Actual Stop (Agent O’Connor #1)(55)

Keith must’ve caught Sean’s words because his head snapped around in my direction. Had he been sober, that might not have been a problem, but his inebriated body wasn’t quite up to speed with his wildly swiveling head, and he nearly fell off the bar stool and onto Allison. It was a good thing Allison saw it coming and reached out to steady him, or he’d have ended up on the floor. A good thing for all of us, really. Keith was a big boy. It would’ve been tough to haul him back up again. I knew. I’d done it many times.

“I’m sorry,” I mouthed to Allison when she glanced at me. She smiled back at me, and I almost melted.

Keith’s face broke into a huge grin as his unfocused eyes finally sent the message to his alcohol-soaked brain that I’d arrived. “Hey, Ryan, you made it. ’S about damn time.” His words were a little slurred.

“Yup. Told you I would.” I turned to Sean to answer his question. “The usual would be great, thanks. And a Tanqueray and tonic, please, with a lime and two maraschino cherries.”

“No, no, no!” Keith shouted, slamming one giant paw down on the bar. Some of the guys snickered and nudged one another, but he was undaunted. He turned his faux wrath to the bartender. “Ryan gets an Irish car bomb. On me.” His tone was insistent.

Sean cut his eyes my way, as though checking to see whether the change was okay. I shrugged. “I’ll drink it. But just the one. And keep the Tanqueray and tonic.”

“Coming right up.”

Now that he’d gotten his way, Keith turned his back on me and busied himself making certain everyone else had a drink. Sean set my Guinness and shot on the bar next to the Tanqueray, which I immediately handed to Allison.

“One Irish car bomb.”

“Isn’t that a little politically incorrect, Sean? I thought we weren’t calling them that anymore.”

It was Sean’s turn to shrug. “I tried to get them to stop, but after a while, the fight just went out of me. You know how hard-headed cops can be.”

I grinned and nodded as I tossed some cash on the bar. “Yeah, we’re all pains in the ass. Thanks, Sean.” I turned so my right side was nestled against the bar and picked up my shot.

Keith stood on the rungs of his bar stool so he towered over everyone and held up his glass. “Way to go, Ryan. The Big Guy went out the same way he came in. You managed not to get him killed. Good job.”

I exchanged a quick glance with Allison, who grinned at me and lifted her glass in a mock salute. I rolled my eyes. The rest of the guys chimed in their own raucous comments, and glasses clinked as they toasted.

I protested. “Hey! Why do you all sound so surprised?”

Allison leaned in to whisper in my ear. “I’m not.”

The sensation of her lips brushing softly against my skin mingled with the heady scent of her perfume made me shudder. My head swam, and a tendril of molten desire snaked its way toward my gut. “You’re not?”

Allison grinned. “Nah. I knew you’d keep him alive. I was taking bets on whether he’d be in one piece though.”

“Ha, ha.” I wrinkled my nose at her and moved to drop my shot into my beer. “Very funny.”

Allison laughed, and the sight of her mirth lifted my spirits.

“Hey, Ryan, wait! Let me get my watch ready.”

I paused and turned to find Rico Corazon grinning at me wickedly. The shouts from the guys nearest to us reached a decibel level that made me wish I had earplugs, and I knew I was in serious trouble. I glanced to Allison for assistance, but she was conveniently engaged in conversation with one of the other guys she knew from before she went to D.C. and pretending not to notice my silent pleas for help. Traitor.

“Wait, wait,” someone else was shouting. “Let me get one, too. I wanna race.”

Several other voices chimed in, echoing the call to Sean to set them up with another round. The rest of the guys started placing bets.

I shot Rico a mock glare. “Thanks, buddy.”

Rico laughed, showcasing his dimples and revealing a dazzling smile. He shrugged his broad shoulders and hooked his thumbs into the pockets of his jeans. With his caramel-colored skin, thick black hair, and deep-brown eyes, Rico was stunning. You know, in that brawny, male kind of way. Like drop-dead, mouth-opened, drooling-on-yourself gorgeous. He also happened to be a really nice guy. If I were into men, he’d have totally been my type. Hell, as it was I sometimes found myself studying him a little too closely and giggling like a schoolgirl whenever he teased me.

“That’s what I’m here for.”

“To be my own personal menace?”

Rico’s grin grew. “Exactly.”

“Great.”

“I put fifty bucks on you,” Rico informed me. “You’d better win.”

“Bite me.”

“Okay, okay,” a new voice shouted. “We’re all ready. Let’s go.”

“Sean, call it,” someone else chimed in.

Sean made a show of raising his hand in the air the way I was sure only people in bad movies about drag racing did. He grinned at us and counted down. “Three…Two…One…” His hand fell, and the race was on.

We all dropped our shots into our beers and started chugging. Somehow, I managed to avoid spilling mine down the front of myself, but it was a struggle. I slammed my glass triumphantly down on the bar and noted I’d finished well before any of the guys. Pleased with myself, I turned to find Rico beaming at me.