right through me to the nail salon somewhere behind me, and that slip of French Valir rolls off his tongue like an invisible kiss.
I don’t even know what the hell catin means, but I’ll surely make a point to find out after this.
“Look, I’m not trying to get a peek of … whatever ... you’ve got going on inside. I was supposed to be watching a kid. His mom went inside. I just want to grab him, before some shady businessman in a three-piece suit suddenly decides he likes lamb instead of mutton, you know what I mean?” The thought of that twists my stomach.
The guy’s lip twitches, as if he wants to laugh but refuses. On instinct, my eyes wander to his perfectly pressed clothes that fit him to a T, as if he’s had them tailored that way. This is a man who keeps a tight leash on himself, and it shows.
“And where is this boy now?” The air of boredom and disinterest clinging to his voice tells me this whole scenario is nothing more than an inconvenience to him.
My antics are keeping him from something more important.
“I’m guessing wherever your nearest bathroom is. He had to … number two.”
Again, something flickers across his face, and he clears his throat, turning to the big man still holding me captive. “You let a child inside?”
“Marcelle’s boy.”
“I never asked whose.”
“Yessir. My apologies, I just didn’ recognize the fille.”
Bedroom Eyes gives me another onceover, stopping somewhere in the neighborhood of my thighs. Then lower. Like he’s appraising my choice of footwear with the outfit. Maybe they don’t appreciate the homeless, wilderness girl look here as much as they do in the north. “I’ll let you come in to look for the boy … provided you hand over the knife tucked inside your boot.”
My jaw comes unhinged at that. How the heck did he know I was carrying a knife? In as subtle a gesture as I can muster, I wriggle my ankle to make sure it’s not sticking up, or something, and clear my throat. “I don’t …. I’m not carrying a knife.”
“You are. And you tried to bring it inside my establishment, which makes you seem awfully shady. Someone could get hurt.”
My eyes scan over him quickly, just as his did me a second ago. Unfortunately, his weapon is in plain sight, which makes my observation less impressive. “Says the man with the Glock at his hip?”
Seconds tick, and at some point, Justin’s going to be done doing his business. I’ve heard horror stories of little boys and girls getting molested in bathroom stalls, and I’ll be damned if that happens on my watch.
“Fine. Fine!” Frustrated, I stuff my hand down inside my boot, awkwardly bending forward in front of both men. “Jesus, you guys make it sound like you’re concealing missiles, or something, in there.” With a small bit of effort, I pull out the ridiculous knife Russ gave me out of my boot, glad I didn’t actually need it for self-defense, because I’d probably be a dead woman for all it took to slide the damn thing out.
When I hand it off to him, Bedroom Eyes wrinkles his nose, as if I’ve offended him, and jerks his head toward the Troll. “He’ll take it.”
“I want it back.”
“You’ll get it back when you exit my club.”
“How the hell did you know, anyway?”
Another sweep of those eyes. “Who the hell would wear boots this time of year?”
Touché.
“I should have you arrested for carrying such an ugly weapon.”
“It was a gift.”
“You must’ve been quite special to that person.”
“If you must know, I happen to appreciate ugly things. Take your attitude, for example. I could easily tell you to piss off, but I can appreciate that being a jerk is as much a part of your genetics as that pretty face.” Though my words are meant to mock him, the guy really does have a painfully pretty face, a fact that doesn’t seem to faze him much, as he stands looking completely unamused.
Once I’ve handed off the knife, Troll lowers his arm, allowing me passage, and as I scoot past the man in black, I can’t help but notice the size of him, and how absolutely imposing he is, even with his casual stance. I feel like I’ve just had the most invasive pat-down of my life with this man’s eyes. He’s definitely more than what he seems on the surface, and I would bet what’s buried below is something sinister.