Page 13 of Diamonds in the Mud

“Do I know you?” she asked as she slightly tilted her head. “What’s your name?”

I smiled. The smile I knew that women liked. The kind that said, no, but if you wanted to know me…

Less than a heartbeat later, she turned away and continued to march towards the bar. I caught up with her right as she ordered a ginger ale.

Then, for some reason, my brain finally caught up with the rest of me. Shit. She’s a cop. I should have sniffed it out first thing. If I hadn’t been so damned horny and impressed by her pinning that asshole Declan to the wall, I would have spotted it right away.

Hell. Even just talking to her, I could blow everything.

I glanced around the dark bar. Luckily, every single one of the Reapers had followed Felix and Declan outside in retreat.

Deciding to cut my losses, I turned to join them, only to have her grip my arm. Firmly.

“I didn’t say you could go,” she said smoothly, her voice laced with the natural rhythm of the South. She turned her right shoulder slightly as her eyes ran over me again. “I asked you a question, Yank.”

Shit. Double shit. Okay, she was a damned good cop. She’d seen through my fake accent if she knew I was from somewhere up north.

“You do know the North won that war?” I joked and leaned against the bar as I laid on the accent heavy.

Her eyes narrowed. “Thankfully.”

“Don’t let too many people in these parts hear you say that,” I joked.

“You were about to tell me your name?” she motioned with her chin.

I slowly smiled again, stalling, since I oddly enjoyed the look of annoyance in her eyes. “You have to pay the piper first,” I said as I wiggled my eyebrows. “A name for a name,” I said when she continued to look at me in question.

I held firm. The woman had a look about her. Damn. Where in the hell had she been hiding?

“You’re with them.” She motioned with her head slightly behind her towards the back door where all of the Reapers had disappeared.

“I am,” I said and, for the first time in years, I wished I could drop all pretenses. Damn.

The bartender set the glass of ginger ale down, and the sexy cop picked it up and took a sip. “Do you know Faye Baker?”

I glanced back to where she’d just pinned Declan up against the wall.

“Does this have to do with you going all Rambo on Declan?” I asked, trying to be charming.

Her eyes narrowed, then she leaned closer to me.

God, she smelled like leather and sin. It was too dark and smoky in the bar to see the proper color of her eyes but I just bet they were like bourbon when the sunlight hit them. Her face was something I could spend hours exploring. Even with the all-business look that she was currently giving me, she was sexy as hell.

“I see right through you, you know,” she whispered, then she set her drink down on the bar and walked away.

Damn.

I froze.

What in the hell did that mean?

Did that mean she knew who I was? What I was doing there? No. No fucking way.

Before I knew what I was doing, I stormed after her. When I caught up with her, she was asking a waitress about Faye.

I knew most of the waitresses in the place. After all, it was one of the only places in town that the gang hung out at. Faye Baker was a petite waitress with jet-black hair who stood her ground and had a backbone. She had earned the respect of most of the gang, which meant she made big tips when we were in the bar.

She was also a close friend of Evelyn’s.