Текст книги "Nauti Temptress"

Автор книги: Lora Leigh

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Текущая страница: 4 (всего у книги 17 страниц)

His jaw flexed; the fact that he was grinding his teeth was more than obvious.

“Are you waiting for an apology?” she asked as she cocked her hip and faced him curiously. “Because if you are, you’re going to be waiting awhile, Dawg.”

“I don’t want a damned apology,” he bit out. “I want you to find someone else to mesmerize you; that’s what I want.”

Her brow lifted. “He’s no traitor.”

“You don’t know that, Eve.”

“I can feel it, Dawg,” she argued fiercely, her desperation to prove he wasn’t tightening inside her. “You told me once that you’ve lived by your instincts most of your life; well, I have, too. I’ve had no other choice, any more than you did. And my instincts tell me he’s no traitor.”

“Those aren’t your instincts, Eve. They’re your hormones. And trust me, your hormones will lie to you and have a hell of a time doing it. And when your hormones have betrayed you, you’ll find yourself sleeping with a traitor, under investigation for collusion, and your mother and sisters suspects as well.” His shoulders flexed, shifting beneath the well-pressed shirt he wore. “Listen to me, Eve; I wouldn’t lie to you, honey. And God knows it would kill me to watch you have to go through that.”

Eve could only shake her head as her chest tightened with fear, regret, and an aching need she couldn’t deny.

“Eve, he will be caught,” he warned her again as he moved to her, reaching out to grip her shoulders gently, staring down at her, understanding and anger filling his gaze. “I’ve never asked anything of you. I’ve done all I could to protect you, your mother, and your sisters. But I’m begging you now: Don’t let him destroy you. Don’t let him do what I can see him getting ready to do to you.”

This was truly the only thing he had ever asked of her, Eve realized as she felt her heart cracking with the pain of the choice he was giving her.

How could she ignore him? He’d never ignored her, her mother, or her sisters. He’d taken care of them. He’d seen that they were fed, educated, and their futures provided for, and all he asked was that she stay away from one man.

A man she was so hungry for it was eating her alive.

She nodded slowly. “I’ll try, Dawg.”

He pulled her to him, hugging her fiercely as she returned the embrace weakly.

“That’s all I ask, Eve,” he said, kissing the top of her head gently. “That’s all I ask.”

THREE

Brogan glared at Timothy Cranston as he watched the monitor. The television and game room had a small warning plaque just inside the door. Notice: This room could be monitored by both video and audio surveillance. A small smile played at the agent’s lips, but his brown eyes were narrowed, his expression thoughtful as he watched Dawg Mackay hug his sister fondly.

Of course it was fondly. The son of a bitch had just played the brother card and forced her to promise to stay away from the big, bad Brogan.

Bastard!

Hell, the ironic part was that he actually liked Dawg.

The Mackay cousins weren’t known for their polite society ways, or their ability to soothe ruffled feathers. They were known for quite the opposite, actually.

When they’d first met, Dawg had laughingly told Brogan that he reminded him far too much of his cousins and asked whether he was a Mackay, despite the red hair. Six months later, Dawg had flat-out asked him whether the underground rumors he was hearing that Brogan was involved in the military thefts were true.

Brogan’s boss had an agenda, unfortunately. Part of that agenda was pulling the Mackays in without officially asking them for help. Brogan had just stared back at him for long seconds before telling Dawg he was going to have to answer that question himself.

He’d evidently done just that. Since that day, Dawg had been as cold as Lake Cumberland in winter.

“You told me Dawg and his cousins would keep their noses out of my business,” he reminded Timothy as he leaned forward in his chair, frowning at the stark pain that filled Eve’s expression.

She’d tried to convince her brother that her instincts about Brogan were right. That, like him, she’d had to learn how to depend on them, how to trust them, just to survive. And still, the brother who was known as not just protective and sheltering, but also respectful and tolerant, had demanded she stay away from the man it was clear his sister was unable to stay away from.

“He is keeping out of your business,” Timothy murmured. “It’s your sex life he’s screwing with.”

Brogan could feel his jaw aching from the clenched tightness of it. It was all he could do to restrain the urge to stomp downstairs and push his way into that room to confront the other man. To ensure that nothing and no one could pull Eve’s attention from him.

His fists clenched, his short, clipped nails biting into his palm as he forced himself to remain sitting.

