Page 43 of Ruthless Wars

As I glance over her shoulder, the sight of an older man stepping over to join us wipes any amusement from my face.

“Good evening, Evie,” he says, his voice a low rumble. “You look beautiful.”

The two of them hug, which doesn’t stop my glare at the six-foot-four giant. I’d know him anywhere. It’s Everett fucking Long.

It isn’t until Everett steps back from Evie that his eyes seemed to spark—perhaps with recognition—and narrow on mine.

“Evie,” Everett says, his grip just below her shoulders. “I need a huge favor. Grab me a drink. Between Margot and Jean’s eagle eyes on me, I can’t get close to the bar.”

“You’ve got it.” Evie dons a devious grin, rubbing her hands together with glee. “Oh, but let me introduce you—”

“It’s fine,” I say, reassuring her with a light tap on the shoulder. “I’ll do the honors.”

Giddy, Evie scurries away, apparently thrilled at the task, and leaves me with the man I’d love to take down.

“You must be Coop,” Everett drawls, his easy tone the polar opposite of how I feel. “I’ve been hearing your name around the party tonight.”

“To my friends, I’m Coop.” The disdain in my voice is apparent. “To the rest of the world, Mr. Long, I’m Liam Cooper Byrne.”

I have no idea what to expect with the revelation that I know his name. A heated glare. A melodramatic gasp. Even, maybe, Everett walking away. Strangely, his eyes soften, giving the man a genuine look of surprise.

Well, that was anticlimactic.

After a strange silence passes between us, Everett finally speaks. “Are you ... Lily’s boy?” he asks, his face filling with wonder.

Suspicious and now cautious, I narrow my eyes. “That’s right,” I say slowly, masking my surprise. “You ask that like you know my mom.” That, or he’s just hurled the first warning shot for the mind-fucks to come.

Everett’s stammering is interrupted as Evie slips a lowball in his hand. “Bourbon neat. But if anyone catches you—”

“Catches you what?” Margot asks as she joins us, giving the foreboding man one hell of a stink-eye.

Casually, Evie takes the glass containing two fingers of liquor from Everett, gives it a swirl, then sips. “Thanks for holding that for me.”

The little game of pass-the-glass makes me smile, lessening the building tension from seconds ago. And Margot being this close is all I need to drop my shoulders and relax my stance.

The subtle smile breaking from her scolding glare is so damn kissable, my gaze automatically drops to her neck and shoulders, daring to scan the curves of her body before I can help myself. My lazy stare focuses as I step slightly behind her and notice her zipper. The teeth are pulling apart. Its hold won’t last long.

“Margot, you’re shivering. Are you cold? Here.” Without waiting for a response, I slide off my suit jacket and drape it over her shoulders, then instantly back away, giving us distance to keep people from wondering.

“Yes,” she says, quickly picking up on my insistent hint. “Thank you. I haven’t been feeling well.” Tugging the collar close against her neck, she shivers noticeably, most likely for her father’s benefit. “I was actually going to head out a little early and lie down.”

I can’t hide all of my smile. Always a temptress.

“My driver’s waiting if you need him.” Everett steps close to feel her forehead, taking a few good presses as he checks her eyes.

“I’m fine. I brought my car, and I hate being fussed over.”

“I don’t like you driving if you’re not feeling well,” he says, asserting himself with a paternal tone, but I interject.

“I’m happy to drive. My car’s outside, and I was about to take off, but ...” I raise my hand, giving a rushed wave across the room, a gentle summons for Allison. My gesture is caught by the helpful man now nudging her our way. “I really wanted to introduce you to my niece.”

As Allison approaches, Margot’s smile lifts. “We’ve met,” she says enthusiastically, greeting Allison with a warm smile and light embrace. “I had a chance to speak with her while you were taking forever to get back to our party.” Margot’s smirk is well played as she directs her next words to Allison. “Don’t be a workaholic like your uncle.”

“Yeah,” Evie says, pointing the now empty glass of whiskey wildly at them. “All work and no play make you a bore ... with premature wrinkles. And gives you a stick up your a—”

“Evie,” Margot says softly, “you might need a ride too, since I believe that’s your second double.” Her hand chases Evie’s wandering one, capturing the glass. “Coop, would you mind? We’re actually right around the corner from each other.”

“Not at all.”

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