“Now, none of that . . .” He trailed kisses along the side of her neck, smiling at the goosebumps that followed his mouth. “Wouldn’t want folks to see through our little act.” More kisses and nibbles, then back up to her ear. “Angel took Jacqui’s car and—”
From the corners of his eyes, he saw Amanda, the bartender from the other night, emerge from the ladies room. He reacted, pressing his mouth to Mick’s. He made it a long, deep, penetrating kiss.
At first, he felt her surprise and resistance, then her response. Melting into him, playing the game.
He drew back. “She left a note. She may be on her way here.”
“Here? But—”
More people passing; another drugging kiss. “The note wasn’t explicit. I’m going to Jacqui’s—”
She dropped her hands to his chest, curled her fingers into his shirt. “I’ll go. She’s my—”
“No.” Her rubbed his mouth softly against hers. “I’ll . . . see . . . if I can pick . . . up . . .”
Two obviously inebriated young women stumbled into the hall, then stopped and stared.
Micki flattened her hands against his chest and pushed him away. “Get off me, you creep! We’re done.”
He stepped back, hands up as if to ward off an attack. “You’re crazy, you know that?”
“Whatever. Just stay away from me.”
“With pleasure, psycho.” He started toward the door, feigning disgust.
“Don’t call me!” she shouted after him. “Don’t come see me. Not ever!”
In other words, call me the minute you know something. Or else.
Zach paused, looked over his shoulder at her. “No worries, babe. This is so over.”
Chapter Fifty-five
Saturday, July 20
2:05 A.M.
Micki splashed cold water on her cheeks. Her hands shook. Her legs felt weak. She had to snap out of it. Angel had left Jacqui’s, putting herself in harm’s way.
Zach would find her. He had to.
But letting him go without her went against her every instinct.
She had a job to do. Here. Zach didn’t. Technically, Zach wasn’t even part of this investigation anymore. And officially, neither was Angel.
Micki splashed more water, then ripped off a paper towel. Zach was no longer her responsibility to protect. Not her partner. Not anything but a major pain in— Liar. Micki looked at herself in the mirror, cringing at the honesty in her reflection. She was still quaking inside. Still on fire. The effect of his mouth on hers, his lips trailing across her neck, chill bumps following, her nipples hardening.
She had to get a frickin’ grip, like, right now. This instant. It’d been part of the job. They’d both been playing a part. He had mad skills.
She remembered calling him the magic man. Turned out he really was.
“I am. Good in bed.”
“I wasn’t wondering.”
“You will.”
Son of a bitch was right about everything.
She met her own gaze in the bathroom mirror once more. This time with determination. Sinking into character. Time to convince Kenny-the-Dark-Bearer-morphing-bartender that she was his next victim.
Moments later, Micki learned that wasn’t going to happen.
“Gone?” she said to the woman bartender, pouting. “Where?”
“His shift ended.”
“But he promised he wouldn’t leave without me.” Again with the pout. The slight slurring of her words. “It’s my birthday.”
“How about some friendly advice?” The woman cocked an eyebrow, but didn’t wait. “I’d stay away from that one. Kenny takes no prisoners.”
Micki looked at her, feigning confusion. “What do you mean?”
“You’ll fall hard and he’ll break your heart.”
“But I really like him. And it’s my birthday. He’s my present.”
The woman laughed and shook her head. “Tell you what, sweetie. Sometimes he grabs breakfast on his way home. The Who Dat Cafe. Maybe you can catch him there.”
Micki didn’t waste any time. She found Stacy. “I’m going after Kenny,” she said. “The other bartender thought he might have gone to breakfast.”
“Hell no, you’re not. Mac followed him.”
“Even better. I’ll have back up if I need it.”
“We stick with the plan, finish the night here.”
“Can’t do it, Stacy. Sorry.”
“Shit, Micki—” She lowered her voice. “You’re vulnerable.”
“I’m good. Got my badge, gun, and Mac.” She paused. “He’s our guy. I can’t say why I’m certain of that, but I am. I find him, I call you and the rest of the cavalry.”
Two minutes later, Micki was out on the French Quarter street. She was familiar with the Who Dat, a late night hole-in-the-wall breakfast joint, favorite of locals, cops included. On Dauphine near Conti, off the beaten track.
She hauled ass. Anyone watching would know she was not only stone cold sober, but on a mission.
A half block from the cafe, she slowed, caught her breath. Fluffed her hair, straightened her top. And prayed he was there and he bought her empty-headed, hungry for sex act.
Her prayers were answered. He sat at the counter, staring at his plate of bacon and eggs. She scanned for Mac, but didn’t see him. She should play it smart. Notify Stacy and the rest of the team. But she had this. She could take him if she had to.