The last thing he wanted, needed, was for anyone to guess that he and Timothy were more than friendly enemies. Timothy had taken the same public stance on Brogan as Dawg had: a cool reception and a refusal to warm. It was required. Cranston was known as a former Homeland Security agent. Even the Mackays were unaware he was still an Agent in Charge for the Department of Homeland Security.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t in charge of this operation. He was only overseeing it. If he had been in charge, maybe, just maybe he could have convinced Timothy to keep Eve out of the operation they were conducting in Pulaski County.

Because the Agent in Charge of this operation had deemed Eve necessary. Even before Brogan had looked into those mesmerizing emerald eyes and knew he wouldn’t rest until he’d taken her to his bed, his boss had decided that Eve Mackay’s participation was required.

“I have things to do.” Straightening from the chair he’d taken in Timothy’s small upstairs office, he turned and glared at the agent as Timothy sat back comfortably in his chair. Mercedes had designated the area as Timothy’s and no one but no one, she’d declared, entered without his permission. Even her.

“Go on.” Timothy waved him away. “You’ll be here for dinner?”

“No, I won’t be,” he growled.

“Ahh, you’ll be at the bar.” Timothy nodded with a smile. “Eve’s not a puppy you can convince to heel with treats, Brogan. I’d remember that if I were you.”

“Damned good thing I don’t see her as one, isn’t it?” he said with a grunt.

Striding to the door, he opened it enough to ensure no one was in the hall before slipping from the room and taking the back stairs to the kitchen.

Mercedes Mackay left the kitchen open through the day, and plates of sandwiches and snacks in the stainless-steel refrigerator that sat next to the back door. If anyone caught him there, he’d have a reason for it.

He’d used a lot of bed-and-breakfasts over the years, and he had to admit, hers was one of the most unique.

Fortunately there was no one in the kitchen, and no one entered as he strode across it and slipped out the back door.

This was a fucking mess.

He’d come to Pulaski County to find thieves; instead he’d ended up playing the traitor and stealing top-secret files that were never meant to be seen by anyone other than those who were carrying the files.

The files were stolen from four high-level couriers traveling through Fort Knox, Somerset, Harlan County, and Pikeville. Others were stolen from the homes of the high-ranking military officers they’d been delivered to. Each file had contained information unrelated to the files stolen before them.

Brogan had seen the reports of the files they had contained, and he could see nothing to tie them together.

Striding from the porch along the walk to the parking lot, he moved to the Harley and mounted it smoothly. Unlocking the helmet from between the handlebars and sliding it over his head, he activated the Bluetooth headset, then, with a quick flick of his wrist, turned the key and let the powerful motor throb for long seconds before pulling from the parking lot and turning onto the main road.

“Dial Doogan,” he said into the headset, activating the hands-free feature built into it.

“Doogan,” his boss answered before the first ring finished, his voice a dark, slow drawl that did nothing to indicate the man’s impatience.

“Dawg’s interfering,” he told the other man. “He just pulled the brother card on his sister and made her promise to stay away from the big, bad Brogan,” he said with a grunt.

Doogan laughed at the reference. “Do you think she’ll listen?”

“Mackays are known to keep their word, and she promised. What do you think?”

Pulling into the light flow of traffic along the main drag, Brogan headed away from Somerset and the temptation to follow Eve to her bed. He wanted nothing more than to make damned certain she didn’t obey her brother.

“Fuck,” Doogan growled. “Think you can convince her to break her word?”

That was Doogan, always going for the jugular.

Bastard.

“Why should I?” Brogan bit out. “Come on, Doogan; she’s one woman with no military connections at all. How can she possibly be of any importance to this operation?”

“Because I said she was.” The other man’s voice lowered, his tone becoming darker, harder.

“Doogan. I’m the wrong man to keep in the dark,” Brogan warned him. “I’m the one man who could jack this operation all to hell just by letting folks know exactly who I am. Don’t force me to take that route.”

“You’d do that because of one woman?” There was a fine edge of surprise in his boss’s voice.

“I’d do that if you risked her, and I’m starting to wonder if that isn’t your intention.”

There were times he wished he knew the Agent in Charge better. Doogan was a man who had refused to climb the ladder of DHS success. He remained in his position of Agent in Charge far longer than he should have. He could have risen, taken a directorship or even a position as team commander.

