Page 34 of Play Dirty (Brooklyn Dawn 1)

My molars clicked together. Memories threatened to drag me under. I still couldn’t listen to that Aerosmith song, for fuck’s sake. “I don’t.”

He flipped his shaggy, wet hair out of his face. “Liar.”

The soft rumble of the word felt like it had more than one meaning. I didn’t like it. I didn’t like him.

Liar.

I shook my braid over my shoulder. “We have to work together.”

“We don’t have to do anything. Run along. It’s what you do, right?”

I had run. I hated that he was right about that one thing. But I wasn’t that young girl anymore. It had only been three years, but in the business we were in, it might as well have been ten.

Hell, twenty. I’d seen way too much and fought too hard to let an impetuous mistake control me.

Even if you liked it.

Still craved it.

It was still a mistake.

I took a deep breath. “I don’t run out on my friends.”

“Is that what you call him?” His accent was sharper than normal. Languid with Ireland and yet cutting at the same time.

“Look, don’t make this any harder. We’re professionals.”

“One of us is.”

I launched my water bottle at him. He caught it with a laugh.

“Don’t tease me, duchess. I like when you’re wild, remember?” He walked more fully into the room in dark socks. Somehow it made it worse that he was so effortlessly comfortable here.

This was one of my safe havens. Not his.

Even without the boots, he was taller than me. He lowered his gaze as he walked by me. “We work in an hour. I’ll give you some time to primp.”

The urge to hurl my suitcase at him was almost too much to bear.

Screw it.

I stalked past him and swung my bag at him. He caught it against his chest with a grunt.

“Take that upstairs for me? Thanks.” I patted his shoulder and headed for the kitchen. Logan was in the doorway, his eyebrow winged up. I gave him a bright smile. “I’m going to go take a shower.”

Logan coughed around a laugh. “You do that.”

I brushed by him and into the kitchen and headed for the back stairs. Evidently, I’d need to get more than airport funk off me.

Maybe I’d need that wine after all. It might be the only way I could keep from killing Nash.

Or something far worse.

Nine

I dropped her bag. It clattered to the floor and Fiona came running.

Logan gave me a bland look as I stalked into the kitchen. “Really?”

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