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“Maybe I’d be willing to change that lifestyle for the right woman.” His eyes twinkled and she knew he was teasing her. It lightened the mood enough for the tension between her shoulder blades to ease some and she was grateful.
“And this would be me?” She batted her lashes at him as he grinned. “I assume this lifestyle of yours has something to do with the questionable company you keep?”
He smiled, the twist of his lips a bit wistful. “Yes.”
“Have you considered keeping other company?”
“You don’t leave your family.”
“I didn’t know you were related.” He’d mentioned Dylan’s father, but no connection to him. Actually, he hadn’t told her anything at all about how they’d come to know each other, so maybe it was a possibility.
“Not by blood, but some things are thicker than that.” He paused like he was searching for the right words to answer her question without revealing too much. She’d done the same when he asked why she hadn’t dated so she kept her silence and waited for him to finish.
“Dylan was there for me when no one else was,” he said finally. “I owe him.”
“It seems strong friendships are something we have in common.”
“Hopefully not the only thing.” He winked at her and made her laugh again.
They finished out their meal with lighter conversation, but she wondered about it as he drove her home. Was that the only thing they had in common? They lived very different lives, knew very different people. They didn’t share a love of the same music or read the same books. He was laid-back and charming while she was tightly wound and often unapproachable.
There was nothing to indicate they would get along at all except for a mutual adoration of his dog and one evening of ill-advised kissing. Maybe she had been right in the restaurant. Maybe it was a good thing it hadn’t been a real date.
But when he walked her to her door and then left without kissing her, she was rocked by the strength of her disappointment. Maybe he had also been right. Maybe she just hadn’t found quite the right person to distract her from her ambitions or motivate her to finally deal with the pressure of her mother’s expectations.
She wasn’t sure how she felt about that, but she knew the way she reacted to him was different than anything she’d ever experienced before. It was odd to go to bed wishing she wasn’t alone, and her fantasies involved a great deal more than just having him in bed beside her.
They hadn’t made any specific plans to see each other again after their dinner, which had been another small disappointment. Eloise had to admit, if only to herself, that if she won that bet with Sarah, it would be more to do with not seeing him than the strength of her own self-control.
Nine
Tough Break Bar and Grill was a real shithole. Dylan knew it, the patrons that stumbled in the door every night knew it, and Ethan knew it. He suspected the cops knew it, too, but they’d stopped actively poking around years ago. Dylan didn’t use it as a not-so-secret base for a large criminal operation anymore, so they busted patrons on the way out for DUI and possession and whatever else and left Dylan alone.
Ethan was well aware that Dylan preferred for the bar to remain as worthless and rundown as possible while still keeping the doors open. As far as Dylan was concerned, his dad’s mistake—apart from being an abusive asshole who couldn’t keep his kids out of foster care—had been having too many loose lips running around the place. He wouldn’t have gotten shot over some deal gone sideways if he hadn’t put his trust in so many people that didn’t deserve it.
Dylan’s dad had surrounded himself with a whole gang of accomplices and had his fingers in many criminal activities. Dylan, smarter and meaner than his old man had ever been, relied almost entirely on Myles and Ethan. Sure, some jobs required a carefully chosen skeleton crew that would bring in a few more faces, but Dylan didn’t brag about his business dealings all over town. He broke the law often, but he broke it well. No sloppy mistakes. No rushed decisions.
Ethan looked around at the peeling paint, the stained carpet, the air hazy with smoke from cigarettes and whatever they were burning in the kitchen. There was a single bartender behind the bar, nose buried in her phone as she ignored the handful of people nursing drinks and leaning dangerously on their barstools. Dark hair curled riotously around a heart shaped face and her lips were painted a vivid red. There were no uniform requirements at Tough Break and she took advantage of that to pour her body into a tight, white shirt. It was sheer enough so the patrons could easily see the red bra beneath and hugged every curve. She’d cut the front so it dipped dangerously low over her breasts to reveal the angel wing tattoos that spanned most of her upper chest. Her tip jar was always full and it certainly wasn’t from her bartending skills.
Sunny was a pleasure to look at—pretty enough that he’d made the mistake of indulging in a brief but intense physical relationship with her—but she was barely competent at the job she’d been working at for over a year. If Dylan had cared at all about the actual success of his business, she would have been fired months ago and Ethan wouldn’t still be dodging her killer glare every single time he had to make an appearance.
As it was, Tough Break’s general vibe was one of unkempt neglect—of a place that barely scraped by on cheap beer, overpoured drinks, and Sunny’s tits—and it was a ruse. Dylan let them all see him as a careless and incompetent man because it suited him for people to believe that. People weren’t suspicious of you when they thought you didn’t have two decent brain cells to rub together. If Ethan had stood up in the middle of a Friday night rush and announced a list of their crimes, they would have hesitated to believe him no matter how much they feared Dylan’s temper.
Dylan? The mastermind behind a lifetime career of illegal activities? They would have laughed in his face. Cruel? Yes. Selfish? Undoubtedly. Smart and disciplined enough for criminal success? He couldn’t even keep his father’s interests—legal and otherwise—properly afloat. Absolutely not. He had the willingness, they all knew that, but he had them convinced he lacked the ability. It was one of his more brilliant cons, as far as Ethan was concerned.
“How’s your dating life, Ethan?”
He had just managed to settle at a back table with a cold beer and already Dylan had found him. He’d slid into the chair across the table, his own beer in hand, and was watching Ethan with that flat viper’s gaze, a dead giveaway that he was thinking about a job. The question seemed personal at first, but Ethan knew better. If Dylan’s mind was bent on work, there were no emotions involved. Just business and profit.
“It’s coming along,” he said. “I took her out to dinner last night but?—”
“You came through,” Dylan finished. His face relaxed, taking on a less severe expression that wasn’t quite a smile. “I knew you would. What did you find out?”
“Nothing yet.”
“Nothing?” Dylan hesitated and glanced across the bar, but everyone was involved in their own conversations, and no one was close enough to overhear them. “Are you not trying hard enough or do we have to go about this the hard way?”
“There’s no need for that.” Ethan saw the way Dylan’s lips thinned but he didn’t backtrack. “She may not know anything useful anyway.”
