The club was loud, the music visceral, but interestingly enough, the drinks were not watered down. At all. It made no sense until I realized the stunningly beautiful six-foot-tall Nubian goddess of a bartender knew Eli. Whatever he passed me nearly burned the back of my throat.

“The fuck was in that?” I asked after I gulped it down.

“Moonshine!” He cackled in my ear. “Bourbon, scotch, whiskey, rum, and mescal.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” I groused as Daley snickered on the other side of me, sipping a whiskey cola.

“Even the smell of that glass is enough to make me drunk,” Eli teased, arm draped around my shoulders.

“I need my liver, you know,” I muttered, taking the old-fashioned he passed me. After a long sip of the drink, I tasted the heavy hand of bourbon in that as well.

Eli laughed into my neck before following a beautiful woman out onto the dance floor, with Ira trailing him. I drained the glass and then felt hands on my hips before Daley took my empty, left it on the table, and piloted me into the crowd.

Dancing in a group was fun. I hadn’t been for ages since it was not something Ian enjoyed, and truly, I didn’t miss it that much; it was never my forte. But I used to go with my girls when we were in college, and with them, like now, lots of people moving together, acting stupid, nothing serious, buzzing from a few too many drinks, it was a good time.

The music never stopped, never slowed, so we were all sweaty and laughing, and when we finally stopped to hydrate, our table had been taken over, so we headed toward the lounge area. I detoured to the bathroom before my bladder burst, ran some water through my hair after washing my hands, gave my face a quick splash as well, and was finished and on my way back out, walking down the hallway, when I was shoved against the wall.

It was instinctive to fight. Some of it, the heart-pounding, head-clearing spike of adrenaline was from dealing with Craig Hartley, my psyche as permanently scarred as my body. The rest of it, the way I rounded instantly, fists raised, braced for battle, was all training, first as a cop and then as a marshal. The only reason I didn’t pull my gun was because I was wearing an ankle holster, but all I needed was enough room to crouch and draw. When I hit whoever knocked me into the wall, that would give me the space I needed.

Daley’s laughter caught me by surprise, and then my brain registered “maybe friend and not foe.” I didn’t relax, though, so all things considered, Daley was lucky I hadn’t hit him.

“I guess I should know better than to jump a federal marshal.”

“Hey,” I rasped, taking a breath, calming, forcing a smile, not comfortable in my own skin yet, needing another few seconds. “You—”

He stepped into my space, took my face in his hands, and would have kissed me, but I took hold of his wrists and pushed him back harder than I should have. I didn’t hurt him, but as the motion came directly on the heels of him ambushing me seconds earlier—it was more abrupt than it should have been. Feeling bad about overreacting, I did two things at once: I made certain he couldn’t complete his motion and kiss me but rendered him immobile at the same time. And even though he was a big, strong guy, I did have a lot of muscle on him.

Everything happened in quick succession, so it was not surprising when his eyes went wide. It took that extra moment for my brain to make the jump from keeping him off me to what was actually going on. He’d tried to kiss me, and now he was looking at me like I’d kicked his puppy. I had to clear things up, so I held tighter when he tried to pull away.

“Wait, no, it’s not like that,” I soothed, quickly knowing exactly where his mind had gone when it appeared I was rebuffing his advances. “I am gay.”

“Then what?” he asked angrily. He knew what he looked like—handsome man, great body, with tight, compact muscle—and there had to be reason I was telling him no.

“I’m married, so I can’t kiss attractive men anymore.” I saw the alarm wash away from his handsome features, and understanding flooded them instead. “Sorry,” I whispered.

All his irritation and confusion was gone in an instant, and for that, I was thankful. I’d been there myself many times in the past, hitting on the wrong guy. “For what?”

I shrugged. “I dunno, sending the wrong signals, maybe.”

He shook his head, reaching up to push my hair out of my face. “You didn’t. I just got excited meeting someone so pretty and funny.”

Tags: Mary Calmes Marshals Crime
Source: readsnovelonline.net