Close Cover (Masters and Mercenaries #16)(44)

But the man she was with, oh, Lisa knew who he was. Matthew Scarsdale, federal prosecutor. He was in his late forties and was every bit as labeled up as his female counterpart. Lisa recognized a designer suit when she saw one. Bridget forced Will into Brooks Brothers and Armani whenever she could. Mitch had his Tom Ford suits fitted to his big body.

Remy Guidry would probably never wear a suit and she was perfectly fine with that. He looked better in a T-shirt and jeans, and the brilliant part was if he didn’t like to dress up, she didn’t have to. It was exhausting and she liked shorts and tank tops way more. That was what she needed. A job that required shorts and sneakers and let her sleep in late.

She forced herself to stay at the bar when what she really wanted to do was walk away. Why the hell was her worst nightmare here? Okay, maybe her worst nightmare was that assassin dude, but anything that reminded her of the ax hanging over her head was bad.

“You, little brunette girl who needs mascara, I want a martini and I want it properly prepared. Do you understand what that means?” the super-aggressive woman asked as she set her briefcase on the bar.

Oh, like she’d never dealt with overly aggressive power women before. “Yep. It means you pretty much want me to put some ice in a cocktail shaker, wave a closed bottle of vermouth over the cocktail shaker, pour out the ice, and fill a martini glass with vodka and we’ll call it a martini. I’m betting no olives, but you do know a twist of lemon is pretty and contains no calories.”

The other woman practically purred as she looked Lisa over. “I take back the mascara part. The natural look is good on you, honey. And yes to everything. And I do mean everything.”

“Mine, Maia,” Remy growled.

Oh, shit. The infamous Maia Brighton. That had to be who she was dealing with. She’d heard the tales of the groping DA. Maia Brighton was on a high-powered career path, had turned sexual harassment into a fine art, and she didn’t discriminate.

A lot of people talked about her time at Sanctum.

“I think that chick is hitting on you,” Linc whispered as she started the martini.

“I think she hits on everyone.” Lisa looked at Matthew. “Is there something I can get for you, Mr. Scarsdale? I take it this isn’t a date.”

Maia laughed. “Oh, honey, Matty here has a major stick up his ass, and not in a kinky way. In a weird Mommy-didn’t-love-me way. He’s married but I’m fairly certain she’s a cover for his illicit love for a blowup doll who might or might not be male.”

“Excuse me?” Scarsdale said, his face going a florid red. The man might have been attractive if he hadn’t had that perpetually pinched look on his face.

Maia waved him off. “Don’t worry, hon. The psych eval is free.” She winked at Lincoln. “And your friend is right. I hit on everyone. Well, everyone I find attractive. This is my favorite restaurant because I swear Sean Taggart doesn’t hire unattractive men.”

“I thought Taggart made it a habit of hiring ex-soldiers,” Scarsdale said, looking around the place with something like distaste. “The crippled kind. Though I suppose that one doesn’t look too bad.”

He was talking about Linc, who smiled a feral expression that held absolutely no humor. “Oh, don’t let the fact that I’m not scarred fool you. I lose my shit from time to time, and when I’m in the bad place in my head, I like to take it out on whoever happens to be nearby. I won’t mean to kill you. I promise I’ll feel bad about it later.”

Maia reached out and put a hand on Linc’s. “Don’t mind him. He’s an asshole and you know you and your team are the absolute sexiest group of men I’ve ever seen. Those scars are manly as fuck. Too bad you’re all getting married. I heard we lost the sommelier to the pretty blonde.”

Okay, Maia wasn’t all bad. She’d managed to put a smile back on Linc’s face.

“It was a lovely wedding,” Linc said.

“Can I steal your pretty partner for a moment?” Maia asked. “I promised Big Tag I would help move things along for this case the feds fucked up. You know how the feds fuck up, don’t you, honey?”

“I do indeed,” Linc replied. “We’re dead tonight anyway. I’ll be in the back doing inventory. Lisa, call me if anyone shows up.”

He strode off and Maia turned on Scarsdale. “The next time you’re rude to one of these men, I’ll let them have you.”

“You’re one to talk about rude,” Scarsdale shot back.

“I know when to be rude and when to show some damn respect,” she replied. “The men and women who work here gave more than you can imagine so you and I can live our posh lives. Even that one right there who is ready to take me apart because I hit on his precious.” She turned to Remy. “Open your mind a little, Guidry. Three-ways can be fun.”

“My mind is perfectly happy with the kink I already got. One woman is all this poor country boy can handle.” But he was smiling, too. “And I thank you for setting this up. He won’t return my calls.”

Maia took the drink from Lisa. “Someone like this, you have to walk in, grab ’em by the balls, and lead the way.” She took a sip and sighed. “Yes, that’s a martini. Do you have any idea how hard it is to get a martini this good?”

It wasn’t. It was just vodka with a twist, but hey, whatever got her through a day.