Desperate Girls (Wolfe Security #1)(20)

“Forget it,” she said. “I don’t want to waste time with all that. I’ll use the treadmill.”

“You sure?”

“Yes, let’s go.”

She stuffed her earbuds in her ears, and Erik had the nerve to look smug as he followed her out.

As workouts went, it was ugly. Four miles, and she was soaking wet by the end. Usually, she only ran two, but with Erik there, she felt like she had something to prove.

Which didn’t make sense, really. He was her bodyguard. And he’d told her to pretend he wasn’t there. But that wasn’t happening, especially when it was beyond obvious that he and his team were in peak physical condition. Brynn had a competitive streak, and knowing Erik could probably run four miles uphill without breaking a sweat made her push harder.

Finally, she hopped off the machine. They rode the elevator back down, and she kept her distance, even though Erik seemed unbothered by her sweat-drenched state. Back inside the apartment, a new agent was seated at the breakfast bar in front of a computer. Hayes Becker. Brynn had read his background, too. At twenty-six years old, he was the youngest member of the team, and he looked it, too, with his blond hair and dimples.

Brynn retreated to her room to clean up and then stood in front of her closet, debating. Otto’s was casual, so she settled on jeans and a stretchy black top that accentuated her boobs. She put on some makeup and did a quick blowout, deciding to leave her hair down. Then she sent a text to Ross: Ready in 5?

It didn’t take him long to respond: Staying in tonight. Not up for Ottos.

Brynn stared down at the phone. U ok? she asked.

Working.

She grabbed her purse off the bed and returned to the living room, where she found Erik and Hayes gathered around a laptop, discussing something. Brynn recognized surveillance footage of the lobby downstairs.

“Ready?” she asked Erik.

“Yeah.”

“Hayes, can we bring you anything?”

“He’s driving,” Erik informed her.

Hayes grabbed the keys to the Tahoe and followed them into the hallway. Brynn made a beeline for Ross’s apartment. Unlike everyone else, it seemed, she didn’t have a key, so she had to knock.

Skyler answered the door. Her long dark hair was pulled up in a ponytail, and she wore black jeans and a Wolfe Sec T-shirt.

“Hi,” she said, glancing over Brynn’s shoulder at Erik. “What’s up?”

“I need a word with Ross,” Brynn said.

He came to the door, and Skyler returned to the living room, which was identical to Brynn’s across the hall.

“Hey, sorry to bail,” Ross said.

“What the heck? Are you sick?”

He shrugged. “Just tired. I thought I’d stay in and go over a few things. Anyway, I’m not hungry.”

“You cannot get sick, Ross. We need you tomorrow. Want me to get you some Alka-Seltzer or something?”

“You’re the one who gets the pretrial heaves, not me.”

Brynn glanced toward Skyler and lowered her voice. “You’d better not be staying home to hit on her.”

“Get real.”

“I mean it. She works for us, and it would be completely unethical.”

“Don’t worry about me.” He looked over her shoulder at Erik waiting patiently in the hallway, listening to every word. “You guys have fun.” He patted her shoulder. “Keep the tradition alive.”

Otto’s Tap Room wasn’t what Erik had expected for Dallas or Brynn. Located on the outskirts of downtown just beyond the railroad tracks, it looked like a run-down warehouse. Only a blue neon sign and a row of pickups out front hinted that the place was open for business.

Hayes pulled up to the entrance, and Erik got out to open Brynn’s door.

“I’ll text you when we’re done,” he told Hayes.

“Roger that.”

“Wait, aren’t you coming in with us?” Brynn asked.

“I’ll keep an eye on things outside.”

“Are you sure? Best burgers in town.”

“I’m sure.”

Brynn slid out and stood on the sidewalk, looking uneasy as the Tahoe pulled away. “Has he had dinner?” she asked Erik.

“He probably ate before his shift.”

Erik crossed the sidewalk and opened the door, letting out a gust of cool air and loud music. The place smelled like barbecue. People were crowded around the bar, watching the Rangers game, and Brynn led him to a high-top table in back.

“This one’s better,” he said, touching her waist to steer her to a corner table.

“Don’t like your back to the door?” she asked as she took a seat.

“That’s right.”

“What was I thinking?”

Over bluesy guitar music, Erik could hear the sharp crack of a pool game in the back room. It was Erik’s kind of place, and under different circumstances, he would have liked to come here with Jeremy to put away a few beers and win some money at nine-ball. Right now, he was working, though, which meant focusing on Brynn and all the heads she’d turned since walking in here.

A young waiter came over. “Get you folks something to drink?”

“I’ll have a Guinness,” Brynn said.

“And you, sir?”