Page 53 of Dirty Intentions

“Uh, just your last order. You can redact the amounts; I’m only interested in the box counts for each type of liquor.”

“Sure. You want to come back with me to the office?”

Nope. Not even a little. “If you don’t mind, I’ll wait out here.”

“No problem.”

He was back in ten minutes with papers in his hands and an apologetic look on his face. “Uh, spoke with Shane. Hope you don’t mind me verifying you’re with the club. He said to give these to you, but he was pissed you were here. Told me to tell you to get your ass back to your hotel room.”

I bristled. Not because the bar manager had called the club. I should’ve expected that. But because Shane was treating me as though I was under curfew. “Thanks for the paperwork, uh—Sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”

“Joe, and you’re welcome. And you’re not going back, are you?”

I smirked. “Nope. Suddenly I feel like a drink.”

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