Last Diner Standing by Terri L. Austin Page A

ex-husband, Asshat, in a coma.”
    His lips edged up in the corners.
    “Asshat is a ladies man. And a few days before his argument with Janelle, he went to The Bottom Dollar and was throwing money around. But Asshat doesn’t have a job.” I shook my head. “At least not on the books. So where did he get all that money? Anyway, at the strip club, he got a lap dance from every girl there, except his ex-girlfriend, Chicken Licker.”
    Sullivan held up a hand. “I have to stop you there. Why Chicken Licker?”
    “Because she and Asshat ate chicken and diddled each other in Janelle’s bed. At the same time.”
    He paused. “That’s a disturbing image.” 
    I grinned. “You mean you don’t eat during sex?” As soon as the teasing words left my mouth, I realized what I had said. I pushed the glass away. No more brandy for me.
    “No.” His deep voice lowered to a husky timber. He shifted in his chair and leaned his arms on the table. “I’m far too busy putting my mouth to better use.”
    Oh. My. God. I couldn’t talk, could hardly breathe. My gaze tangled with his and my face heated. I licked my dry lips and tried to focus my thoughts.
    “Are you going to finish your story?” He raised a brow as he leaned back.
    I cleared my throat. “He and Chicken Licker got in a fight. She was thrown out of the club, lost her job.  Then Asshat got his head bashed in. And I think Crystal is still looking for the money.”
    “Are Crystal and Chicken Licker one and the same?”
    I nodded. “Yesterday, Roxy and I went to Asshat’s house, looking for any clue as to who did this to him, because of course, Janelle’s completely innocent.”
    “Of course,” he murmured. He stroked his chin with one finger and watched me. 
    Bending down to the floor, I grabbed my purse and dug out the papers and pictures. My eyes found his. Okay, Rose, time to cowboy up .
    “I found these hidden in Asshat’s house. Stuffed in his toilet.” When I handed them to him, our fingers barely touched. Still, it was enough to feel a sharp tug of attraction in the pit of my stomach.
    He read the notes, his jaw tightening with every second that passed. Then he looked at the photos. The skin around his compressed lips turned white.
    Like I said. Pissed.
    “When did you find these?”
    “Sunday,” I said, grimacing.
    “And you kept this from me?” he ground out.
    “Hey, you’ve kept shit from me before.” That was no excuse, but it was true.
    He rose from the table so quickly, it startled me. He strode to the door like a large tiger, eating up the short distance before pivoting on his heel and stalking back.
    As he moved toward me, I scrambled from my seat and backed myself into a corner. I wanted to get out of his way, but I was out of room unless I climbed the walls. Still he advanced, stopping in front of me, his chest touching mine. 
    Leaning one hand on the wall behind me, he pressed himself into me. He was breathing hard, almost panting. I focused on the knot in his tie. Real silk, dark teal. He shook the papers with his free hand. “Do you know what this is? Look at me, goddamn it.” He never raised his voice, but anger coated his words in ice.
    I slowly raised my eyes to his. His pupils had constricted, and his eyes, light gold a moment ago, were dark with rage. Color suffused his cheeks, leaving them ruddy. He let go of the wall and grabbed my chin, tilting my head up further. “Someone’s been following me, knows my every fucking move, and you didn’t tell me.”
    I felt an overwhelming sense of guilt. This man had helped me more than once. I owed him, not just money, I owed him my loyalty. He was right, I should have told him, shouldn’t have turned this into a game of one-upmanship.
    With my fingertips, I touched the back of his hand that gripped my chin. “I’m sorry. I wanted to find out more before I showed you. I was wrong.”
    In that instant, everything changed between us. The air became charged with a potency that left