Page 23 of Savage Promises (Quinlan Empire #2)

Lennox

T he following evening, I sit perched on one of the barstools, swirling the glass rim of a Tequila Sunrise Mara whipped up for me in lazy circles. Mixed with orange juice, I don’t taste the tequila as much, a reminder of my night with Shane.

“With that new superhero blockbuster coming out tomorrow, this place will be a ghost town for a few days,” I say then take a sip. “I swear, I think half the city is waiting to see that movie.”

“I’ll be streaming it at home.” Mara cuts up some limes. “After hours. Those fools are missing out. They can have both. The best time in Astoria and their dose of Chris Hemsworth.”

“The best drinks are right here, too,” I say, raising my glass to her.

“Especially now that drunk bonehead from earlier is gone, huh?” Mara says, wiping down the bar with a fresh cloth.

“Don’t remind me.” I cringe, thinking of the nightmare customer who was harassing women on the dance floor.

He probably had too much to drink, but Liam handled him, tossed him out on his ass.

“Here’s to hoping movie theaters don’t start serving alcohol.” Mara lifts a shot and swigs it back, her jet-black curls a chaos around her slender face.

My eyes wander to the VIP area where I offered Shane a perfect backdrop for his proposal this weekend. What the hell was I thinking?

I want him to propose to me. And that’s a dangerous thing to admit .

Mara’s jade green eyes narrow on me. “You seem off. What’s up?”

I hesitate, but she’s my best friend. There’s no point in hiding it. “It’s Shane.”

Her eyebrows shoot up. “Mr. Tall, Dark, and Mob Boss-y?”

I let out a half-laugh, half-sigh. “If by dark you mean deadly, yeah. Him. But you left off one detail. He’s my sister’s fiancé.”

Mara finishes making a dirty martini for a woman at the end of the bar and sets down the shaker. “You’re still in love with him, aren’t you?”

The admission sits heavy in my chest. I stare down at the red-orange swirls in my drink, avoiding her gaze. “It’s worse than that.”

“You fucked him?”

“No.” I nearly knock over my drink. “You think I would do that to my sister?”

“I guess not.” She gives me a once-over. “You wouldn’t be so moody if that breathtaking man was laying his pipe deep in your oil field.”

“You missed your calling.” I clear my throat. “Ms. Poet.”

Mara leans in, her tone dropping to something darker. “You’re better off. You and I both know that world.” She grew up around here with me. “It’s dangerous. Not just for your heart, but for your life.”

“I can’t flip the switch so easily this time, Mara. I’ve tried.”

She taps her finger on the bar thoughtfully, then brightens like she’s had an idea. “Hey, give me your phone.”

I blink up at her. “What? Why?”

“You need to date. Distract yourself.”

I hold my phone protectively against my chest. “ That’s a terrible idea.”

“Trust me. You’re not going to do it yourself, so I’m doing it for you.” Before I can protest, she snatches the phone from my hands.

“Mara!” I start, but it’s too late.

Her fingers are already flying over the screen, downloading an app. “Here,” she says triumphantly, giving the phone back to me. “You’re live and already getting views.”

“Really?” I groan at the profile photo she chose. “The black satin catsuit from the Halloween contest last fall?”

“You looked so hot in that thing. Guys will know it’s a costume.” She waves me off.

“By the number of hits coming in, I doubt it.” I scroll through the profile names and photos. “This is ridiculous. I’m not doing this.”

“Oh, come on,” Mara teases, leaning on the bar. “Some of these guys are hot. Look at him. Blond, great jawline, nice shoulders. Probably not tied up in organized crime. Or engaged to someone else.”

“Mara,” I groan. “I’m not in the mood.”

She shrugs, unbothered. “Fine. But the app is staying on your phone. Just in case.”

I shove the phone into my pocket, the app still dinging away. I’m more annoyed with myself than Mara. She’s right about one thing. I should find someone else.

I awkwardly gaze out at my club, looking at male customers differently for the first time. I catch sight of a very handsome guy in a nice suit ordering a drink at the VIP table, but my stomach twists. Nobody else has that soul-shattering effect on me like Shane.

From the bouncer tunnel, a large party floods in. I slide off the stool, making room at the bar, and retreat to my office. The worn leather chair behind my desk creaks as I sink into it. My phone buzzes in my skirt’s pocket, more notifications from the dating app. Curious, I pull it out and look.

The messages are surprisingly normal. Guys in button-down shirts or polos offer friendly smiles saying hello, asking about... I lean in to see if I’m reading correctly. One guy asks about Hawk.

Clever.

I scroll through the rest of the photos that Mara uploaded and the ones with me and my furry guy get the most likes.

Figures.

Several ask if he’s available for adoption. I delete those, worrying I put a bounty on his little head. Some people might even track me down to The Sterling and if they see Hawk sitting on the piano cleaning his paws, they’ll snatch him. Every other profile I view seems nice. Normal. Boring.

I sigh, closing the app, and set the phone aside. My life isn’t in a good place for dating right now. Especially with Shane Quinlan still occupying space in my head.

The night ticks on, and by the time two a.m. is knocking on the door, the club is nearly empty.

My staff has the closing routine down to a science, so I step outside to wait for Liam.

As the last bouncer on duty for the night, he brings my car around from the parking lot.

He never lets me walk there myself this late.

The chilly air bites at my skin, but it’s refreshing after the warmth of the club.

That’s when I see him. The same guy who got thrown out by Liam for causing trouble on the dance floor. He’s swaying slightly, cursing to himself.

“Hey,” he slurs, noticing me. “I know you. You were in that shitty bar.”

I ignore him and turn to go back inside.

With my fingers around the club’s door handle, the guy’s voice turns meaner.

“Do you think you’re too good to talk to me? Like that cunt who wouldn’t dance with me?”

“Have a good night, sir,” I say, keeping my tone even.

I go to pull on the door handle again, but before I can step inside, he grabs my arm.

“Don’t walk away from me,” he growls, his grip tightening painfully.

Fear prickles along the back of my neck. I yank my arm, but his hold doesn’t budge. “Let go of me.”

The guy grins, leaning in closer with horrible breath from too much hard liquor. “Oh no. I got you now. And you’ll give me what I want.”

My heart lands in my dry throat, and I reach into my purse for the pepper spray. But this mountain of a guy hauls me off my feet and drags me toward the nearby alleyway.