles! “I forgot how much of a lightweight I am.”
“Jesus Christ.” Owen stares at Zeke as he slips out of the chair and onto the floor, annihilated off two fingers of alcohol. “New rule—he gets no liquor. Ever. He sticks with beer.” Owen squats and picks Zeke up off the floor, carrying him like a groom would his bride on their wedding day. He must see the humor stretching across my face, and he narrows his eyes at me. “Shut up.”
“I didn’t say anything,” I defend myself, and Heaven holds out a hand, waiting for me to greet it with a high-five.
So I do.
Owen curls his lip in annoyance and looks down at Zeke, who is now snoring, head thrown over Owen’s arm. “He better hope this is jet lag because no man goes down this easy.”
“Maybe he didn’t eat today.”
“That’s a good point. Drinking on an empty tummy is not a good thing.” I pat Zeke’s stomach, and he laughs again, wiggling in Owen’s arms to escape the touch.
“Tickles,” he slurs.
“How is this man our lawyer? Someone might want to think about that and decide if we want a new one. He’s a train wreck.”
“Yeah, but he’s our train wreck,” Heaven adds with a tone filled with care as he turns on the TV. “Sweet, I love this movie.”
Bridesmaids.
“Hey, Grayson, which one are you? I think I’m the drunk one.”
“I’m not answering that question.”
“You’re the one getting married. For sure. All fun, kind of, then serious and gloomy. Yeah, you’re her.”
“Fuck you. I am not.” I am. I refuse to say that out loud. My phone vibrates again, reminding me I have a message. “Oh, shit!” I hope it isn’t Finley. I don’t want her to think I’m ignoring her, but I get the impression she’s ignoring me.
We were talking constantly for a bit, and then she stopped messaging me out of the blue. I admitted I wanted to get to know her more, and I think I freaked her out. I pushed. I hurried. I should have known better with what her profile says. She wants to be friends and go slow, which is what I want.
And then I had to go and rush things because I’m impatient. I want to know how her voice sounds. Is it high-pitched? Low and raspy? Nasally?
God, don’t let it be nasally.
I pull my phone from my pocket and smile when I see her name across the screen. Maybe I don’t need to be too eager. Do I make her wait?
No. Never make a woman wait.
I swipe the message icon, my heart pounding when I see it’s a picture of her, but just of her from behind. She’s sitting cross-legged and looking out over a cliff, and various buildings are in her view.
Her hair glows a beautiful ruby color. Her skin is the color of milk. I bet she’s beautiful, and I bet that’s why she doesn’t want to show her face. She is used to guys only wanting her for her looks, and she wants to meet people the other way. Conversation.
Without communication, two people together are just sex.
FinleyPark: I’m sorry
