I think about the situation as I approach the door. I know it’s not illegal for cops to send a person in wired, but they wouldn’t usually send a civilian in. I’ve been given clearance because of my profession and training. Not to mention York is the head of his team and has never done anything to risk someone’s life. He’s a smart man. He thinks before he acts, and he wouldn’t send me in if he didn’t think I could do this. However, there’s still a small chance this could go bad.
When I reach the door, I look up at the large man standing beside it. I flash him my best smile and he narrows his eyes. My guess? I’m not the usual kind of girl who comes to these kinds of places. I can already tell the bar isn’t the nicest. It’s old, run-down, and there are shitty cars parked all around it. Not that that means anything sinister, but usually people who own cars like those don’t have a great deal of money. So it’s a cheap bar, and with cheap comes drama.
“You got ID?”
I raise my brows. This guy is asking me for ID when I’ve seen at least three underage girls go through the doors. “Are you serious?” I say.
He crosses his arms. “Yeah, I am.”
With a sigh, I pull out my ID and hand it to him.
He actually holds it up to the light to see if it’s been tampered with, squinting his eyes and running his fingers over the surface. Seriously? I mean, I guess I should be flattered but honestly, this guy is just being a jerk. He finally nods and hands it back to me. “Go in.”
“Gee, thanks,” I mutter.
I step past him into the club and stare around the crummy space. I know what Dean looks like, I was presented with recent photos before I came in here. I push past the groups of people and receive a few catcalls. When I sit down at the bar, I order a vodka and orange so I don’t look suspicious. Then I settle in, sipping it while I stare around the bar, looking for Dean.
“What’s a pretty girl like you doin’ in here?”
I turn and see a skinny, strung-out, scary-looking dude grinning down at me. He’s got two teeth missing and his blond hair is flopping over his head, covering most of his eyes, which I can clearly tell are bloodshot. A junkie. Wonderful.
“Just waiting for a friend,” I say, turning back to my drink.
“Say, girly, do you have a buck I could borrow?”
A buck? Honestly? “Nope.”
“Not even one.”
“Nope.”
He stands there for a minute, silently, and then I feel his fingers touching my purse clutched by my side. Seriously? I spin and take hold of his hand, twisting it hard.
He cries out and starts jumping from side to side.
“Get your hands off my purse.”
I let him go and he stumbles backwards. “You’re crazy!” he cries, rushing off.
Yes, yes I am.
I turn and see Dean standing at the bar, smiling over at me. I have to compose myself quickly, because I’m shocked to see him standing there. I gather myself and give him a lighthearted shrug as I take him in. Dean isn’t a bad-looking man. He’s tall, quite well built, and has the darkest brown eyes I’ve ever seen. His dark brown hair is cut into a buzz cut, and if he were healthy, I’d look twice. But he’s not healthy. His cheeks are hollow, the skin under his eyes is dark, and he’s got clear track marks on his arms.
Junkie.
“You do that to many men?” he continues.
“If I have to,” I say, turning to my drink.
“What brings a girl like you to a place like this?”
Here’s my chance. “My boyfriend dumped me on the side of the road after I found out he put his dick where it didn’t belong, and that place wasn’t me. I confronted him, he got angry and kicked me out. I walked and this was the closest place.”
“What an asshole,” Dean says, sitting down.
Bingo.
“You’re telling me? I mean, what’s wrong with men? Am I that unattractive that he has to go ahead and do that?”
Dean’s eyes scan over me. Then he grins. “You aren’t unattractive, in fact, I think you’re the prettiest girl I ever saw.”
God.
I want to punch him.
“Thanks.” I smile sweetly. “What’s your name?”
“Dean.”
I reach out my hand. “Suzanne.” I am not about to give him my real name.
“Nice to meet you, Suzanne,” he says, curling his fingers around mine and shaking. “Tell me more about this jackass while I buy you another drink.”
“How sweet, and please, call me Susie.”
This is going really well.
*
“What a pig!” Dean cries, shaking his head. “Men like that make me want to commit murder.”
I’ve made up a long, horrible story about my boyfriend who dumped me, and Dean has bought every bit of it. Three drinks down and he’s comfortable enough for me to drop Raide’s name. I take a sip of my drink, nodding enthusiastically at the man I really want to hurt. He’s a pig, the fact that he’s sitting here saying how horrible my “boyfriend” is just makes me want to squeeze his throat. Considering he took the life of his girlfriend.
Pig.
“Right?” I cry, throwing my hands up. “What sort of man does that, anyway? I always knew he was bad for me. My sister, she said to me, ‘Susie, that Raide is bad news.’ I should have listened.”
Dean’s face drops, and I want to throw my hands in the air and squeal with delight. He says, “Your boyfriend’s name was Raide?”
“Raide Knox. What sort of name is that anyway?”