Sin (Vegas Nights 1)

Not that I’d understood Fergus’ rant in its entirety, but there was something about a giant penis, a text message, and his ex being an insult I didn’t actually manage to decipher.

I’d patted him on the shoulder and moved on. He’d calm down eventually. Like…next week.

For now, I was still focused on Damien. Too focused, if I was being honest with myself. It was the day’s miniature obsession, and considering I still had books to put on the shelves in the bar, it wasn’t a good time to be obsessing.

I wanted to fix the situation he was in. The pain I’d seen in his eyes when he’d mentioned what had happened with his sister had actually hurt to see. In the weeks I’d known him, the most passionate emotion he’d ever shown was when he was buried eight inches inside my damn vagina.

Had he ever addressed his relationship with his sister? I didn’t know what he meant when he said he had someone keeping an eye on her, but the fact was only one person should be keeping an eye on her, and that was him.

He wanted to. It was written all over his face.

But how did he cross that bridge?

I left that thought hanging in my office as I headed back toward the bar. It wasn’t open yet, so I had plenty of time to get the boxes and put the books on the shelves.

“Hey,” I said, walking out to the bar and spotting Abby.

She jerked her head up when she heard me. “Hey. When did you get here?”

“Not long ago. Were you sorting the order?”

Nodding, she put little bottles of tonic water into the fridge. “Makes sense. Are all those boxes books?”

“The ones on the tables? Yeah. They’re all labeled, but I need to organize them. I’m thinking I might do them properly this time.”

“Good thinking. Just don’t mix the big books with the little books.”

“Never. That was my mom’s thing. It drives me insane when they aren’t done by size.” I put my phone down next to the boxes and opened the first one.

Taking every book out and putting them on the tables was a long, arduous process. The organization even more so—and unfortunately, the tediousness of the task opened my mind up to think back to the very things I was trying to avoid thinking about.

Perrie. Was she Perrie Fox? If Damien’s father had adopted her, surely she’d have his surname. Or had she changed it after her estrangement? Maybe back to her biological father’s?

The name itself wasn’t too common. It was different—not like Abby’s. If I asked someone if they knew an Abby, they probably knew five. Perrie was a different story.

“Hey, Abs?” I called, stepping back and admiring my handiwork on the first shelf.

“What’s up?”

“Do you know anyone called Perrie?” I looked over my shoulder.

She stood behind the bar, frowning. “That’s random. Why?”

That wasn’t an answer. “Damien told me a whole bunch of stuff about his family last night. He and his sister are estranged, and—”

“You want to find her.”

“Well, yeah.” I picked up three books and set them on the next shelf carefully. “He has someone keeping an eye on her—”

“Slightly weird. Have you considered he might know exactly where she is?

No. I hadn’t. “You might get an answer to that if you didn’t interrupt me.”

She poked her tongue out at me.

“For the record, no, I hadn’t considered that.” I paused. “But I think he’s afraid to connect with her.”

“Damien Fox? Afraid to speak to someone?” Abby snorted. “Try another line.”

“It’s a complicated situation. There’s a lot of water under the bridge that probably won’t be fixed with one conversation. It’s not as simple as you might think it is.”

“Whatever. I just don’t get why you have to get involved. I know you and him are in this weird, hate-to-love relationship thing, but this is his problem, not yours.”

“Scale back on the bitch pills,” I told her. “And maybe it’s not my business, but if I could help him fix it…”

“Fix what? Let’s face it—it was probably his fault. He’s not exactly the easiest person to get along with.”

“I get along with him just fine.”

“Now. You didn’t before.”

“I sometimes wonder how I get along with you.”

She flipped me the bird.

“Girls!” Fergus flounced in, flapping his hands like tiny, awkward wings in front of his chest. “Don’t fight. Tell me what’s happening.”

Abby relayed a very quick, very sarcastic recap.

“Perrie?” Fergus met my eyes. “I know Perrie.”

“You do?”

“Sure. She did the books in the club I worked at.”

“You stripped?” Abby’s shriek sliced through the air.

“Surprise,” Fergus said, barely glancing at her. He crossed the bar to me and sat on a table, then folded his arms across his chest. “Yeah, I remember when she ‘disappeared’ as it was put by Fox Sr. She was there, then she was sick, and then she was gone. Fox Sr. tried to play it off as her going away to college, even though he’d previously expressed his belief that his kids didn’t need college degrees. Most people believed him, but the thing is, nighttime in Vegas is nighttime in Vegas. All you gotta do is know someone who knows a person who knows the butcher’s cousin’s ex-boyfriend and then, just like that, you have the truth.”