“Whoa, Hollywood. You got some hella big balls to stand in front of me. Hope you’re ready to lose them.” She hops off the man’s lap and reaches for a dinner knife. “You fucked with the wrong girl, because I will cut you for hurting her.”
A shard of guilt lances through me at the memory of Greer’s face twisting in pain. It’s the last thing I wanted, and yet I’ve always known it was inevitable. But she was supposed to let me pick up the pieces and fix things—not let her brother drag her off to God knows where.
“Uh . . . maybe you should put the knife down.” This comes from the guy adjusting his glasses and trying to smooth his hair back into its faux-hawk style after being destroyed by Banner’s wandering hands.
“No. This guy needs to pay.”
She doesn’t expect me to reach out and yank the knife away from her. Once I’ve liberated it, I slip it into my pocket.
“What the fuck, dude?”
“Where is she?”
Banner crosses her arms and glares at me mulishly. “Why would I tell you a damn thing?”
“Because I’m gonna make things right.”
Uncrossing her arms, Banner props her hands on her hips and tilts her head. “How the hell could you possibly do that? From what I hear, you’ve been lying since day one. She trusted you with her ass, and you broke that sacred trust. There’s no coming back from that.”
The guy coughs out a laugh, and my gaze cuts to him. “You repeat a word of this conversation and you’ll end up floating in the East River.”
His eyes go wide, and a flash of appreciation lights up Banner’s. Sensing my in, I seize it.
“I’ve done nothing but protect her. Even from myself. Let me fix this. Tell me where she is.”
Banner’s phone buzzes where it sits on the table.
“Is that her?” There’s no ignoring my demand.
Banner picks up the phone. “I have no idea who it is.”
“Check it.”
She raises both eyebrows to her hairline. “You bossing me around is going to get you nowhere.” Still, she unlocks her phone and checks the text message. She tries to keep her expression neutral, but I read more in it.
“It’s her.” My words aren’t a question.
Banner nods. “Give me one good reason why I should tell you where she is.”
I don’t hesitate. “I love her.”
She studies my face for several moments before holding out the phone. I reach for it, but she pulls it back before I can grab it. “If you fuck her over again, I will cut off your balls with a rusty knife. Is that clear?”
“Crystal.”
Banner drops the phone in my hand, and I read the text before forwarding both it and the number to my own phone. Then I delete both texts without the slightest hint of remorse. Banner doesn’t need to alert Greer to any of this.
I lock the phone and hand it back to her. “Thank you.”
I’m pushing open the door of the bar when I hear Banner’s screech of fury.
I’m in Logan’s truck at the four-way stop a couple hundred yards from Holly’s gran’s house.
“I wonder if he noticed I’m gone.”
“He’s a piss-poor security detail if he didn’t.” Logan’s tone takes on a judgmental note.
I look across the cab of the truck at him. “You ever been security detail?”
He shrugs. “For some people who pissed off Uncle Sam, on occasion.” He’s mentioned his military service, so his answer isn’t a surprise.
“Do you miss it?”
I ask the question to take my mind off the reentry I’m about to attempt. Nerves multiply in the pit of my stomach, and I’m doubly glad I stuck to my soda water and lime. Not only do I not need another hangover, I need to have my wits about me when I confront Troy German.
Logan rolls through the four-way stop and keeps the speed of the truck down as we approach the little house with the black SUV out front.
“I miss the brotherhood. Feeling like I was part of something bigger than myself. But sweatin’ my balls off in the desert and eatin’ sand? No. Don’t miss that.”
As we slow in front of the house, I ask, “How are we going to do this?”
“Not much you can do but tell him the truth.”
A grumble rises up from my throat. “Awesome. Great plan.”
Gravel crunches beneath the tires as Logan pulls the truck into the yard next to the SUV. Troy throws his door open before we even come to a complete stop. Logan’s windows are tinted, and with the help of the dark night, I hope I’m not visible yet.
Troy rounds the hood to knock on the driver’s side window, and Logan rolls it down. “You need to—”
Whatever he’s about to say dies when Logan turns on the interior lights and Troy sees me sitting in the passenger seat.
“Fuck.”
“She got bored. No one’s going to tell the boss unless you do, so you might as well let me walk the lady up to the front door and let her get some rest,” Logan drawls.
I, for one, think that sounds like an excellent idea, but who knows if straitlaced Troy is going to go for it. I hold my breath as I wait for his response.
“I’ve got relief coming in twenty minutes. She better get inside. I’ll tell him I just checked on her, so he won’t need to disturb her.”
My annoyance at being talked about like I’m not present is slightly mollified because he could be reaming me out, or worse—calling Creighton or Cannon, and then they’d ream me out. Somehow, in all of this, the men in my life have forgotten that I’m an adult, and I think tomorrow is the perfect time to remind them. I’m not spending another day cooped up in that house with no access to the outside world. I don’t care what Creighton or Cannon say, I’m done with this nonsense. I’m ready to go back to New York and piece my life back together.