Page 13 of Taken Off Camera
“Am not.” I press my cold glass to my cheek.
“You’ve got a crush on this guy.”
“I do not.” The protest comes too quickly.
Saint leans back, arms crossing over his chest. “You realize how dangerous that is, right? Emotionalattachment to a patron? Especially one who hides his identity?”
The criticism stings, even though I’ve had the same thoughts during my more rational moments. “He’s not dangerous.”
“You can’t know that.”
“I can feel it.” I regret the words as soon as they leave my mouth.
Saint’s expression shifts from concern to alarm. “Are you serious, Micah? That’s your defense?”
My shoulders hunch. “Forget it. He’s a client who pays well and doesn’t ask for nudes. End of story.”
Saint holds my gaze for a long moment before speaking with deliberate calm. “I’ll track him down and cut off his hands if he hurts you.”
The declaration is so matter-of-fact that I can’t help but laugh, though he’s not joking. “Get in line. I’d hack his bank accounts and ruin his credit score first.”
The tension breaks, and Saint’s mouth curves in a rare smile. “That’s my boy.”
“We should head out.” I check the time on my phone. “Got a show at nine.”
Saint finishes his drink and slides from the booth, waiting as I gather my backpack. As I stand, a wave ofunexpected warmth rolls through me. I tug at the collar of my hoodie.
Saint tracks the movement. “You okay?”
“Fine. Hot in here.”
Before I can duck away, he reaches out to rest the back of his hand on my forehead, and his eyes widen with concern. “You’re burning up.”
“It’s nothing.” I step back, but the movement brings on a wave of dizziness, my vision blurring for a moment. “The whiskey just hit harder than usual.”
Saint’s nostrils flare, trying to scent me. “Your Heat’s not due for what, two more weeks?”
“Three and a half,” I correct him. “This is what comes from mid-day drinking.”
“You always were a lightweight. I’m driving you home.” Saint declares, leaving no room for argument. “And no show tonight.”
“I can’t cancel. I need the money for next month’s rent.” I inhale deeply, trying to center myself. “The alcohol will wear off before I go live.”
Saint’s expression indicates he wants to argue, but his knowledge of my financial situation stops him from pushing. “Fine. But I’m staying at your place tonight.”
“No, you’re not.” The last thing I want is for Saint to be eavesdropping while I talk to GentlemanX. Igrab my backpack. “You have hunting to do, remember?”
Saint curses under his breath.
“Unless you want to wait for your arm to finish healing?” I push.
“No, dealing with this underwear asshole is more important.” Saint studies me with worry. “But if it gets worse, you’ll call me, and I’ll take you to the clinic.”
“Yes, sir.” I bump my shoulder against his. “Will you buy me an orange juice on the way?”
“Not sure sugar is what you need right now,” he grumbles, but he’ll hit a drive-thru, regardless.
I let Saint take my bag from me and hustle me into his car, which sits at the curb right in front of the entrance to the bar.
