Page 9 of Finding Denver

“Hell of a woman.”

My gaze slides to the man at the end of the bar. The one who had been flirting with Denver earlier. I hadn’t taken much notice of him before, but now that I do, a strange sense of familiarity settles over me.

“Yes, she is,” I say, picking up my drink. “You’d do well to remember her surname before flirting with her again.”

He chuckles, and I wonder if he’s cocky or just doesn’t know who I am.

“A woman like that seems pretty capable of deciding for herself who she goes home with,” he says. “Far be it from me to deny her if she decides it’s me.”

Now I laugh. Denver might be flying high, but she’d never be unfaithful.

“I would love for you to try,” I say, sipping my whiskey and returning my attention to Denver. She’s talking to the state’s attorney, who nods so enthusiastically his head might drop off at any point.

“Did she kill her husband?”

My slow turn to the man should have him recoiling, but he simply waits for my answer.

“Are you a journalist?” I ask.

“Nope.”

“Cop?”

He grimaces. “I’m offended by that.”

I place my drink down and face him fully. “No, she did not kill her husband.” I rest my elbow on the bar, tilting my head and waiting a beat before adding, “I did.”

A grin spreads across his face. “Bullshit.”

“You think I’d lie?”

“Yes,” he says. “I think Denver killed him, but you take the flack to protect her. I’m not judging. Some of the most powerful men in the world are under the thumb of their wives.”

A current of irritation sparks across my knuckles, and the urge to beat this man to death is almost suffocating. Had it not been for the general wear and tear of theevening, I’d be able to hide it, but I’m deep in my resentment enough that it’s written all over my fucking face.

“Ooh,” he says, grinning. “Did I strike a nerve?”

I’m about to stride toward this man, smash my glass into his face and use the shards to cut him up, when Denver calls my name. Heat consumes me, anger and rage and everything dark swelling to dangerous levels in my heart and mind.

The man lifts his drink and tilts it in the direction of Denver. “You’re being summoned, Mr. Luxe. I wouldn’t keep her waiting. Kill me another time.” He winks and resumes drinking, and if it weren’t for the presence of so many people, police chief included, I’d sate my rage by soaking my shirt in this man’s blood.

Chapter 3

Colt

“Did you have to piss him off?” Alistair asks through my earpiece as I watch Ranger walk away, his drink unfinished, his anger my entertainment for the evening.

“No, but it was fun.” I tip my glass against my lips, washing down the taste of chocolate with the four-hundred-dollar drink Denver paid for. I’m glad I brought two bags of M&Ms; I didn’t think I’d be sharing with Deluxe. “He’s threatened by her.”

Alistair hums in agreement. “Reckon we can use that?”

Potentially. Driving a wedge between the Luxes would be a good way to get them alone, making it easier to kill them.

If that’s what I decide to do.

I came here tonight to help me make a decision. I was hoping to meet Denver and find her so unlikeable that killing her became an easy option, but our brief interaction wasn’t unpleasant. She was actually pretty charming, as most have told me she is. Funny, too. And it’s one thing todefend my family if she attacks; it’s another to kill her when she doesn’t even know who I am.

And then there’s that niggling voice at the back of my brain telling me she has every right to want revenge when my brother did what he did.