Yes, men like Brent were very easy to understand and to dismiss.
It was men like Dylan who could rip a woman’s heart right out of her chest.
Sighing, she glanced back toward Aidan.
He raised a brow. “Want me to trash that card for you?” The Irish rolled lightly in his voice.
“Yes.” Definitely.
He grabbed it, ripped it up and tossed it. “Done.” His eyes gleamed. “Next order of business...a free drink for my grandpa’s favorite girl.”
“Thank you.”
“How about we just try Paddy’s Whiskey again,” he said as he began to prepare her drink.
Rachel rested her hands on the bar. Her shoulders rolled as she tried to dispel the tension from her body.
“Why do you look so sad tonight?” Aidan pushed the drink toward her.
Someone shouted his name, but he didn’t look away from her.
Her fingers curled around the glass. “I don’t like being wrong about people.”
He tilted his head as he watched her. “But people lie.”
She nodded. “They trick you, and you don’t see it coming.” She took a sip of the drink. It seemed to warm the cold spots inside of her. “I quit my job today.” Her eyes widened when she blurted out the words.
He smiled. “Surprising, isn’t it? What folks will say to the bartender.” He shook his head. “Oh, the stories that I’ve heard...”
She took a longer sip.
“Your guy isn’t going to come storming in here again?”
Maybe. As soon as Dylan discovered that she’d quit the EOD, he might come looking for her.
“I was worried about you,” Aidan said, the faint amusement fading from his gaze. “I’m glad you weren’t killed.”
“Me, too.”
“I know a bomb blast when I see one,” Aidan added as his voice lowered. “Not some engine malfunction or gas leak like the news is trying to say.”
No, it hadn’t been. That was just Mercer trying to do damage control and make sure folks in the city didn’t panic.
“If you’re in trouble, I can help,” Aidan told her. Again, someone called his name. He waved them away. “So I say again... What can I do?”
He’d already done it—given her an ear...and a good drink. “I’m all right,” Rachel told him. “But thank you.”
Aidan gave her another long, slow look then he answered the calls from the other end of the bar.
Rachel finished her drink. Left a hefty tip, then slid back out through the crowd.
She stayed close to the shadows as she made her way to her apartment. Her steps were slow, and tiredness pulled at her. She knew that Mercer had sent a guard to keep an eye on her place. That would just be standard EOD protocol after the blast. Whether she was an agent or not, Mercer would watch after her.
And Dylan?
Her steps slowed. She turned and rested her back against the brick wall of the pub. A small alley snaked down the left-hand side of the building.
She glanced at the alley then looked back across the street. From that alley, a person would have a perfect vantage point to watch her apartment.