Lust (Vegas Nights 2)

“I need the bathroom.” Perrie slid off her chair and walked past me without a word.

I pinched the bridge of my nose. That was the second time in the last hour. It was another distraction tactic and one I was growing very tired of. There wasn’t much I could do without her, and she knew it.

Was this another way she could get out of us making arrests? Was she slipping away anytime she saw somebody we could arrest? Was she giving them a chance to escape?

Leaving it up to fate, maybe? If they were still there after she’d come back, then she’d tell me?

Whatever it was, was ridiculous. I didn’t have the patience for it. Zac hadn’t mentioned his mom since our conversation in my office, but the problem was that every single time I saw a prostitute, I saw her face on their body.

The constant reminder of why I did this job.

The only person I hadn’t seen her face on was Perrie. I didn’t fucking know why, and that bugged me, too.

Bugged me more than I ever wanted to admit. I was all over the fucking place—an emotional mess of royal proportions. Nothing made sense to me, and I was thinking that I really needed a vacation.

Unfortunately, duty called before that.

My phone buzzed in my pocket. When I pulled it out, I saw it was a message from Sam.

Sam: Arrested Monica Kennedy.

Me: Good. Where next?

Sam: Got a tip that one of the strippers in Goldies is doing overtime.

Me: Thirty minutes to get information then you get out of there. Understood?

Sam: Got it.

I let go of a long breath. My nostrils flared as I tucked my phone back into my office. Goldies was risky. It was the original strip club set up by the Fox family way back when, and that family had nothing if not a damn good eye for spotting undercover cops.

If Benedict Fox got wind of us sniffing around, he’d cause a hell of a scene. As for Damien Fox—who knew? I’d never had to deal with him aside from passing meetings, but from the way Perrie balked every time his name was mentioned, I had to assume he was much the same as his father.

Perrie sighed as she took her seat back in front of me. She’d forgone the skintight dress tonight, instead opting for a black and gray number that hugged her to the waist before flaring out. It was shorter, and the high neck was no less tempting that the plunging one of the other night.

“Better now?” I asked, unable to keep the sarcasm out of my voice.

She turned and looked over her shoulder, eyebrows raised. “What’s bitten your balls?”

“Whatever bullshit you’re playing tonight.”

Her eyes darkened, and her lips twitched together in a little purse. “Don’t go there, Adrian. Trust me when I say I’m not in the mood.”

“You leave your personal life at the door. You don’t bring it in here with you. Mope in the car—not in the bar.”

“Sounds like a feisty life motto,” she said drolly. “Like I said—leave it, okay? I just want to do my job. If I need a few more breaks, let me take them. I’m not hurting anyone.”

“You’re hurting my patience.”

“You’re mistaken in thinking I give a flying fuck about your patience.”

The snap in her voice had drawn the attention of a few people around us. Something I didn’t want—attention.

I pushed our drinks back across the bar and grabbed hold of her hand. Yanking her off the seat before she even had a second to protest what I was doing, I pulled her through the people and out of the casino. The lobby was still too full of people, so I kept us moving until we were outside in a small garden area. Bright flowers escaped from between green leaves, and dim, outdoor lighting counteracted the setting of the sun.

“What the hell was that?” She snatched her hand out of my grip, her dark eyes alight with anger.

“That was you drawing too much attention to us.”

“Oh, yeah, because grabbing my hand and hauling me away like a caveman was the way to avoid a little extra.”

I stared at her flatly for a moment. Then, I took a step toward her. She wavered as if she wanted to step back, and for a second, I thought she would.

She didn’t. She planted her feet, straightened her spine, and looked me dead in the eye. “What the hell is your problem with me tonight?”

“I just made it perfectly clear,” I said in a low voice, one much lower than hers. “You’re unfocused. Your head isn’t where it needs to be. You keep disappearing for bathroom breaks. I’ve never seen so much bullshit in my life.”

“You have no idea what I’m dealing with right now.”

“Your personal life has no place where we are right this second.”