Page 14 of Vicious Betrayal

Within a minute, I get a response.

Rian: Always. Where?

Cormac: The usual place.

There's a dive we both like, with decent cheap beer and only a few regulars, so it's usually fairly quiet and dark. Most nights I'd want to shoot some pool while we're there, but tonight I really just want to sit and have a few drinks.

Even on a Saturday, it's not that busy. I'm already one whiskey in when he comes in and sits down, motioning to the waitress as he shrugs off his leather jacket.

"You started without me." He orders the same as me. "Rude."

"You're late."

"You're drinking like you've developed a problem. What the hell happened? If it was something with the organization, I'd know, too." He studies me for a second, head tilted, and I know that look. Rian's read on people has always been better than most, part of what makes him good at what he does. I brace for whatever's coming. "What's going on with you?"

"Nothing."

"Bullshit." He grins and takes a swig of his whiskey when the waitress brings it over, winking at her. She flushes red. Rian has that effect on women—he's ten years younger than me, and in my opinion a good bit handsomer, too, although I've never had any trouble getting women. "You've got a face on you like somebody ran over your dog. But you don't have a dog. So what happened?"

"Long night."

"Yeah, that club was a madhouse, I heard. You were on the floor half the shift, weren't you? Heard about some idiot with a fake ID trying to start something by the bar⁠—"

"Something like that." I finish the whiskey and motion for another. Rian narrows his eyes at me.

"You're being weird. You're never weird. So either you killed someone last night without telling me, which—fine, it wouldn't be the first time—or something else happened." He pauses, and I see the exact moment it clicks for him. I see his eyebrows go up. "Oh, Christ. You met someone."

My jaw tightens. "I didn't meet anyone."

"You're lying to me right now, and you suck at it, just so you know." He's grinning properly now, delighted with himself. "Cormac Murphy. You met a girl at the club."

I glare at him. "Drop it."

"Absolutely not. You've had that face on since I sat down. What was she, a bartender? One of the cocktail girls Declan hired for opening week?"

I don't answer, and Rian's grin fades slightly until he looks more like the man who shares enforcer duties with me instead of the one who ribs me over drinks. "Cormac."

"It's not what you think."

"I don't know what I think yet; you haven't told me anything."

I turn the glass in my hand and watch the whiskey catch the light. Last night I ran my hands through Oksana's silky hair and told myself it was fine if it was just for one night. But it doesn't feel fine. I feel like shit, and at the same time, I want it to happen again so badly it fucking hurts. I can't stop thinking about her, and I've never been so wrapped up in a woman before. Even good sex is always just that for me, and I don't think about it much again until I start feeling pent-up. Dating isn't something I've ever done. I don't moon over women or linger on thoughts of them.

I let out a sharp breath. "She came up to me at the bar. Wouldn't take no for an answer."

Rian rolls his eyes. "Shocking. Women love you. I don't know why; you've got the personality of a locked door."

"She followed me into the office and wouldn't leave." I can hear how it sounds, like I'm building myself a defense before I've even said what needs defending. "I took her home. We slept together. More than once."

Rian pauses, waiting for the punch line. Then he frowns. "Okay? And? That sounds like a great Friday night to me. I should buy you a drink. I hope I can still get it up more than once at forty."

"Shut the fuck up." I toss back more whiskey.

"Fine, grandpa. What's the problem?"

I wince. "She was twenty."

Rian raises an eyebrow. "You're twice that."