I frowned over my drink. “I don’t like the connection to Felix and the feuding Hugo father and son. How would a crooked small-town cop land on any of their radar?”
“Criminals are like one big inbred family. Dilton didn’t just suddenly up and go bad like an avocado. That boy had been rotting from the inside for a long time. He could have done a favor here for Daddy Hugo and worked a job with Hugo Junior over there. Hell, you know, a bunch of bad guys sit down for a friendly poker game when one henchman says he’s looking for a getaway driver, and another henchman says, ‘I got a guy.’”
“That’s possible,” I agreed.
“You’ve seen Dilton’s finances. That dumbass was sitting on a lot more money than just a cop’s salary. It didn’t all have to come from the same employer.”
Raucous laughter echoed from the opposite end of the U-shaped bar where several men were gathered in a tight circle. Probably around a woman, I guessed.
Nolan sniffed the bourbon appreciatively, then sipped. “Damn, that’s good. Do they just keep a bottle here for you in case you show up?”
“It pays to own the hotel,” I said dryly.
Of course there were drawbacks, like the hungry eyes zeroing in on me. Some wanted to make deals. Others wanted to stand close enough for a photo op. Still others wanted to get even closer in hopes of being chosen for a more intimate kind of fun.
“Ever get the feeling like you’re in a zoo?” Nolan asked observantly.
I smirked. “Only every day.”
“You could try being less handsome. I mean, I’m a straight guy, but even I know a suit daddy when I see one. Maybe shave the beard, lose a few teeth,” he suggested.
A tall blond wandered by with a seductive swing to her hips. She was dressed in Alexander McQueen, and I could smell her cloying perfume from six feet away. The hair was what caught my eye, but I immediately rejected her. She didn’t have green eyes and glasses.
Damn it.
I set my glass down with a snap.
Ever since she’d shown up at my office, it felt like Sloane had infiltrated this life too. Not just the one I carried on periodically in Knockemout. I needed to get her out of my head. I’d tried everything over the years. Except one thing…
That one thing slammed into me like a train. The fastest way for me to get bored with a woman had always been to take her to bed. Sex always triggered a countdown clock. Once the hunt was over, so was the interest for me.
A vision of Sloane perched on my desk, her thighs and lips open for me, had my blood racing to my cock.
“So if that fuckface Dilton is the one, then it’s case closed. At least on that end of things,” Nolan said, oblivious to my predicament.
I gritted my teeth and willed my body to have some fucking self-respect.
“As long as Anthony Hugo doesn’t get it in his head to revisit the list,” I said.
“It would be stupid, not to mention pointless. The CIs who stuck around after finding out Hugo had a target on them were all shipped off courtesy of WITSEC. If anything happens to any cop on that list, Hugo knows he’s the first person they’ll look at,” he pointed out.
“Let’s make sure it was Dilton,” I decided.
Nolan nodded. “I’ll have one of our guys or gals pay Metzer’s family a visit and see if they remember him. Maybe Metzer told one of them something about the prick.”
“Do it.”
There was another burst of merriment, accompanied by a flash of blond. This one did have green eyes and glasses. Sloane Walton in bloody murder red was in the center of a circle of men vying for her attention. Every muscle in my body went rigid. The erection I’d almost willed away was back in full force.
“Of all the hotels in all the capitals,” Nolan muttered. “You want me to stick around and make sure you don’t need help disposing of a bunch of bodies?”
“No. Go away.”
“I’ll have Petula ready with bail money,” he said, putting his empty glass on the bar and tossing me a salute.
I was already on the move, the gravitational force of Sloane pulling me across the bar like it was an inevitable event.
Every step that brought me closer made me angrier, more frustrated. I didn’t want to want her, but I didn’t want anyone else wanting her either. Wading my way through her admirers set my teeth on edge. She was sitting on a bar stool in a dress and lipstick that arrested the attention of any red-blooded male within a thirty-foot radius.
“What are you doing here?” I demanded crisply.
She tilted her head back to look up at me as I loomed over her. Those red lips pinched into a disapproving frown. “Oh, no. Not today, Satan.”
“Can I buy you another drink?” the guy on her right asked, trying to reclaim her attention.
“No, you can’t. Go home,” I snapped.
Sloane bared her teeth at me before turning to the moron hoping to get lucky. “Don’t listen to him. He’s permanently insufferable,” she said, laying her hand on his sleeve.
Two of the younger men behind her were whispering. I heard my name mentioned.
Good. The sooner this flock of idiots realized who I was and that I didn’t want them anywhere near her, the better.
“Uh, it was nice to meet you, Sloane,” the blond one with too many teeth said, shooting me a nervous glance.
“Yeah, we have to…uh…” His friend in too-tight Hugo Boss hooked a thumb toward the door.
“Go,” I snarled.
Most of the crowd scampered off like half-terrified squirrels.
“What is your problem, Lucifer?” Sloane demanded.
“The answer is always you.”
She slid off her stool and marched up to me. “I have an idea. Why don’t you go fuck yourself and leave me alone with…what was your name again?” she asked, looking toward the man who obviously didn’t know any better.
“Porter,” he said with a thick Southern accent.
Porter. I rolled my eyes. He was too eager, too “aw shucks, ma’am.” And I hated the fact that he made Sloane smile.
“I’ll make you a deal, Porter. I’ll pay your bar tab—including the drinks you’ve already bought my wife—if you leave in the next ten seconds.”
“Y-your wife?” he sputtered.
“I’m going to murder you with an olive skewer,” Sloane hissed.
Maybe I couldn’t make her smile, but I was the one who made the color rise in those smooth cheeks. I was the one who started the emerald fire in her eyes.
Porter held up both palms and took a self-preserving step back. “I’m so sorry, man. I had no idea.” His eyes darted back to the impressive cleavage on display above the square neckline of Sloane’s dress. “Uh, if it doesn’t work out, you go on and give me a call.”
The power of the woman’s draw was enough to override any instincts for self-preservation. I knew the feeling.
Sloane and I were too busy scowling at each other to watch him leave.
“Lina was right. You’re a cockblocker, Rollins,” she said, climbing back up on her barstool. The bartender appeared eagerly in front of her.
“Can I get you something, Sloane?” he asked.
“No. The lady was just leaving,” I said icily.
Sloane rested her elbows on the bar and cupped her chin. “Don’t listen to the tall, dark lord of the underworld. I’d love another dirty martini.”
The bartender’s eyes skated to me again. I shook my head.
“Sorry, Sloane. Boss won’t let me,” he said and disappeared down the bar.
She spun around on her stool. “The boss? You own this place?”
I couldn’t focus on her words. Only her mouth. Those red-slicked lips that had tortured and taunted me for years.
“Are you here with someone?” I demanded, drawing out the stool next to hers and sitting.
“I was about to be until you went all you on my starting line.”
I closed my eyes. She wasn’t here on a date. She was here to get laid. One night. One night, and we could put this all behind us finally.
“You’re not picking up a stranger in my hotel.”
Her spine straightened and she lifted her glass. Her nails were painted a sparkly purple. She wore a trio of bracelets on her right wrist and dangling earrings that danced when she moved.
“Fine,” she said. She drained the last of her martini and set the glass down on the bar. “I’ll pick one up someplace else.”