motionless beneath me, I let go and took a breath. Holy crap. His energy was so vile that I doubled over and retched. I still had intermittent pain from the lion attack and torching, and the whole room was vibrating because of it. I scooted back and leaned against a pillar.
Flynn hovered. “Are you all right?”
Just then, Romeo and the woman sang out an orgasmic duet.
“We’re going to have to burn that sofa,” Flynn muttered.
The furry-chested boyfriend had fled the scene, and we were finally getting the upper hand. Claude pinned the bald Mage down while Simone struggled to get the Lone Musketeer under control as he waved the broken bottle at her. There were lingering spectators, but most had put distance between themselves and the chaos. A few were sitting at the bar, enjoying their drink as if nothing was happening. The music still played, but all the dancers were helping to keep the crowd away. A few people on Flynn’s team were cleaning the tables and chairs where dirty magic had spilled.
Ready to end this, I stalked behind Simone’s foe, locked my arm around his neck, and swept his feet out from beneath him. He dropped like a stone, and I wrested the makeshift weapon from his hand, cutting my own in the process.
Simone pounced on him like a lion and then slammed her hands against his chest. As an ominous red glow lit beneath her palms, I turned and walked away. I didn’t want to hear his screams in one ear and the cries of pleasure in the other. After crossing behind the bar, I reached for the bottle of tequila I’d hidden on a shelf. Bad energy coursed through me—Sensor energy. My arm was still bleeding, my eye swollen, and I couldn’t be certain if I’d lost a contact during the scuffle. I wrapped a towel around the cut to stanch the bleeding. The cut on my hand was superficial and had already stopped bleeding, so I wiped it off with a rag while watching Flynn and his men hauling bodies toward the back of the club. The servers righted the chairs while the dancers got back to dancing.
Officially off the clock, I poured myself a double.
“That was some show. I have to admit, half the fun of coming here is watching how well the bartenders handle the disorderly.”
I looked up at Mr. Crawford, who was combing his dark grey hair. I used to think guys like him were too sophisticated for clubs like this, but nothing surprised me anymore.
“You want a drink? I’m about to take off.”
He licked his bottom lip while sliding me a business card. “If you want to earn extra money, give me a call.”
I discreetly took the card and stuck it inside my shorts. “I’m free now. We can talk outside.”
A smile curved up his cheek. “Clean yourself up. Get some sleep. Then call me.”
Flynn appeared at the bar. “You all right?” He gave Crawford a long look that made me uncomfortable.
Mr. Crawford inclined his head and left.
Flynn watched him sit down by one of the caged dancers. “What did he want? Because it wasn’t a drink.”
“Nothing.”
“You should stay away from him.”
I wrapped my fingers around my glass. “Why?”
He rested his elbow on the bar and cast a critical gaze at Crawford. “Slander is against the law. Just trust me on this one.”
I knocked back my drink. “I’ve had enough for the night.”
“I wish I hadn’t been so bloody busy tossing everyone out. I would have loved to see all of it.”
While Flynn rambled on about the fight, my body flushed all over. An unstoppable heat pulsed through me, but it was nothing like the fire that burned me earlier. This was different.
Sexual.
Intense.
And it was building.
“You look flushed,” he said.
A relentless throbbing ached between my legs. The leather bra was suddenly making my nipples sensitive, and all I could think about were visuals of that couple having sex, of someone touching me, licking me, doing sinful things to my body.
As I moved to set my glass in the sink, my knees buckled, and I dropped to the floor. Being on all fours didn’t help either, because all I wanted was for someone to come up and take me from behind.
“Fuck,” I whispered. “What’s happening to me?”
“Robin!” Flynn darted behind the bar and knelt beside me. “Did you lose too much blood?”
Blood? What blood was he talking about? I no longer felt the gash on my arm, the bruises on my knuckles,