Now all of them were looking at me.

Carly’s mouth fell open.

I wasn’t embarrassed. What was the point? The truth of it was, I had more now than I’d had for a good long while. I had some clothes, I had a few books, and I had a roof over my head. More importantly, I had no bars around me.

“Are you serious?” she asked, her voice hardly more than a whisper.

I thought about the list I’d given her, then shrugged. “There’s a couch and a backpack. The table isn’t mine. Came with the apartment.” I rubbed my hand on my chin and felt my stubble scratch at my palm. “Not exactly the sort of thing you’d lie about. So if you’re looking to sue me about what I did to your arm, man...” I slanted a look at the man cradling his broken arm. “I can’t give you shit.”

He ran his tongue across his teeth and then looked away. “I have insurance. Don’t sweat it.”

Now it was my turn to look surprised. “Don’t sweat it?” I echoed.

Sweat beaded on his pale brow and he managed a pained smile. “You heard me. Just tell me one thing…what style of fighting did you study?”

Style? I arched my brows and studied him. Then I grinned. “The school of hard knocks taught me, man. The school of hard knocks.”

For a minute, he looked nonplussed. Then he chuckled. It was a rusty sound, like he didn’t laugh often.

In the next moment, the elevator opened on a whisper and we all spilled out. Everybody else fanned out into the room.

I stood there staring, trying not to let my mouth hang open. I could think of exactly one thing I’d seen that had been this beautiful. And it was the woman who turned to look at me with an amused expression on her face.

“Are you going to join us?”

Chapter 2

“I need a drink.”

While I was still standing there trying to take everything in, Carly made her announcement to the room in general.

“Anybody want to join me?”

I heard a few denials. Nobody said yes. Considering what just happened, I had to give them credit for refusing.

“What about you over there?”

Realizing she was talking to me, I looked away from the elegant white of the room to meet her gaze. “What?” As soon as I asked it, I felt stupid. She’d been talking about drinks, so she was offering me one. I shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. I still had no clue what I was doing here. “You don’t need to do that.”

Carly rolled her eyes at me. “Of course I don’t need to. If I didn’t want to, I wouldn’t have offered it. So do you want one? After what happened the past twenty minutes, you could probably use one.”

I jutted my chin at the suits. “If that’s the case, why aren't they having one?”

She shook her head, an amused smile on her face. “Julio’s boys don’t drink on the job.”

A dark-skinned dude built like a tank smiled faintly as she gestured at him. I assumed the men behind him were his boys and he was Julio.

She gestured to the other men, including the one with the broken arm. “And my boys? They don’t either, even though I keep telling them it’s not a big deal when we’re here. But they won’t ever relax.”

“It’s our job not to relax, Carly.” The guy with the broken arm spoke through gritted teeth.

He was going to need to get that looked at.

She rolled her eyes again and then smiled at me. “Have a drink with me. Makes me look a little less like a lush.”

“Ah, yeah. Sure.” I shrugged. If I was going back to jail, I figured I should probably enjoy the moment. “Whiskey, I guess. If you’ve got it.”

She didn't even blink. “What kind?”

Kind? Running my tongue across my teeth, I thought that through. Okay. Yeah, I knew there were kinds. I was born in Kentucky after all and even if I hadn’t had much chance to experience it, this was the land of milk and bourbon. But my idea of variety, as far as whiskey went, ran the gamut from the kinds that didn’t burn your stomach lining right off and the kinds that did. Rather than confirm my ignorance, I acted like it didn't matter. “Anything is fine.”

She studied me for a moment, and then she smiled. It was a somber kind of smile, one that was curiously sad, and because it made my chest feel sort of tight, I looked away. This was why I tried to avoid people. No one looked at me like they actually saw me, just who they thought I was.

While she busied herself at what I guessed was the bar, I moved over to the window. I found myself staring out at a city I barely recognized. I supposed when you lived in the west end, in some armpit apartment that really ought to be condemned, then maybe you didn't notice the bright and shining lights, or the pretty glow of the bridges at night. My city was vastly different from hers.

“Here.”

I turned at the sound of her voice, and I found myself caught up in the sight of her again, the scent. Really, she was an entire experience. Golden curls, pale, soft skin and sweet, sweet female. The kind of sweet, sweet female I’d never had the pleasure of knowing, and when her fingers brushed mine, it made me twitchy.

It had been way too long since I’d been with a woman, any woman, and she was right here...

“Here,” she said again, smiling as she pushed the glass of whiskey into my hand. “Try this. I bet you’ll like it.”

To cover the flush that seemed to be rushing up my neck, I grunted a response, and turned back to stare out the window. Then I tossed back a swallow, ready for the burn of it.

It didn’t burn.

It glided. Like hot, sweet silk.

“Damn,” I murmured a second later.

“Nice, yeah?”

Instead of responding, I lifted the glass and took another drink, a smaller one this time, taking care to savor it. It was just as good this time as the last and I enjoyed it that much more for taking my time.

“Nice is one word for it.” I lifted the glass and studied it, decided I could maybe make it last ten minutes if I was careful. I'd learned a long time ago that ten minutes could last a lifetime. At least these would be a good ten minutes.

“Angel’s Envy,” she told me.

I frowned and looked over at her.

She tipped her glass at me, tapping it with a nail that was painted pink to match her dress. “The bourbon. Angel’s Envy. Good stuff. It’s one of my favorites. Kentucky makes some excellent bourbon, I must say. It’s almost as good as Pappy Van Winkles.”

She had to be joking with that one. Squinting at her, I said, “Pappy Van Winkles?”

“Yep.” She winked, one quick drop of her lid. “If you’re nice, maybe I’ll share it with you some time.”

With a name like Pappy Van Winkle, it would probably taste like pure rotgut. Then again, she didn't exactly look like the sort of woman who'd throw back that shit. My experience around the opposite sex had been with that sort, and she sure as hell wasn't like those women.

I gave her a tight smile and went back to savoring the bourbon. Angel’s Envy – the name was perfect. It was almost gone, and I wished I hadn’t belted that first drink. If I had more, I’d have a reason to linger, and considering what I had waiting for me when I left, lingering didn't sound like a bad idea.

Around me, I could hear the low murmur of voices, the two men who’d chased after Carly at first, and the others who joined up soon after. I heard what sounded like a report, and then a stream of cussing, a promise of regular updates. I didn't look at any of it, letting myself enjoy the time alone with my drink.

I finished it far sooner than I wanted to and finally turned around. I saw the neat little bar area where she’d poured the glass and went over, intent on washing it up. I may have been rough around the edges, but I had some manners.

“Do you have a job?”

Carly's question stopped me in my tracks.

I went still, my spine going poker straight. Slowly, I turned. Meeting her gaze dead-on, I inclined my head. “Why?” It came out more harshly than I'd intended, but I didn't apologize.