Page 182 of Remy

“Stay focused, Ollie. Now’s not the time to be offering hand jobs.” I shift slightly, helping her dig into my pocket and retrieve the fob. “I’m going to need you to excuse yourself to use the ladies. Announce it casually, but loud enough for our friends to hear.”

“Okay.”

“Once you’re out of view, I want you to find a back or side exit. Try the kitchen?—”

Her eyes widen. “I’m not leaving you.”

“It’s only temporary. I’ll follow as soon as I can. I just need you to escape without causing suspicion, then get in the Escalade and be prepared to drive away from here as soon as I walk out the front doors.”

“Remy, I can’t.” Her touch lingers on my pants, her fingers latching around my pocket. “I’ve been drinking.”

“The least of our worries is a drunk-driving charge. I want you to focus on listening to me so I can get you out of here.”

Her teeth dig into her bottom lip. Biting. Gnawing. “I’m nervous.”

“That’s a healthy response. But all you have to do is follow instructions. I know what I’m doing.”

She sucks in a deep breath and sits taller. “Okay. I’ll be waiting.” She scooches an inch away. “I need to use the bathroom,” she announces at the perfect volume. Casual, yet loud enough to have the closest threat cock his ear in our direction.

“Get me a scotch on your way back?” I ask.

“Sure.” Ollie nods without retreating any farther. Instead, she hovers there, posture tight, eyes pained, gaze lowering to my mouth.

Is she seriously contemplating kissing me? Right fucking now?

I can’t unsee it. The yearning. The concern.

And goddamnit to hell, I can’t help craving it, too.

“This is a mistake,” I mutter as I grab her wrist and tug her back to me, smashing my mouth against hers.

It’s a swift press of lips.

Hard. Fast. Fierce.

But fuck, even with the complications currently sitting in the next booth, it makes my dick pound.

She barely has time to release the softest of whimpers before I pull back and scowl through my lacking restraint, struggling to keep my breathing under control.

It takes a few seconds for her to blink the daze from her eyes, then she slides out of the booth. “Scotch on the rocks?”

I nod, proud of her for continuing the drink charade.

“I won’t be long.” She turns on her heel, her dress dancing around her ankles, then heads for the signposted hall leading to the bathroom across the other side of the room.

As soon as she’s out of view, I pull out my phone and type a text to Valenti.

Me

I’ve got trouble. Any ideas why I’m on the Irish radar?

I press send and place the cell down on the table, my attention moving to the guy closest to me who turns to meet my eyes.

“I swear I’ve seen you before.” He squints. “What’s your name?”

I raise my gun under the table, aligning it with his back. “Who’s asking?”

“I dunno, maybe an old friend. Who knows where we’ve met?”

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