Tempted & Taken (Men of Haven #4)(108)

Seventy-eight bucks. A light night for New Year’s Eve, which was a damn good thing considering Viv’s bank balance. She tucked the tab in her pocket. “Which way to the bathroom?”

The girl pointed toward a dark corridor. “Down that hall and on your left.”

Viv strode that direction, not bothering with any follow-up niceties. Odds were good they wouldn’t remember her in the morning, let alone five minutes from now.

Inside the hallway, the steady drone of music and laughter plunged to background noise. Two scowling women pranced past her headed back into the bar. One glanced over her shoulder and shook her head at Viv. “May as well head to the one up front. Someone’s in that one and isn’t coming out anytime soon from the sound of things.”

Well, shit. This was going to be fun. She wiggled the knob. “Callie?”

God, she hoped it was her sister in there. Knowing her luck, she was interrupting a New Year’s booty call. Although, if that were the case, they were doing it wrong because it was way too quiet. She tried the knob again and knocked on the door. “Callie, it’s Viv. Open up.”

Still no answer.

Oh, to hell with it. She banged on the door and gave it the good old pissed-off-sister yell. “Callie, for the love of God, open the damned door! I want to go home.”

A not so promising groan sounded from inside a second before the door marked Office at her right swung wide. A tall Adonis in jeans and a club T-shirt emblazoned with The Den’s edgy logo blocked the doorway, his sky blue eyes alert in a way that shouldn’t be possible past 1:00 a.m.

Two men filled the space behind him, one shirtless with arms braced on the top of a desk, and another leaning close, studying the shirtless guy’s shoulder. No wait, he wasn’t studying it, he was stitching it, which explained the seriously bloody shirt on the floor.

“Got more bathrooms up front. No need to break down the damned door.” Adonis Man ambled toward her, zigzagging his attention between her and the bathroom. “There a problem?”

Dear God in heaven, now that the Adonis had moved out of the way, the shirtless guy was on full, mouthwatering display, and he was every book boyfriend and indecent fantasy rolled up into one. A wrestler’s body, not too big and not too lean, but one hundred percent solid. A huge tattoo covered his back, a gnarled and aged tree with a compass worked into the gothic design. And his ass. Oh hell, that ass was worth every torturous hour in front of her tonight. The only thing better than seeing it in seriously faded Levi’s would be seeing it naked.

“Hey,” Adonis said. “You gonna ogle my brother all night, or tell me why you’re banging down one of my doors?”

They were brothers? No way. Adonis was all...well, Adonis. The other guy was tall, dark and dirty.

Fantasy Man peered over his injured shoulder. Shrewd, almost angry eyes lasered on her, just as dark as his near-black hair. A chunk of the inky locks had escaped his ponytail and fell over his forehead. His closely cropped beard gave him a sinister and deadly edge that probably kept most people at a distance, but his lips could lull half the women in Texas through hell if it meant they’d get a taste.

Viv shook her head and coughed while her mind clambered its way up from Smuttville. “Um...” Her heart thrummed to the point she thought her head would float off her shoulders, and her tongue was so dry it wouldn’t work right. “I think my sister’s passed out in there. I just want to get her home.”

Adonis knocked on the door and gave the knob a much firmer twist than Viv had. “Zeke, toss me the keys off the desk.”

Before either of the men could move, the lock on the door popped and the door creaked open a few inches. “Vivie?” Callie’s mascara-streaked face flashed a second before the door slipped shut again.

Months of training kicked in and Viv lurched forward, easing open the door and slipping inside. “I’ve got it now. Give me a minute to get her cleaned up and gather her stuff.”

Adonis blocked the door with his foot. The black, fancy cowboy boots probably cost more than a month’s mortgage payment, which seemed a shame considering it didn’t look like she’d be able to pay her next one. “You sure you don’t need help?”

“Nope.” She snatched a few towels out of the dispenser and wetted them, keeping one eye on Callie where she semi-dozed against the wall. “We’ve done this before. I just need a few minutes and a clear path.”

“All right. My name’s Trevor if you need me. You know where we are if you change your mind.” He eased his foot away, grinned and shook his head.

“Oh!” Viv caught the door before it could close all the way and pulled the bar tab out of her pocket. “My sister ran up a tab. Could you hold this at the bar for me and let me pay it after I get her out to the car? I need to grab my purse first.”

He backtracked, eyeballed Callie behind her, and crumpled the receipt. “I’d say you’ve already covered tonight.” He turned for the office. “We’ll call it even.”

Fantasy Man was still locked in place and glaring over one shoulder, the power behind his gaze as potent as the crackle and hum after a nearby lightning strike.

She ducked back into the bathroom and locked the door, her heart jackrabbiting right back up where it had been the first time he’d looked at her. She seriously needed to get a grip on her taste in men. Suits and education were a much safer choice. Manners and meaningful conversation. Not bloody T-shirts, smoky bars and panty-melting grins.