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“She didnotrender aid,” June repeats, raising one eyebrow, then the other. Her finger points at Charlie, and then she makes finger gun with it. “Bang.”

Charlie raises her eyes to the ceiling, avoiding my steady gaze. Then, she slides her margarita toward June before pushing her finger gun down. Charlie slams back a shot.

I bite back a laugh, then try to press my advantage, see if I can get her to start talking. The sooner this charade is over, the better for all of us. Get in, get out, get my company up and running with this op under our belt.

“Oh yeah? What did Charlie do?” I cut my eyes to where Pierce is now at the bar, getting another drink. He’s digging into the chips and queso he was supposed to be bringing to June.

Asshole.

“I forced her to come with me here instead of going home to cry into her pillow.” Charlie crosses her arms over her chest. “You know, just us girlies doing girly things.”

My lips thin at her tone, her eyes narrowing at me. Why the hell is she doing the talking for June? That’s not helpful.

June rolls her eyes and sticks her tongue out at Charlie. “Shut up.”

Taking another long swig of the margarita, she nearly swallows half before Charlie eases it away from her mouth.

“Hey! That’s rude.” June turns on Charlie, then hiccups, her eyes going wide at the sound.

Coherent. I need her coherent, dammit.

“I think your friend just wants to make sure you’re okay. That’s a lot of alcohol.” I point at the half-drained glass.

“Who are you to judge, hmm?” June wags a finger. Squinting, she adds another, then laughs at her outstretched fingers. “Peace.”

Charlie lifts an eyebrow at me before returning her focus to her own glass.

“June doesn’t handle alcohol well,” she murmurs, and it’s clear it’s for my benefit and not the woman in question.

“Not judging.” I raise my hands in surrender. “Just suggesting.”

What the fuck is wrong with me? I can’t even watch a potential asset get drunk without guilt-tripping myself? No wonder I lost all those bids.

Dammit. I need this op to go perfectly.

Need to get my business off the ground.

I need something to look forward to instead of staying stuck in the past.

The air conditioner hums, the frigid air blasting the dangling fish into a frenetic dance, and I take a breath.

Pierce finally returns, the half-eaten chips and queso somehow balanced perfectly with his fresh beer between his hands.

“Mmmm,” June lets out a throaty little moan of delight, snagging my full attention, my gaze homing in on her mouth. “I haven’t eaten since breakfast. I’m fucking starving. Oh, oops. Sorry,” she giggles.

“Sorry? For what?” She hasn’t eaten since breakfast? No wonder she’s already wasted. That’s no way to live. Maybe she’s more torn up about her dad than we assessed.

“Shouldn’t say fuck. It’s not professional.” She waves a loaded chip in my face, then moans in distress as a blob of queso splatters against the table.

My muscles lock up at the sound. What that moan did to me isn’t professional, either.

“Well, I think you’re safe with us,” Pierce tells her seriously, all charm.

My hands flex, then ball into fists. It sets my teeth on edge, him talking to her like that.

June’s eyes go wide, and her jaw drops, the chip falling from her hand. She grabs Charlie’s arm with one hand, her knuckles white.

Her face goes even paler.