“That’s not my intention, Brogan,” the other man finally assured him. “I’ll tell you this much: Eve Mackay is pivotal to this mission. There’s one person in Pulaski County who I suspect knows a hell of a lot more than we, or our thieves, want them to know. My contact has spent the better part of eight years watching everything that goes on in that county. He’s one of our spotters, and a damned good one at that. But even he doesn’t know who this person is. All he’s heard where these thefts are concerned is that they are tied together, and that there’s one person who could answer a hell of a lot of questions if they would. The only thing, though, that’s going to bring them out of the woodwork is if one of those Mackay girls needs them. And they’d trust only whoever they trust. And despite appearances, there’re very few people any Mackay trusts. If they see she’s in your bed, and in your life, then you could possibly be considered in a position of trust and the situation deemed important enough to come out of the woodwork and reveal his secrets.”

“Because if he knows as much as you think he does, then he’ll know who I am and what I am.” Brogan grimaced.

He didn’t like the thought of that at all. The very thought of it had a chill of warning lifting the hairs at the back of his neck. “There should be another way to ensure that this person makes contact,” Brogan snapped. “Bringing her into my life might not be the best way to do that, Doogan.”

“It’s the only way, Brogan,” Doogan stated, his tone chilling at the indication that Brogan was second-guessing his orders.

“And how do you know it’s the only fucking way?” he bit out furiously. “You’re asking me to endanger an innocent woman’s life.”

“Or save it,” Doogan countered. “And don’t deny you’re interested, Brogan. There’s more than one report that’s come in mentioning the suspected thief and Dawg Mackay’s sister.”

Oh, he’d just bet there was. He could practically feel the rumor mill heating up every time they were in the same place at the same time.

“It might not be as easy as you thought it would be,” he informed the other man. “She’s made a promise now. She won’t break it.”

“The only way this will work is if it appears Eve is aligned with you, Agent Campbell,” Doogan drawled lazily. “So align with Eve Mackay and stop trying to convince me I’m wrong. When you’re the one reading the reports and listening to the director tear a strip off your ass because of military secrets falling into the wrong hands, then you can countermand orders. Until then, if it wouldn’t bother you too much, try sticking with the plan we agreed on before you went out there.”

Brogan could feel frustration and livid anger brewing inside him.

Without another word he broke the link before giving the cycle a surge of gas as he headed into the mountains.

He might not be the one reading the reports or getting his ass torn over the thefts, but he was the one taking the risks and fighting his own lust for a woman he was seriously afraid could end up owning his soul.

His father had once told him that a man knew when he’d met his mate. That if he waited, kept his dick under control, and didn’t fuck up, then he’d find that mate.

He was thirty-four. A little old to be finding his mate, he thought.

Not that he believed in the whole mate-finding business. He didn’t. But if it actually existed, then there was no doubt he’d found his in Eve Mackay.

The hunger he felt for her was like a white-hot flame burning his senses and his common sense to cinders. He’d waited two and a half years. Waited and watched, flirted with subtle demand, and teased until he finally managed to snag her interest.

Not that it hadn’t been there before; it had been. But there were things that had to be done first, plans that had to be placed into motion.

Everything was in place now.

Brogan and his partner, his brother, Brody, now held the better part of the files that had been marked to be stolen. The inside source who had first contacted DHS gave them the information on each file targeted, and Brogan made damned sure he got to them before the real thieves could.

If the thieves wanted to acquire the missing files, then they were going to have to come to him.

According to Doogan, there was only one piece to the puzzle left to acquire: Eve’s loyalty and the perception that she was Brogan’s lover.

What would make a source contact him if he knew Eve trusted him enough to be his lover? What the fuck was going on in this damned place, and just how screwed up were the criminals operating here?

Pulling the cycle to a wide clearing at the side of the road, he turned around and headed back to town. Like Eve, he’d had no sleep the night before, and if he was going to seduce his wild little Mackay, then he was going to need all his wits about him.

Because seducing her wasn’t going to be nearly as hard, he feared, as keeping the independent, unfettered state of his heart intact.

He had a feeling Eve was invading it, and that could only spell trouble for both of them.

Besides, his long-term agreement with Mercedes Mackay included two days per week that he pitched in on the upkeep of the inn and grounds. And it was time to cut the grass.

FOUR

Eve could feel a headache coming on.

Right there in her left temple. It was that heaviness that assured her the discomfort had no intention of going away.

