Page 28 of Wicked Lies

“We just gotta keep it together a little longer.”

Samson cleared his throat, a clear sign he was going to say something Nick wouldn’t like. “When I checked in with Tina to see how Cheryl did last night, she said some asshole doused her with beer.”

“Yeah, so?” Nick turned his attention to his phone.

“So, I assume she went up to the apartment to change, and it would’ve been right around the time you were up there. Maybe she was helping you wrap up your arm, or maybe she was wrapping her lips around your dick.”

“I had no idea she was gonna be there.” Nick dismissed the comment. “Just a coincidence.“

“I thought you always say there are no coincidences.” Samson held Nick’s gaze for an extra second, but fuck him, he wasn’t getting into what almost happened between him and Cheryl because he wasn’t sure himself.

Samson shook his head. “Something about her doesn’t add up.”

“Tina said she picked up the POS pretty quick. Also said she can hold her own with the customers.”

“That I believe.” Samson cocked his head. “With all the bullshit on the dock the other night, I forgot to tell you I saw Frank talking to her before we opened.”

“About what?”

“I don’t know, but it looked pretty intense.” Samson poured another shot of bourbon.

“Could’ve been nothing more than Frank checking out the new bartender.”

“Maybe—or maybe he knows her and put her here to keep eyes on us.”

Nick’s thoughts exactly, but again, he kept it to himself.

“Don’t you think she’s wound a little tight? Jumpy? like she’s expecting the worst?”

Nick pulled a face. “I assume being with Jimmy will do that to a person.”

“And that’s another thing—what would a put-together, seemingly smart girl be doing with that deadbeat?”

“If it means anything, she told me she broke up with him.”

“When she tell you that? Last night, when you didn’t see her in the apartment?” Samson razzed.

“Fuck you.”

“Just don’t start thinking with your dick.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Nick sensed it too. Cheryl definitely had a backstory.

Nick slid off the barstool. “I gotta get over to the Marquis.” He didn’t look forward to this gig, but shaking hands and showing his face was the least he could do for freedom.

* * *

It hadn’t takenCheryl long to get back into the rhythmic routine of making drinks. And mixing cocktails at the Oasis exceeded a dump like the Pit. After Tina showed her the POS system and where all the basics were kept, it all fell together. Concentrating on the customer’s wants and needs at the busy bar kept her mind free of all the static in her brain and made the time pass incredibly fast.

After all the recent drama in her life, Cheryl welcomed some mindless work. It was one of the main reasons she loved bartending, plus it was a quick way to make cash. In two weeks, she could put her getaway plan back on the front burner. She wouldn’t have as much as before, but it would be enough to get out of New York.

She’d artfully avoided Nick when he made his rounds earlier, keeping her attention on the blender mixing up a batch of margaritas. His leading questions about Jimmy and their almost encounter in the apartment last night made it hard to ignore his brutal magnetism. His movements were smooth and catlike, almost graceful, and coupled with his custom-tailored tux made him worthy of a magazine cover.

He wasn’t on the floor long, and Cheryl wondered where he was headed in formal attire. Normally, she went for the roughed-up, tough guys, but somehow Nick managed to combine designer clothes with a gritty street look. He oozed scalding passion, yet she had no doubt he could pull the trigger, then fuck her brains out two seconds later. She could still feel the heat of his body flush against her and how his full lips ignited her insides and made her heart beat faster. If it wasn’t for that damn text, they would’ve made her fantasy come true.

Cheryl placed a perfectly poured Cosmo on the little cocktail napkin and cashed out the customer. When she turned to replace the vodka and cranberry juice, Frank caught her eye at the service end of the bar. She returned the card to the customer, and Frank crooked his finger in her direction. He held her in his sights right up until she stopped in front of him, happy for the service bar between them.

“You look very professional.” Frank smiled around his words, but his eyes remained razor sharp.

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