The Little Black Dress (Love in Las Vegas)

24. The Devil Doesn’t Date

Jared

Igrit out a curse as I pull to a stop. This is the fourth stoplight I’ve hit since leaving my place, and every single one of them turned red before I got there, forcing me to stop. Every minute of this journey already feels like an hour, and the moments I’ve spent sitting at intersections like this one have been brutal.

I know I’m being stupid.

Sophie is at a bar with her friends. She’s fine. Safety in numbers and all that.

But the second she texted me, and I realized she was drunk, my imagination went haywire. I immediately pictured her in all sorts of dangerous situations. Falling and hurting herself. Being hit on by some douchebag who wants to take advantage of her inebriated state. Even darker thoughts followed.

I made her tell me where she was and raced out to the garage, barely taking time to slip on some shoes before hauling ass across town. I just need to see her. To make sure she’s okay.

Because…a good assistant is hard to find.

“Yeah, that’s fucking it, Jared,” I mumble to myself as the light turns green and I push my foot against the accelerator.

By the time I get to the Red Scorpion, I’m a total mess. Swerving up to the curb, I hop out and toss my keys to the valet attendant, barely taking a second to accept the small red valet ticket from him as I jog toward the bar’s entrance.

Pausing to take a deep breath and run my fingers through my hair to smooth it, I pull open the door and step into the dark interior. I scan the room, and it only takes me a moment to spot Sophie. Even though her back is to me, that long, bright red hair is instantly recognizable.

And apparently, so am I.

The woman with long black hair sitting across from Sophie pushes herself up from her seat with a huge grin and lifts a hand to wave me over. I stay where I am, suddenly wondering why I’m here at all. Sophie is fine. Just like I knew she’d be.

And she’s turning to see what her friend is waving at. As soon as those big eyes land on me, her frown deepens. She faces forward quickly, slumping in her chair. Her friend is still beckoning me toward them, and the other, the blonde whose brother picked them up that night at the casino has joined in.

Heaving a sigh, I start walking toward them. I can’t leave now. I’d look like an even bigger idiot if I did, having driven all the way here just to look at them for two seconds before walking out.

“Hi, I’m Ava,” the ebony-haired one says as she pats the chair between her and Sophie. “And this is Zoey.”

“Hi,” the blonde greets me, and I give her a nod.

“Jared Hart,” I say, then let my gaze drift to Sophie.

She’s staring mulishly at a row of empty shot glasses on the table, and my eyebrows shoot up as I count six. Looking back at her, I study her boneless, slumped position and slowly bobbing head.

“You didn’t drink all six of those, did you, Red?” I ask, flinching at the condescension in my tone.

I didn’t mean for it to come out that way. Sometimes, especially when I’m upset or concerned, I can’t control it.

“What’s it to you?” she sasses back, her eyes finally lifting to meet mine.

“I just want to know if I need to take you to the hospital to have your stomach pumped,” I reply, my eyes narrowing at her insolence.

“She only had two,” Zoey says quickly, drawing my attention. “We’re making her drink a glass of water now.”

She nods toward the table, and I see a tall glass of ice water, beads of sweat dripping down the outside. It looks like it hasn’t been touched.

“Drink up, Sophie,” I say, reaching out to slide the glass closer to her.

“You can’t tell me what to do,” she huffs. “I’m not on the clock tonight.”

There is no clock when you work on salary, but I manage to stop myself from saying it. She’s already pissed I’m here, obviously, and trying to reason with someone who’s drunk and upset is a fruitless endeavor.

“So, Jared, what brings you here tonight?” Ava asks before taking a sip of her cocktail.

Her eyes are bright and mischievous as she studies me over the rim of her glass. She looks a little buzzed, but not nearly as drunk as the heated redhead on my other side.