Tricks (Take It Off #6)(20)
Author: Cambria Hebert

We were dropped off at a bar I’d never noticed before just a few blocks from our place. I was a little wary to go inside. I mean, what if it was unsafe? What if this was the kind of place that pedophiles congregated in to think about their next kidnapping.

I stopped walking.

What if the men who tried to kidnap me were inside?

“Charlotte?” Max said, turning to face me.

“This place could be full of criminals,” I said.

He laughed. It was a deep laugh. “It’s a piano bar.”

“A piano bar?”

“Yeah, can’t you hear the piano playing?”

Well, now that he mentioned it… “Criminals might like pianos.” I pointed out.

“Is there an off switch for the lawyer in you?”

I felt my eyes widen. “Excuse me?”

“Come on, Charlie, you need a drink.”

“Who the hell is Charlie?” I yelled as he dragged me toward the entrance.

“Charlotte,” he corrected.

“Charlie is a boy name,” I muttered as he paid the cover fee and we were waved inside.

Piano music filled the air, along with the deep tone of someone singing what sounded like an Elton John tune. The lighting was low in here, round tables scattered the room, and in the center was a giant wooden piano along with a small stage and various other instruments propped along the wall. People were laughing and singing along to the music. Waitresses weaved through the tables with trays full of drinks and chips.

“So what do you think?” Max said as he turned to me. “Are we gonna stay?” His smile was lopsided as he took my hand, waiting for me to give in.

The lawyer in me was ready to give a solid case of why we should leave.

The rest of me…

The rest of me wanted to stay.

He must have seen the look of surrender on my face because his smile turned smug as he towed me farther into the bar.

13

Tucker

I didn’t find it. I searched Max’s office endlessly. I looked in every possible place in the tiny space and came up empty.

And the phone.

His phone on the desk rang all day long. I stopped answering it after a while because I didn’t have answers to any of the questions being thrown at me. I didn’t understand his job or what he did. The corporate world was a long way from being an Armorer in the Marine Corps.

Don’t get me wrong, I liked money. It would likely be nice to have a lot of it. But for someone who never really had a lot of it, I didn’t understand why anyone would want to work with it and the people who had a ton of it all day long.

Money wasn’t everything.

But clearly Max had been good at his job. His office was organized meticulously, his notes were thorough, and everyone in the office seemed to like and respect him.

Except of course for the Wallace men. It sure felt good to imply that I knew he tried to kill me and that I still had the drive he wanted. It was like plunging a knife in a terrorist and twisting it just a little to watch them squirm.

I’d done it once. I would do it again.

Of course, every time I would see one of them and the looks they cast in my general direction, I began to realize that while baiting Wallace Jr. felt good, it wasn’t the smartest thing I’d ever done.

I pretty much painted a target on my back that screamed come and get me. They wanted me dead before and now they wanted it worse. They were going to come for me. It was just a matter of when.

I was going to be ready.

After I searched the office top to bottom and had enough of the damned ringing phone, I left. I didn’t tell anyone I was leaving. I just walked out. I even left my office unlocked. Why not? What they wanted wasn’t in there. I noticed a few gaping stares as I walked out, but I ignored them.

What were they going to do, fire me?

It was unlikely. They were going to want to keep me around so they could watch me.

I went the office gym and checked the locker that Max kept there (I told the attendant I lost my key so they cut the lock off and I bought a new one), but the only thing in the locker were gym clothes and a towel.

Next, I went to the bank to inquire about my safety deposit box, figuring Max had one. He didn’t.

Frustrated, I went back to the apartment and searched it. It was tedious because I couldn’t just toss things around. I had to be careful, not wanting Charlotte to realize I’d been going through everything.

I spent the entire day sexually frustrated, irritated, and practically watching two assholes plot my murder. Oh, and I didn’t find the damn drive.

I needed a beer. I needed several beers.

And then I ran into Charlotte.

She looked as exhausted as I felt. Even so, my cock hardened in my dress pants. I should have made up an excuse and left her there alone. I should have gotten the hell away from there fast.

But as I looked at her, I recalled when Wallace Jr. inquired about her safety. A fierce surge of protectiveness coursed through my veins. The thought of those bastards coming after her made my stomach sick. Men who hurt women deserved to rot in hell.

And I personally would escort them there.

I couldn’t leave her alone tonight.

Next thing I knew, we were walking into a piano bar and I was teasing her about her name. Hell, it was a freaking miracle I even remembered her name.

I glanced at her across the round table. She was wearing one of those damn suits and had her hair pulled severely away from her face. Her wide hazel eyes roamed the bar; it was like she was seeing everything for the first time. She was timid, but deep down she was curious; that much was obvious. She had an inner wild child just waiting to be unleashed.

A waitress wearing a black spandex top and a pair of skintight jeans approached the table with a small tray in her hand. “What can I get ya?” she asked in her Jersey accent.

I ordered a longneck and Charlotte ordered a glass of red wine. Yeah, maybe I should have ordered something more Max-like, but goddammit, I needed a beer.

A few minutes later, the waitress returned and I grabbed the beer and took a long pull. Both women were watching me. It was like they’d never seen a guy drink before. “Keep ‘em coming,” I told the server.

Charlotte studied me over the rim of her glass. I knew her brain was working overtime and I wondered what the hell she could be coming up with now.

She set the glass down in front of her like it was some sort of shield. “Are you trying to break up with me?” she asked, point blank.

I choked on the beer I was in the process of drinking and yanked the bottle from my lips. A trickle of the beverage ran down my chin and I used the sleeve of the jacket to wipe it away. “What?” I said, incredulous.