Tempted & Taken (Men of Haven #4)(107)
At least this place was in a decent part of town. Across the street, men and women milled outside a new bar styled like an old-fashioned pub called The Den, with patrons dressed in everything from T-shirts and faded jeans, to leather riding gear and motorcycle boots. Not one of them looked like they were calling the party quits anytime soon.
Viv tucked her purse beneath the seat, stashed her key fob in her pocket, and strode into the humid January night. Her knockoff Jimmy Choos clicked against the aged blacktop, and cool fog misted her cheeks.
Off to one side, an appreciative whistle sounded between low, masculine voices.
She kept her head down, hustled through the dark double doors and into a cramped, black-walled foyer. A crazy-big bouncer with mocha skin and dreads leaned against the doorjamb between her and the main bar, his attention centered on a stunning brunette in a soft pink wifebeater, jeans and stilettos.
The doors behind her clanged shut.
Pushing to full height, the bouncer warily scanned Viv head to toe. Hard to blame the guy. Outside of health inspectors and liquor licensing agents, they probably didn’t get many suits in here, and she’d bet none of them showed in silk shirts.
“ID,” he said.
“I’m not here to stay. I just need to find someone.”
He smirked and crossed his arms. “Can’t break the rules, momma. No ID, no party.”
“I don’t want a party, I want to pick up my sister and then I’m out. She said she’d be up front. About my height, light brown, curly hair and three sheets to the wind?”
“You must mean Callie,” the brunette said. “She was up here about an hour ago mumbling something about sissy, so I’m guessing you’re her.” She leaned into Scary Bouncer Dude’s formidable chest, grinned up at him, and stroked his biceps with an almost absentminded reverence. “May as well let her in. If you don’t, Trev will spend closing time hearing his waitresses bitch about cleaning up puke.”
Too bad Viv didn’t have someone to bitch to about getting puke detail. Callie sure as heck never listened.
Bouncer dude stared Viv down and slid his mammoth hand far enough south he palmed the brunette’s ass. He jerked his head toward the room beyond the opening. “Make it quick. You might be old enough, but the cops have been in three times tonight chomping to bust our balls on any write-up they can find.”
Finally, something in her night that didn’t require extra time and trouble. Though if she’d been smart, she’d have grabbed her ID before she came in.
“Smart move, chief.” The woman tagged him with a fast but none-too-innocent kiss, winked and motioned for Viv to follow. “Come on. I’ll show you where she is.”
An even better break. The last search and rescue had taken over thirty minutes in a techno dance bar. She’d finally found Callie passed out under a set of stairs not far from the main speakers, but the ringing in Viv’s ears had lasted for days. At least this time she’d have a tour guide and an extra pair of hands.
The place was as eclectic on the inside as it was out. Rock and movie collectibles hung on exposed brick walls and made the place look like it’d been around for years even though it reeked of new. Every table was packed. Waitresses navigated overflowing trays between the bustling crowd, and Five Finger Death Punch vibrated loud enough to make conversation a challenge.
The brunette smiled and semi-yelled over one shoulder, never breaking her hip-slinging stride. “Nice turnout for an opening week, yeah?”
Well, that explained the new smell. “I don’t do crowds.” At least not this kind. Signing her dad’s Do Not Resuscitate after a barroom brawl had pretty much cured her of smoky, dark and wild. “It looks like a great place, though.”
The woman paused where the bar opened to a whole different area and scanned Viv’s outfit. “From the looks of things, you could use a crowd to loosen up.” She shrugged and motioned toward the rear of the room. “Corner booth. Last I saw your girl she was propped up between two airheads almost as hammered as she was. And don’t mind Ivan. The cops are only hounding the owner, not the customers. My name’s Lily if you need anything.” And then she was gone, sauntering off to a pack of women whooping it up at the opposite end of the club.
So much for an extra set of hands. At least this part of the bar was less crowded, scattered sitting areas with every kind of mismatched chair and sofa you could think of making it a whole lot easier to case the place.
She wove her way across the stained black concrete floors toward the randomly decorated booths along the back. Overhead, high-end mini sparkle lights cast the room in a muted, sexy glow. Great for ambience, but horrid for picking drunk sisters out of a crowd. Still, Viv loved the look. She’d try the same thing in her own place if it wouldn’t ruin the tasteful uptown vibe in her new town house. Funky might be fun, but it wouldn’t help with resale.
Laughter and a choking cloud of smoke mushroomed out from the corner booth.
The instant Viv reached the table, the chatter died. Three guys, two girls and the stench of Acapulco Red—but no sister. “You guys see Callie?”
A lanky man with messy curly blond hair eyed her beneath thirty-pound eyelids and grinned, not even bothering to hide the still smoldering joint. “’Sup.”
The redhead cozied next to him smacked him on the shoulder and glowered. “She’s after Callie, Mac. Not stopping in for a late-night chat.” She reached across the table and handed Viv an unpaid bar tab. “She headed to the bathroom about ten minutes ago, but be sure you take this with you. She stuck me with the bill last night.”