And she should have expected it from the lack of sleep, the upsetting meeting with her brother, and the knowledge that no matter how badly she wanted him, Brogan was out of her reach.

To make matters worse, some of the less desirable members of the small Cumberland Touring and Motorcycle Club had taken a table right beside the step that led from the main floor to the bar area. Two of those members were determined that night to push her headache from irritating to migraine status: Donny Sutherby and his lover, Sandi Mikels.

Donny, nicknamed “Bowie” by the club, was barrel-chested with a bearlike body, thick armed and heavy thighed. His straight, conservatively cut dark brown hair was thinning on top, while his pale blue eyes always looked suspicious and mocking.

Dressed in baggy jeans and a dark T-shirt that did nothing to hide his too-thick thighs and biceps, he swaggered when he walked, and even when he was sober one would swear he was drunk.

Sandi, a part-time stripper in Boston, followed him each summer, taking her place on the back of his motorcycle for the summer road “tours” the group took.

How a part-time stripper could afford to take the summer off, Eve hadn’t figured out.

Her overblown figure was poured into snug jeans and the typical summer camisole that was at least one size too small as it stretched across the boob job she was so proud of. Personally, if she were Sandi and she was going to get a boob job, Eve thought, she would have gone with one that more suited her diminutive frame rather than a set of double Ds that made her look as though she were going to topple over forward at any second.

Donny and Sandi were sitting with Poppa Bear. Grady “Poppa Bear” Aarons and his wife, Mary, nicknamed “Momma Bear,” were one of the older couples. Poppa Bear had been a commanding officer in the army, discharged at retirement, and as jovial as they came.

He had a Santa Claus look about him, though his beard was shorter, his eyes dark brown, his laughter booming. Momma Bear was only a few years younger, slim and still a handsome woman for being in her late fifties.

Scattered around the large table with them was Poppa and Momma Bear’s daughter, Baby Bear, a.k.a. Shanna. Also “Hondo” Grael—Eve had no idea of his real name—“Pooh” Yonkers and his sister, “Marbles,” and another brother and sister, Boo and Homer Kennedy.

The table wasn’t overly loud, but Bowie and Sandi were ensuring that each time Eve passed their table, some snide remark was directed toward her.

Returning to the bar, she tried to avoid the table, but it was the most direct path to collect the drink orders she had, and she would be damned if she would let the couple know they were bothering her.

“Hey, Evie, is Brogan avoiding you tonight?” Sandi laughed as Eve passed. “He’s been here for a while now, ya know?”

Yeah, she knew.

Every tall, hard inch of him was there, dressed in jeans, a wide leather belt cinched at his lean hips, a white shirt tucked into the denim, several buttons undone and tempting her fingers to play with those red-gold curls across his chest. A pair of scuffed leather motorcycle boots completed the picture of hard-core sex appeal and danger.

“Come on, Boogie, be nice,” Poppa Bear chastised her, using the nickname he had given her. “Scots might be on the other side of the bar, but he don’t take his eyes off her.” He laughed boisterously.

Edging up to the bar, Eve sneaked a look in Brogan’s direction and saw that Poppa Bear wasn’t lying. Brogan might be talking to John Walker, but he was staring straight at her.

Loading the circular tray with ordered drinks and lifting it until she could balance it with one hand, with the other she gripped the handle of the pitcher and made her way back to the bachelorette party she was serving.

“Scots likes all the girls, though,” Sandi remarked as Eve passed. “He’s not a one-woman man, Poppa Bear.”

Eve didn’t hear Poppa Bear’s answer as she made her way to the bachelorette party.

The eight women had arrived two hours before, and at the rate they were drinking, Eve had a feeling she was going to be calling cabs for the eight. She had yet to see their designated driver, and if she wasn’t mistaken, the bride wasn’t going to make it until the witching hour, as she had sworn she would.

“Hey, here’re our drinks,” the bride called out, the bridal nerves reflecting in her eyes belying the goofy smile on her face.

Setting the beer on the table, Eve put their drinks out in front of them, then turned and headed back to the bar for another order.

The bar, newly named Walker’s Run, was hopping. The band was incredible, the singers capable of crooning or belting out the latest country hits. With both a male and female singer, the band was able to give the crowd the songs they wanted, the way they wanted them.

Drinks were flowing, the dance floor was full, and the managers, John Walker and his wife, Sierra, were out and about ensuring everything was running smoothly.

