“Not the one with the bright red hair, you can have that minx. I want the quieter one with the auburn coloring. Reminds me of sunrise.”
Daring’s mouth hung slightly ajar. Was Vice waxing poetic? What the bloody hell was happening? “That leaves Exile with the dark-haired loudmouth, Diana.” Daring eyed Exile over the table.
His friend gave a nod of ascent. “Fine with me.”
“It’s settled then. We each have a chat with our chosen girl, collect some sort of guarantee that she keeps our secret and then go about our business.” Whatever each man decided that business was.
The men around him nodded their assent but no one looked confident or happy. Daring understood. Deep in his gut he had the feeling that he’d never be the same again.