Four Seconds to Lose (Ten Tiny Breaths, #3)(93)

“You do realize your strict rules are going out the window, tonight, right?” Storm says to him with a giggle.

“Yeah.” Cain’s hands slide through his hair, sending it into sexy disarray. “I’ve already shut off all of the cameras. This is a private party, anyway.”

Both Storm and Kacey turn to stare at me in unison. Leaning in to my ear, Storm says out the side of her mouth, “Whatever you’re doing to Cain, keep doing it.”

Ginger is relentless with her concoctions. Cain doesn’t even bat an eye as his premium liquor supply dwindles. Storm confiscates everyone’s keys, just in case any partygoers get confused as to how drunk they truly are.

At some point, four dancers pull Ben back to a V.I.P. room. Or maybe it was only two dancers. I’m not quite sure because Ginger keeps giving me these Pepto-Bismol-pink shooters that she promises are mild. I think she’s lying to me, because getting off my stool is proving to be a real challenge.

Hoots and hollers explode five minutes later as Ben struts out dressed in Mercy’s green bikini and the smile of the Cheshire cat. What Mercy’s wearing—or not wearing right now—is thankfully not evident because she has stayed in the V.I.P. room. The sight is both the funniest thing I’ve ever seen and the most unappealing, given his junk is hanging out the sides of the stretched-out bottoms. As attractive and well built as Ben is, no one can pull this look off.

Kacey hits the ground in laughter, half diving, half crawling for the phone in Trent’s hand to snap pictures of her inebriated friend climbing onto the stage, giving everyone a very unpleasant view of him in a thong.

He clearly doesn’t care, though.

“All right. Show’s over for me. I’m exhausted and Dan’s giving me grief about getting my pregnant butt home,” Storm announces. “You going to be okay with this mess?”

Cain chuckles. “Yeah, don’t worry about it.”

“Okay, good.” Turning to me, she smiles sweetly. “You’re coming to the wedding, right?”

“I . . .” I hadn’t really thought about it and Cain hasn’t mentioned it. I know it’s in a few weeks. I also know it is DEA Dan who’s getting married. While I’d love to go, a part of me can’t shake the feeling that it would be too disrespectful to them. That I could taint their marriage without them even knowing it.

“Of course she’s coming.” Cain’s arm deftly snakes around my waist to pull me in close. “If she can get a night off work, that is. I heard her boss is a jerk.”

“Yeah.” I give him my best coy smile. “He’s probably going to give me a hard time.”

Cain’s hand squeezes my thigh in response.

“On that note . . .” Storm leans in to give me a hug. “Good luck in the morning, Charlie.”

“Well, that sounds like the kiss of death if I’ve ever heard one.”

With a laugh, she stretches onto her tiptoes to drop a peck on Cain’s cheek. “Happy birthday.”

My jaw drops as the shock hits me.

By the wink she gives me, the devious Storm knew that Cain hadn’t enlightened me. Judging by the scowl that flitters across his face after he catches my expression, Cain would have happily kept me in the dark.

“Today? As in, today?” I finally manage to get out.

“As in right now.” Storm blows a kiss as she walks away.

“It’s not a big deal,” he mutters. Peering down at my face in earnest, Cain finally holds his hand out, beckoning. I take it and he leads me back toward the office. The air is so much cooler in here and I welcome it, practically falling into the black leather couch. Cain’s desk lamp clicks on. It provides a nice, dim glow, much nicer than the harsh fluorescent lighting above.

“Here, drink this. It’ll help tomorrow.” Cain produced a cold bottle of water from the mini fridge. He takes a seat beside me as I chug back the entire thing.

“Is it just me or does your office spin after hours?”

With a chuckle, he gently pulls me down until my head is resting on his lap. I can’t help but inhale deeply, his cologne taking my intoxication level to where a boatload of shots could not. Fingers draw through my hair in a soothing manner and I moan responsively.

“Did you have fun tonight?”

“Yeah,” I smile, a lazy giggle escaping me. “I really like everyone here. Especially Ben in a bikini.”

Cain’s hand stops abruptly. I accidently smack myself in the forehead as I lift my hand to hit his, urging him on. “Keep doing that.” I guess my request is coherent enough because his fingers start moving again, only now the index finger of his other hand trails up and down my cheek in an intimate manner. “Why wouldn’t you tell me it’s your birthday? I mean, we’re . . .” I leave the rest of it unsaid. In truth, he doesn’t know my real birthday. Or my real age. Or my real name. I have no right to be angry with him. And I’m not.

I’m hurt.

“It has nothing to do with not wanting to tell you, Charlie. I just don’t care about my birthday.”

“Because you’re getting old?”

He snorts. “No, smart-ass. Because I never grew up celebrating them.”

I frown, reaching up to loop my fingers within his. Never celebrating your own birthday? Even Sam—a ruthless, murdering drug dealer—always made sure each birthday of mine was special. We’d spend the whole day together and I got to pick the activities. It didn’t matter what it was. He’d do it.