Page 22 of Devious Kingpin
“I have a headache,” she complained. “Or jet lag.”
“God, it’s barely nine p.m.”
She sighed. “I’m sorry, Jules. I’m just not feeling it tonight.”
And she left me too. My eyes skimmed over the room, looking for my brother. I spotted him. Maybe I could catch up with Killian. I walked toward him. He stood with another man, the two of them discussing something serious by the looks of it.
“Hey, brother,” I greeted him, my eyes flicking curiously to the hot daddy. Silver-gray beard. Dark eyes. Hot dad body. Jesus, it should be forbidden to be so attractive at that age.
“Ah, Jules, this is a friend of mine. Kian Cortes.” I stiffened. “He's a friend of the Ashfords too.”
Was that my Kian? The guy that tracked down the fuckers I was killing? No, it couldn’t be, that would be far too serendipitous. Yet, that name wasn’t exactly one you heard every day. And he’s a friend of the Ashfords. The Kian I worked with protected Autumn, Branka’s friend, as a favor to the Ashfords.
I swallowed, deciding to clear out of here as soon as possible.
“More like an acquaintance,” Kian added. His gaze came to me and he smiled. My heart skipped a beat at hearing his rich, deep voice. And his smile was beautiful, although it didn’t exactly reach his eyes. There was something dark in them. “Nice to meet you, Jules.”
I squirmed like a fish on the hook.
“Likewise,” I said, suddenly feeling parched. “I’m gonna head to the bar,” I said with a forced smile. Kian and I had been communicating for over a year now—I used initials to be safe—but I didn’t want to risk this man connecting the dots. The intelligence behind his demeanor was easy to spot. “Come join me, brother, when you’re free.”
I left without waiting for their response and headed for the bar. Once there, I took a seat.
“Fireball,” I ordered. “Make it two. Or three.” I barely had time to blink and three shot glasses were placed in front of me. I downed the first shot and was just about to sip the second when a hot sensation trailed down my spine.
I turned my head and my gaze collided with Dante’s. My heart slowed, each beat racing as heat licked beneath my skin. It had to be the Fireball.
Dante stared into my eyes. Something about the way he watched me had my insides quivering with so many damn feelings that it terrified me. Except now, I had a few shots swimming through my veins, feeding this infatuation I had for this man.
He sat on the barstool next to me. “Is this seat taken?”
“It is now,” I joked, my mood kind of mellow now that I had an infusion of liquor in my system. Any other time, I’d have a snarky comment and an even sharper attitude. To my surprise, tonight it was nowhere to be found. “Where is the birthday girl?” I asked curiously, my gaze traveling over his shoulder. Emory should be around here somewhere. After all, all this was in her honor. But I only saw Priest standing there, his arms folded over his chest.
“She went somewhere with Killian,” Dante answered.
My eyebrows shot up. “My brother, Killian?” I questioned in surprise.
“One and only.”
“I guess nobody is in a party mood tonight,” I remarked. “Wynter and her annoying husbandretiredfor the night.” I used air quotes for added theatrics. We all knew what they were doing. Pregnancy wasn’t putting a stop to their bedroom activities. A shudder rolled through me at that image. Just gross. “Ivy has a migraine. Davina is probably fussing over her baby and my father.” That image was even worse.
“They all left you, huh?” Dante mused. “It’s a good thing I’m here to keep an eye on you.”
I rolled my eyes. “Somehow I think you’ll land me in more trouble. Priest is here to keep an eye on both of us,” I remarked, tilting my chin in his direction.
Dante chuckled but didn’t say anything else. My fingers curled around my glass and I stared at my drink, the amberish liquid of the Fireball made some girls go crazy. Not me. My alcohol tolerance was pretty high, either thanks to our college years or my Irish heritage.
I glanced around again, marveling that I was sitting here with Dante and not my girlfriends. Things had been different since Davina and Wynter married their men. Or maybe it was the fact that I had this secret thing going on. Hunting down anyone connected to my birth parents.
“Why is my brother with Emory?” I asked again, not willing to go down my double-life path.
Dante shrugged. “No fucking idea, but it’s odd as fuck.”
“Right!” I agreed. “I didn’t even know they knew each other well enough to go somewhere together. In fact, I thought they couldn’t stand each other.”
Dante let out an amused breath. “Well, considering he came with your father to collect Wynter in Emory’s home, I’d say they’ve crossed paths in not-so-friendly circumstances a few times.”
“Hmmm.” It still seemed odd to me.