It always amused Eve that the owner of the bar, Rogue, had more or less given the bar to her brother and sister-in-law, John and Sierra, while Rogue managed the upscale restaurant, Mackay’s Fine Dining, for Eve’s cousin Janey Mackay Jansen.

The restaurant was just as popular as the bar, though, and no doubt a line was starting to form at the doors there, just as it would be here soon.

Moving back to the bar, she almost changed direction and skirted the dance floor.

John Walker had disappeared, and Brogan had moved to Poppa Bear’s table. He was standing between Donny and Poppa Bear. Sandi was sitting on Donny’s lap, her hand stroking down Brogan’s arm where it lay on the table, a sly smile curling her lips as she spoke to him.

The sight of the blond-haired witch touching him had Eve’s fingers curling tighter around the tray she was carrying and her teeth clenching in anger.

Oh, she did not like that. Donny and Sandi weren’t exactly faithful to each other. They each took other lovers often, and it appeared Sandi had every intention of getting Brogan into her bed.

Serving drinks and gathering payments and tips kept her moving quickly. John had more waitresses coming in the next few weeks, but preferred not to train them on the weekends. That left Eve to fill in for the two girls who had left at the beginning of the summer.

She wished she could get out of it now. Each trip she made past the table, the other woman was touching him, and he wasn’t exactly making her stop.

As Eve approached the table again she avoided Brogan’s gaze. From the corner of her eye she watched Sandi stand and excuse herself.

Eve was almost past the group when she was suddenly thrown off balance and pushed hard into the wood railing that separated the bar area from the tables.

Reacting quickly, she grabbed the railing, righting herself before swinging to face Sandi.

“Oh, my God, aren’t I just so sorry.” Sandi breathed out, her eyes widening in innocence.

“Not a problem,” Eve gritted in irritation, picking up the tray and stepping up to the bar.

“That witch is out for trouble,” the bartender, Dakota Wayne—or Kota, as everyone called him—warned her as he took the orders she’d brought back. “Watch yourself.”

“No kidding,” she muttered.

“Hey, while I’m putting your drinks together, could you run to the back and pull me some Jack and Johnnie Walker?” Kota called out.

“Got it, Kota.” Shoving her tips into the front pocket of her jeans, she moved quickly to the end of the bar, lifted the hinged top, and entered the “Employees Only” section.

“Keys.” Kota tossed her a key ring before turning back to the drinks he and the other bartender were quickly putting together.

Pushing through the swinging doors, she strode down the short hall before turning and heading for the liquor room.

As she entered the dimly lit, cool confines of the storage room and moved to the back shelves where the whiskey was, she was aware of voices in the office next door.

She lifted the large bottles of liquor and placed them in one arm, and was turning around as the sound of a familiar voice had her pausing.

“I don’t like it,” John protested from outside the storage room. “There are too many variables that could go wrong.”

“And if they go wrong, then we’re going to watch good friends suffer,” an unfamiliar voice argued. “We don’t want that.”

She didn’t want to hear this.

Deliberately bumping into a heavy shelf and causing it to smack against the wall, Eve cursed loud enough that she was sure to be heard.

The conversation abruptly stopped, and within seconds John was standing at the door of the storage room and staring into the dimly lit confines.

“Eve?” Narrowing his gaze on her, he watched her, not suspiciously, but curiously. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, it’s just been a long evening.” She moved more fully into the light, knowing he would be able to detect the signs of the headache she was fighting. There were few men, or even women, perceptive enough to pay attention to facial expressions or changes in them; however, there were too many men in her life who did just that: her boss, her brother, her cousins. The men who had saved her and her sisters five years before, and their very small circle of friends, almost seemed to have a second sense for it.

“Need to take off?” he asked, compassion lighting his pale blue eyes as he watched her intently.

“Who’s going to cover me?” She smiled back at him, appreciating the offer. “You’ll have Sierra out there serving drinks if you lose any more waitresses tonight.”

He grimaced at the thought. “She’ll start a riot.”

“She does every time,” Eve agreed with a little nod as she moved to the door and he backed up.

Closing the door behind her, she let him have the keys when he reached for them, and waited while he locked the door before handing them back to her.

“Tell Kota that if he needs liquor to call back and I’ll bring it out to him,” he offered quietly. “That way you don’t have to lug those bottles.” He nodded to the two in her arms.

