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Involving Taron in our business is a bad idea. Plus, he has enough to deal with, namely guys who can sabotage how he plays the game. However, I can kill many birds with one stone.

Bird one: I’m already his PA and am expected to go where he goes. Why not turn the tables and bring him with me?

Bird two: he and I are stuck doing an assignment together.

Bird three: he doesn’t want me to go after Natalie’s assailant alone.

Bird four: he believes he can get closure by getting to know the new me. Once he understands the real me, he’ll realize we belong in different worlds.

I like order. Taron is not orderly, thriving on chaos. He is into shy. I left shy behind when I got involved with Hunter. Taron prefers sophistication in his women. I am all about edgy. They say opposites attract. I’ll prove whoever came up with that dumb line wrong.

“Fine, I’ll do it.” After I’m done with my short shift here, I’ll go home and rearrange my calendar.

He squeezes my shoulder. “Good. Let’s get the team their round of drinkson the house.”

I shove open the door of the backroom with Midnight close behind me. On the way past the bar, he tips his head at the bartenders, giving them the okay to serve the team their drinks. I make a special request. Benny shoots me a sly grin, mixes the shots, and sets it on my serving tray.

Dressed in my uniform of black slacks and a white buttoned-up shirt, I saunter over to the long banquet table in the middle of the bar. Jackson is sitting across from Taron. They’re shooting daggers at one another with their eyes. Jackson’s intense green eyes to the bottomless pool of ink of Taron’s.

Standing next to Jackson, I place his shot glass in front of him before reaching over the table and putting Taron’s by his clenched hand.

“Taron, here’s a blowjob for you.”

“Thanks, Syn.” He unfurls his fist and gives me a panty-melting, lopsided smile.

Jackson waves at his glass. “What’s mine?”

His is different from Taron’s shot of Amaretto, Irish Cream, and Coffee Liquor.

“Yours is a Duck Fart.” Kahlua, Irish Cream and Crown Royal.

The table goes silent, then a roar of laughter.

“Holy fuck, that’s a hoot. I’ll have me a blowjob, Syn.”

I slide my gaze to the familiar voice. Cooper Wilder. He’s the peanut gallery from practice yesterday. The one who lives next door to Dare. He’s a kicker for the team, as well as my friend Arie’s best friend.

“One BJ coming up. Anyone else?”

The guys shout their orders. No surprise, the majority are a go for the BJ, while the rest want to try a Duck Fart.

I put in their orders and then head over to speak with Cooper.

“Hey, thanks for mentioning Dare to Jackson.” I pull up a seat next to him.

“No probs. I thought for sure he’d lay off as soon as he heard Dare’s name, but that guy doesn’t listen for shit. Likes to poach on what’s not his to go after.”

Not good. Someday Jackson will get the tar kicked out of him.

“How’s Arie?” I ask.

“Don’t know. She and I aren’t talking.”

“What the hell? Did you guys break up or something!”

“Fuck sakes, Syn, keep it down.” He shields the side of his face with his hand.

He and Arie are friends, but the running joke in our group is that they are an unofficial official couple. With as much time as they spend together, they might as well be a couple.