“The display?” I offered.
“Yes,” she declared, giving me a nod. “Good choice.” She turned to Nolan then, and took both of his hands in hers. “Since no one missed that display, we need to talk, you and I.”
His mouth opened, but he’d apparently gone mute.
“Croy,” she whispered, “will you excuse us?”
I was mortified that I was still there. “Sorry. Let me know if you need me.”
She nodded before taking a breath. “Let’s talk, Nolan.”
That was my cue, so I pivoted and made for the door as I heard his husked “Oh” behind me. I didn’t envy either of them the talk they were about to have.
Because I was thoughtful, I locked the door and pulled it closed gently, quietly, so no one could interrupt them before they were ready.
“What are you doing?” Dallas snapped at me as I made my way back to the main room.
“Listen,” I told him, smiling and unable to stop. I always thought my life was kind of a mess, I wasn’t as together as I seemed, but compared to Brig and the people in his life, I was the goddamn Rock of Gibraltar. “Things are coming together.”
“Oh, are they?” He scowled, and the lines in this forehead deepened along with the one between his eyebrows. “What things?”
“You’re the special agent, you figure it out.”
“I know facts, that’s all,” he almost snarled.
“Hold on,” I said quickly, crossing the room to Chase.
“Oh God, what?” he groaned, looking at me before he took a long gulp of the drink in front of him.
“Is that vodka?” I asked, horrified that he was drinking it straight.
He grunted.
“All right, Brig and Eric are in our room, talking”—I hoped to God that’s all they were doing since I had to sleep in there—“so I wouldn’t try to go in there, and Astor is in her room, packing.”
“I’m leaving in the morning,” he informed me. “I’ve had as much of this celebration as I can possibly take. This weekend is a bust.”
I had to agree.
“Where’s Digby?” he asked absently, taking another big gulp of his drink, finishing it off and taking the next one that Kent passed him.
“Brig didn’t want him around anymore,” I lied, because the DEA was still going to try to use him to catch some smaller, blue blood fish, and it wasn’t my place to blow their undercover operation, or whatever it became. “So he went home.”
“Good,” he said, sighing deeply before reaching out and taking hold of my shoulder. “You’ve been a real lifesaver, Croy. If you’re ever in Bridgeport, please look me up.”
I nodded and thanked him, because that was the human thing to do, but it was never going to happen. I’d spent a little less than twenty-four hours with Brig Stanton’s “crew,” and I couldn’t have cared less whether I ever saw a single one of them again.
Dallas Bauer, however, had all my interest. Him I wanted to dissect.
“Get home safely,” I replied to Chase, careful not to smile since I knew it would look not only fake but pained as well.
“I will,” he said, sighing as Aiden walked up beside him and draped his arm around his shoulders, leaning in close before he eased him away from the bar.
Watching Aiden lead Chase over to the group he was sitting with, I turned to find Dallas right behind me.
“Oh,” I said, startled, “I was coming back to talk to you.”
“How would I know that? You just walked away.”
“I told you to hold on,” I reminded him, surprised at how snarly he was, irritable and prickly. “Which basically translates to wait.”
“I don’t wanna wait,” he growled, his brow so furrowed that it looked permanent. “I want you to fuckin’ siddown and talk to me.”
“How could I say no to such a charming offer?” I teased him. The glare I got in return was more petulant than scary. “Come on, let’s sit,” I directed, grabbing hold of the lapel of his suit jacket and pulling him after me over to the sunken living room.
Flopping onto one end of a supple leather couch, I yanked him down beside me so we were shoulder to shoulder.
“Talk,” he ordered, but didn’t move, didn’t straighten up, content, it seemed, to be wedged against me.
“I think,” I began, turning my head to look at him, at the coppery scruff on his face, his carved mouth and hooded eyes, “that Brig is letting Eric know what he wants his future to look like, and that Nolan is, right at this very second, finally making his feelings clear to his brother’s ex-girlfriend before she rips out his heart and feeds it to him.”
“Wait,” he groused, holding up his hand, and then stopped. “What?”
“Your op is running concurrently with people figuring out the rest of their lives.”
“No-no-no—I don’t have time for this shit.”
“I don’t think what you have time for is really of any consideration.”