“What are you doing snoopin’ outside my door, Daisy Miller?”
“I wasn’t snoopin’, I swear. It’s my first night, and I got lost.”
The bouncer shook his head. “With your ear pressed against the door?”
I shrugged. “I tripped.” I hoped I was convincing, but I was pretty sure it was gonna take a miracle to save me.
“What are you really doin’ here?” Mick asked.
Mason shifted in his seat.
“I’m looking for Dolly Parton Parker.”
“Who?”
“Sapphire.”
He shrugged. “She’s not here.”
“Yeah, I figured that out.” I took a step backward. “So I guess I’ll be goin’ then.”
Mick shook his head. “No. You’ll stay.”
I couldn’t panic. Mason and I weren’t necessarily doomed. I’d called Joe, so he might show up to save us, but he had no idea that I was in trouble or even where I was. My best hope was Jed. Skeeter said he’d send him after fifteen minutes, but now I worried about Jed taking on all of the men in the club. But then again, Skeeter wasn’t stupid and neither was Jed. Now that they knew Rich Lowry was present, I suspected they’d come prepared.
“What do you want to do?” Lowry asked.
“Take them both out back and deal with it.”
I grimaced. “Look, I’m sorry for the misunderstanding—” I pointed my thumb to the now closed door “but Kip really needs me out front.”
“Sorry, Daisy.” Mick chuckled. “Your position is about to be terminated.”
The full impact of his words sunk in. Mason pushed his chair back and stood, his back tense. Anger burned in his eyes as he looked from the other men to me, but Mud pulled out a gun and aimed it at him.
“Have a seat, Deveraux.”
“Wait,” I said, lifting my hands in surrender. “I can help you! Just don’t shoot him.”
Mick laughed. “How can you possibly help me?”
“Aren’t you trying to get even with Skeeter and take his place? Isn’t that what all of this is about?”
Mick’s eyebrows lifted in surprise, but I had Mason’s attention as well.
Mick leaned his elbow on the table. “Why would you think that?”
“I know things. Tell Mud to put his gun away, and I’ll tell them to you.”
Mick studied me for several seconds. “Deveraux, have a seat. Mud.” He flicked his hand toward his manager, his eyes still on me. “Now go on.”
Both of the other men followed his orders, neither of them looking happy about it.
I couldn’t sell Skeeter out. I wouldn’t sell Skeeter out. So what was I going to tell Mick? “Skeeter knows what you’re up to, and he’s not happy.”
Mick laughed. “Since when does Skeeter confide in a woman?”
“I’ve heard things.”
“What else have you heard?”
“Skeeter’s planning to promote Bear Stevens.” Telling him so was both a lie and a risk. But it was also an opportunity to see if Mick had been behind the attempts on Mason’s life.
Mick’s shoulders straightened. “Bear?” He grinned. “You don’t say?”
“Bear’s helping you, right?”
“And what makes you say that?”
“He’s part of the plan to kill Mason, isn’t he?”
Mick scooted forward in his seat and leaned his elbows on the table. “And how did little Daisy Miller get to be on a first-name basis with the Assistant District Attorney?”
Oh, crap. How was I going to explain that? “Every single girl in Fenton County knows about Mason Deveraux III.”
“And how did you know someone tried to kill him? It wasn’t in the news.”
Oh crap. How was I going to explain that one? But wasn’t the fact that Mick knew about it proof of his involvement?
“She’s a badge bunny,” Mason said.
My eyes flew wide open as I spun to face him.
He looked up at me with a convincing mixture of disgust and pity. “She hangs around the courthouse and the sheriff station. I knew she looked familiar, but now I realize where I’ve seen her. Hanging around outside my office. She must have overheard one of my conversations.”
I put my hands on my hips and shot him a hateful glare. “That’s an ugly way to put it, Mason Deveraux. I can’t help it if you love me and just don’t know it yet. If you’d just eaten that lemon pound cake with a lock of my hair baked into it, my love spell would have worked fine. You know, the cake I left on your office desk after you’d gone home that night? Did you find it?”
To me, Mason’s non-response looked like an actor in a play who’d forgotten his lines. But I was fairly sure Mick would read it differently—interpreting his gape-eyed expression as horror.
I narrowed my eyes, deciding to up the ante. “And I smelled your office chair.”
Mick shook his head as though he was trying to clear it. “What?”
Mason lifted his eyebrow. “You are batshit crazy if you think I’m ever gonna fall for you.”
“You would,” I said. “All you need to do is eat my lemon pound cake!”