Sweet Evil (The Sweet Trilogy #1)(102)

“Crikey,” I heard Marna mumble as he set the brownish drink in front of us. I hadn’t been paying attention. I expected another shot, because it was in a small tumbler glass, but this appeared to be straight liquor.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Four Horsemen.” Trevor explained: “Jack, Jim, Johnny, and Jose.”

Crikey about covered it.

“Oh, hell, no,” said the girl next to Marna.

“What are you trying to do?” the other girl asked Trevor. “Kill us?”

The other bartender leaned in and interjected, “He’s trying to get you to dance on the bar.”

“This might do the trick,” I said, picking up the shot glass and raising it. “Come on, girls. To New Year’s and new friends.”

The girl next to Marna eyed her shot glass with major trepidation before picking it up. Marna lifted hers and crinkled her nose. The four of us tinked our glasses together and shot them back. I almost gagged. It was no joke. I did my father proud, setting it down without a cough or a cringe, earning high fives from all the strangers standing around us, and lastly from Trevor, who was all grins. He pushed a small, square napkin at me that said, Room 109, underlined twice. I folded it up and tucked it into my purse, grabbing five hundred-dollar bills while I was in there. I’d come prepared.

I handed over the money to Trevor, feeling saucy. “No change.”

As the Four Horsemen hit my bloodstream, I had to wonder whether I’d just consumed more than three official drinks. Come to think of it, he’d definitely filled the glasses higher than my dad did. I felt myself listing sideways up against the boy next to me.

“Whoa, there, girl,” he said, helping me right myself. I giggled.

“This is more like it,” the demon purred.

“Show’s not over yet,” I told it. I wanted to be sure its report back to whoever left no doubt I was working.

“Time to dance,” I said to Marna. I patted the bar and she nodded, on board with the idea. She leaned down to pull off her heels, and I did the same. Then we climbed up on the stool and onto the bar, helped by the hands of strangers. The place went wild. Trevor and the other bartender rushed around removing empty glasses and bottles and drying the bar top.

“You’d better get up here, too!” I told the two other girls.

Marna and I grabbed their hands and helped pull them up, laughing at our own unsteadiness. We urged other girls to join the fun, pulling people up left and right. Soon there were eight of us dancing with our hands in the air, moving our hips to the beat of the music. With the strength of the alcohol in my system, it was a wonder I stayed upright on the bar.

I looked down at Trevor, who stood right behind me, half smiling up at us, enjoying the view. He’d helped me more than he knew tonight. A rush of affection overcame me, and I squatted down, putting my hands on his face and placing a light kiss on his lips. I started to pull away, but he hauled me to him and kissed me for real, invading my senses. When the kiss ended, he grinned and took my hands to help me stand back up and dance again. My legs were not cooperating one hundred percent. It must have shown, because Marna wrapped her hand around my hip.

By the end of the song, a hotel manager was signaling for us to climb down, and berating the bartenders, who put up their hands like they had no control over the crazy girls who’d taken over the bar top. As we rushed to get down, a short, thin guy held out his arms to me. I leaned down, holding his shoulders, and squealed as his hands grasped my hips and I fell into his arms. He was stronger than he looked. For a moment the room spun.

“Dance with me?” he said against my ear, and I managed to nod.

Walking proved to be difficult, as my brain seemed to have stopped sending messages to my legs that they should move forward in an orderly fashion. Luckily the guy was happy to help hold me up. He had the high-and-tight haircut and clean-shaven face of a military man.

When we got to the dance floor he lifted my arms around his neck and supported me around my waist. He held a mixed drink in one hand. It was a slow song, so I let my head flop onto his shoulder.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Anna,” I mumbled.

“I’m Ned. You thirsty? Captain and Coke?”

I lifted my heavy head to examine what he offered. I leaned down and took a long drink from the straw. When I looked back up at him, everything was fuzzy, and I got that warm feeling of affection again, thinking about this brave soldier willing to put his life on the line. I pulled him down and gave him a sloppy kiss, though he didn’t seem to mind. He chuckled, wrapping an arm around my waist.

“Girl, you’re even more wasted than I thought. You’d better take it easy.”

“Nah, I’m gooood.” I reached for the drink in his hand, but he lifted it way up high, and I jumped for it, wobbling. His free hand still held me around the waist. His laughter was playful, but I was serious about wanting to down the rest of his drink. The fact that he wouldn’t hand it over was ticking me off, and he seemed to think it was terribly cute.

I heard a familiar sound while we haggled over the drink. A whistle. It was the same intonation my dad used during training, but it wasn’t his pitch. I peered around the room in what felt like slow motion.

There went the whistle again!

My slow eyes found Kope standing against the wall, sleeves still rolled up to his elbows. When he knew I saw him, he held up a glass of water.