Page 65 of Recurve Ridge

“You know he will.” Jon planted his feet.

“I don’t think warming up to her is likely at this point,” I murmured, “though there’s a chance.” A slim one.

“I fucking won’t,” Miller grumbled somewhere around the region of my ankles. He disappeared into the dim light and then reappeared, his chest heaving.

I leaned over the veranda railing to peer into the depths beyond. “What the fuck are you doing down there?”

“Burying bodies.”

“Not under my fucking house.” Not that I cared, but the smell of dead things got to me after a bit.

“You’re in a right mood.” Alan pressed a froufrou of a pink drink into my hand. “Taste test?” He fluttered his lashes. Pastel pink glitter floated from his lashes onto the back of my hand. “Please?”

“Are you going to serve this to Mari?” I peered with no little dose of suspicion into the glittery depths, where tiny pearls danced in the bottom of the slanted glass.

“Thought it might sweeten Miller up.”

I snorted. “Good fucking luck with that.” Wrinkling my nose, I tossed the cotton-candy confection back. Sugar slapped the back of my throat. I prepared to gag on the rest when ginger and something green refreshed my palette. “That’s… good?”

“Excellent. Thank you.” Alan gave a swift bow, liberated my glass, and sashayed back to the bar.

My knees connected with the hardwood boards beneath my feet before I slumped. The ground came up at me fast. Both arms rose too slowly, and my nose crunched against the floorboards on impact.

“Six seconds. Might be your record. Good job,” Jon congratulated the stripper.

“Mmm. Could have overdone it on the sweetness.” Alan’s voice came from far away as I tried not to hurl the drink up on my own boots.

“That better not be for Mari,” I grated as I attempted to stand—and failed.

“Of course not.” Alan had the grace to look offended. “I would never hurt my girl.”

“She’s mine.” The words fell out of my mouth before I managed to raise my head all the way. Both knees solid beneath me, I tried to push up and couldn’t. I blamed whatever Alan had drugged me with that I felt zero embarrassment at exposing my feelings for Mari in front of them. “Not yours.”

“If you say so, sir.” Alan winked. “Stand?”

Biting back a groan, I pushed upward a second time. My legs trembled like a dancer with hungry feet, but they held. “Satisfied?”

Alan grinned and slapped me.

My cheek burned. Not a soft blow, but the kid had a plan, and I wasn’t privy to the intended outcome.

I stared. “Do you have a death wish?”

“Nope. Slap me back?”

“You do have a death wish.” I raised a hand—or at least I tried to lift one. Nothing happened. My fingers twitched at my side, but for the time being, my limits included not lying face down on the deck. “This better wear off.”

“I’m not wiping his ass,” Miller yelled from beneath us.

“Noted.” I took a swift catalog of body parts that appeared to be within my control. “What’d you use?”

“Vodka, triple sec, Cointreau, and ginger root. Oh, and mint. Quite yummy,” Alan replied, ticking off his ingredient list on long fingers, then licked his lips. “That drink is for Mari.”

“What else?” I ground my teeth together as feeling returned to my extremities. “Don’t fuck me around or I’ll slap you back, kid.”

Alan grinned and raised his hand. A slim ring was wrapped around one finger, plain and dull. When he turned his hand, it revealed a small spike sporting a lethal-looking pinprick point on the back, covered with a tiny glob of resin. “Coastal taipan venom. Small amount. Useless if drunk, very effective when mixed with GHB that can be applied topically. Through the skin. Liquid X on speed during cocktail hour,” he added at my blank look.

“Terrific. Who are we date-raping?” I asked.

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