“Got it, boss,” she promised, smiling back at him before heading back up the corridor quietly and moving back into the bar area.

Wow, whatever those two were talking about, he didn’t want to risk anyone hearing it again.

She doubted it was anything illegal. She knew John Walker and his wife too well, just as she knew her brother and cousins too well, to ever believe they would work on the wrong side of the law.

John and his friend were up to something, though, and that was scary. Because whatever John got into, then her brother and cousins were sure to follow. It was just the way it was when it came to Mackays and their family or friends. And John, his sister Rogue, and the Mackays, were definitely friends. And then—and she knew this well from the stories she had heard—then Timothy Cranston would get involved. . . .

Damn, she didn’t even want to consider the consequences there.

As she dropped the bottles off with Kota, he was placing the last of the drinks she had ordered on the tray.

Handing over the keys, she gave him John’s message and started to turn away.

“Everything okay, Evie?” he asked her as she paused. “You’re looking tired.”

“Headache coming on.” She sighed. “And I don’t think John liked me being in the back rooms, Kota, so I’d feel better if I didn’t have to do any more runs.”

“What makes you think that?” He tilted his head to the side curiously.

Eve gave a little shrug. “It was just a feeling.”

“Hell, the waitresses always go back there.” Kota frowned.

She gave a negligent shrug. “I just know what he said, Kota, and I don’t want to step on any toes, ya know?”

“Got it, sweet pea.” He gave a quick smile and nod, his expression clearing. “I’ll make sure you stay on the floor.”

Yippee.

Breathing out wearily at the thought, she grabbed the tray of drinks the other bartender, Matteo, pushed to her, and moved back into the throng. Though this time she carefully skirted the table where Brogan and Sandi sat.

She would have loved to know what the hell was going on with John– No, she didn’t want to know, she told herself quickly. She knew his type far too well. He was too much like Brogan, her brother Dawg, and her cousins Natches and Rowdy.

Brogan, John, Kota, and Matteo were cut from the same cloth, and to poke into their business was to invite trouble.

No, it was to beg for trouble.

She’d had enough trouble in her life before coming to Somerset to dare invite more. And she had no doubt in her mind that John was up to something. The group of men her brother was close to was always up to something.

She wasn’t so certain about Brogan yet, though she had hoped to find out. That aura of danger that surrounded him assured her that not knowing was probably for the best, though. This was as dangerous as she wanted her life to get, she assured herself as she evaded male hands attempting to pat her rear, cup a breast, or convince her to dance.

Her head was beginning to throb like gremlins were attempting to dig out her brains. And the gremlins were beginning to grow.

Glancing back to the table Brogan sat at, Eve saw Sandi running her fingers through his hair as she leaned toward his ear and said something. Eve’s temples began to pound even more. Anger was rushing through her, crashing through her system and making her headache worse as she delivered the drinks to the proper table.

“Hey, Eve, that party in the corner is talking about rolling, and I don’t see a designated.” One of the bouncers stopped her as she delivered drinks to another table. “Should I call a cab?”

“Let me check,” she suggested. “Someone came in earlier whom I haven’t seen drinking yet.”

Moving to the women laughing and gathering their things together, Eve stepped to the table and caught the attention of the newcomer who had arrived late.

Tall, dressed in a pair of knee-length baggy shorts and a T-shirt, the other woman sat back in her chair watching the group with a smile. Her hair was pulled back in a low ponytail, the long excess pulled through the back of the ball cap she wore.

“Hey, Samantha,” Eve greeted the detective who had just been hired to work with the Somerset police force. “You designated tonight?”

An amused smile crossed the other woman’s strong features as she adjusted the low-profile cap she wore.

“I have them. A friend is waiting outside with another car so we could get them all.” Samantha laughed. “Though I’m wondering if I shouldn’t just arrest the lot of them.”

The women groaned, then laughed as though the detective had just told some incredible joke.

“I’ll leave them to you, then.” Eve nodded.

“Hey, Evie.” One of the partygoers waved at her enthusiastically. “Where’s your sister?”

Eve laughed back. “Which one?”

“The one Samantha was asking Mellie about,” she replied suggestively, her drunken demeanor more insulting than curious. “Samantha is—”

“Fed up with the drunkards.” Samantha rose to her feet, adjusted her cap, and glared back at the others. “Let’s go if you’re going, or your asses can sit here.”