Mismatch - By Nana Malone Page 0,7
something? I know it’s a stretch.”
Eli nodded in the direction of the curtain. “Baby brother used to have a pretty ugly drug habit.”
Vince's good-natured expression immediately sobered. “Shit. I didn't know.”
Eli chuckled ruefully then shrugged. “It nearly killed him. So these days, when I know he's around temptation, I try and show up for a little moral support.”
Eli was impressed with how quickly Vince had morphed into concerned friend. “How long has he been clean?”
“Five years. Mostly he's solid, but he only started getting back into his art again this year. I’ve been helping him out with money and stuff, but he hates it. He thinks I don’t notice, but he's going to more meetings, and he’s edgy.”
Every time Sam disappeared for a few hours to think or work through something with a piece, Eli couldn’t help thinking the worst—Sam had slipped into his old habits again and was using, or just as bad, making necessary ends meet by forging the work of others just so he wouldn’t have to take money from his brother. Eli didn’t want that to be his automatic headspace with his brother, but they’d spent years fighting Sam’s demons. And Sam’s incredibly lucky ability to always come up with the money for bills at the last minute just awakened all the old ghosts. Venues like this came through, but when Eli stopped to think about it, he never could quite tie everything together.
“That's rough man, but you know he's not your responsibility, right?”
He’d heard that before. Everyone always tried to tell him that. They didn’t know he was the reason Sam had spun out all those years ago. “Yeah, I know. But he's still my brother. A little support never hurt anyone.”
“I’ll drink to that.”
Eli studied his partner. Maybe Vince was a better friend than he'd ever given him credit for. “So you’re telling me you didn't have anything better to do tonight?”
“You mean besides obsess over this case? No. If I went home tonight, I'd be shitty company for Carla, and I'd eventually head into my office and stare at my wall, trying to piece it all together. Better I'm sparing her.”
Eli nodded his understanding. He had the same obsessive tendencies. On a case, he was like a woman with a box of truffle chocolates; he’d shoot anyone who would try to separate them. “I appreciate the company.”
“We gonna hug now?”
Eli rolled his eyes. “You're the one who went all Oprah with your tell me your fee—” He stopped mid-sentence when he spotted a woman in a hot pink dress and lavender wig.
“Eli, you okay, man? What the hell are yo—” Vince stopped talking when he caught what had Eli’s attention. “Holy shit, man. That one looks like trouble.”
Wide blue eyes met Eli’s from across the crowded dance floor. In that four-second stare, his heart thudded faster and blood roared in his ears. There was a look of determination in her gaze that made him go rock hard. That determination, mixed with the sexy, pseudo-bad girl package had him wishing for somewhere more…private. Peripherally, he was aware of Vince saying something, but he kept his eyes glued to the woman. Leaning back, he flagged down the bartender from the other end of the bar. When Gabe came over, he shouted to be heard over the din. “Hey, Gabe, can you close out my tab? And tell Sam I was here, but to call me tomorrow.”
“Sure thing, E.”
Vince's voice finally pierced Eli’s concentration. “That’s all right, man, I wasn’t counting on hanging out, doing buddies night or anything. Just ditch me for the hot chick, why don’t you?”
Eli tore his gaze away from the woman to give Vince a what-the-fuck stare, only to find his partner laughing his ass off.
“Don’t be a moron. Go get her.”
Eli turned back to find her, but she'd vanished into the crowd. Well shit.
***
Jessica shifted uncomfortably under the scrutiny of the strange man’s jade green gaze. Tsk Tsk Jessica, you’re just horny from watching sex d'art. Poindexter isn't even my type. At least that’s what she told herself. But she was powerless to tear her gaze away from his. With dark hair to contrast the jade green eyes, and an angled jaw to make male models jealous, he was handsome enough to draw any woman's attention.
But he wasn’t her style at all. From the looks of him, he was way too buttoned up. His suit, though exquisitely tailored, was extremely conservative. Same for his shoes—expensive but bland. He screamed, I’m