Demon Fire (Angel Fire #3) - Marie Johnston Page 0,79
to dust,” he growled.
He’d expected fear, but she giggled. “Ooh, are you already possessed?” She reached for his arm, but he jerked it back. “I don’t see a barbed wire tattoo.”
A tall man dressed in a black suit with a black shirt and black tie marched down the line toward him. “Hey, man. Go on in.”
The three selfie girls inhaled, their mouths dropping. He’d thought they’d be incensed, but they stared at him like he was a celebrity.
Had he been busted already? As he walked toward the entrance behind the bouncer, he thought back to Alma’s house. No, Jim hadn’t seen him. The accident? No again. Was it from the sporting goods store? Was that how he’d been busted? He’d been wearing a puffy winter coat and a stocking hat and his beard had been out of control.
The bouncer ushered him. “Our pussy count is way too high.” He leaned in. “Gotta throw ’em some sausage.”
Okay . . . “Thanks, man.”
The bouncer gave him a knowing nod, like he lived for the power of pulling people from the back of the line.
Laughter and loud voices competed with the deafening music pumping through Boone’s eardrums. He’d have a headache for a week after this. Bodies bumped into him on either side as he wound his way through the throng at the bar.
He grabbed the first open stool he could find. A bartender wearing a crisp white button-up shirt with suspenders spun toward him. He took the whole ensemble farther with a gelled handlebar mustache. “What can I get you?”
“Whiskey sour.” Boone would sip the drink slow, and he’d eaten a burger and fries before he’d left the house. If he lingered in the club for two hours trying to determine whether Sierra was here or not, he’d only have to nurse two, leaving a little in the glass each time so he didn’t get the full load of alcohol before he had to drive.
But unlike when he was an agent, he was drinking on this mission. The first two minutes of trying to deceive someone were the most important. Ordering water or a Shirley Temple was as good as hanging a neon sign over his head that read FAKE.
A few minutes later, the bartender slid the glass in front of him. He took a sip, wincing. Heavy on the sour. Juiced-down drinks were even better. He could go for three and stay longer.
Spinning on his seat, he propped an elbow on the table. The dance floor was packed. A cage at each corner had a body writhing to the music in it.
He missed his quiet mountain cabin.
Each minute crawled by. Women walked by. Some looked him over, a few gave him demure smiles. One licked her lips. But, thankfully, they all passed. He finished his first whiskey sour and ordered another.
A woman in a tight black cocktail dress and a barbed wire tattoo circling her bare right arm sidled next to him and shoved herself between him and the guy next to him. “Heya, handsome. I see you have a loneliness problem.”
He didn’t look at her, but took a slow sip. “Maybe I want to be lonely.”
“Then you wouldn’t be here,” she purred.
“Why’s that?” He finally looked at her. She was pretty enough. Long lashes, lush auburn hair. She was closer to his age than many of the women in here, but her body helped her jump the line. Still, nothing stirred inside of him. She wasn’t a petite blonde wearing a pea-green shirt and ugly brown leggings.
“Loneliness, anger, desperation, jealousy. Same deep dark feelings that drive us all here.”
The woman had accurate insight. He grunted instead of replying.
She traced her finger over his pec. He drained most of his drink and put his glass on the table. When he’d been undercover, he hadn’t cheated on his wife. He and Sierra hadn’t talked about them as a couple, but this woman’s touch was wrong.
She pouted. “Are you leaving?”
“Yeah.”
She pushed her body against his and he tensed, his first instinct to shove her away. “Want me to join you?”
“No, thanks.”
She huffed and threw her hands out. “I watched you sit by yourself for two fucking hours and not talk to anyone. What the hell are you here for anyway?” She slinked closer. “What brought you here?”
He’d come up with a story about guys at work pissing him off and wanting revenge, but the woman’s comments about his feelings hit him. If he hadn’t had a cabin in the middle of nowhere, what