Page 74 of Sin City Lights

Her fingers tightened on the stem of her glass. Slowly, she turned her head, her gaze traveling down his torso with narrowed eyes.

He gave her a knowing smirk.“Like what you see?”

Eve spotted a small white rectangle sticking out of his jacket pocket, dangling from the end of a lanyard.

She reached toward him. His eyelids lowered.

“I might, Mr.—” she grasped his ID badge, flipped it over, and brought it up to read “—John Mills, from Tulsa, Oklahoma. But I doubt your wife would want me looking.” She tossed it, landing it on the bar in front of him.

His jaw slackened. Eyes widening, he palmed his badge and shoved it deep into his pocket, crimson slowly creeping up his cheeks.

Muttering something under his breath, he raked a hand through his hair and stood.

He couldn’t get away fast enough.

Good riddance. Eve shook her head. She’d come upon so many of his type, but at least those she had taken on were honest.

She glanced at her phone. 9:15.

Adam was now forty-five minutes late.

The unease that had begun to nag at her gripped her in earnest. The man flew planes, and even though logic told her she was being paranoid, a part of her was still on edge because, sometimes, bad things did happen.

Had something happened?

A chill tugged at her gut. She couldn’t go there. She just couldn’t.

The chatter of the patrons suddenly sounded like a hornet’s nest. There had to be a perfectly good explanation for this. She couldn’t see Adam standing her up.

Maybe he’d just forgotten?

After last weekend? That made no sense.

She should have been relieved that he hadn’t shown, but what she felt was the opposite.

The minutes continued to tick by torturously, and when an hour had passed, she was numb with concern.

The thought of something having happened to him had her nearly paralyzed. If there hadn’t been a problem with his plane, perhaps he was sick. Or hurt. Or…

Eve stopped her mind from spinning. Whatever it was, she was done wondering.

She caught the bartender’s attention, then retrieved her clutch, extracting a few bills to pay her tab.

Smoothing her hands over the skirt of her purple dress, Eve found her phone and quickly texted Charlie.

Please pick me up out front.

We’re going to the Lark.

Adam

He was beat.

Adam tossed his keys into the glass bowl he kept on the side table by the door and hit the button that turned on the night illumination scene. Strategically placed, warm lighting instantly glowed, and soft jazz played from hidden speakers, but nothing could soothe him this evening.

He needed a drink.

He shrugged out of his jacket, draping it on a black leather chair, and headed directly for the wet bar.

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