Reid shook his head. “She’ll just run farther away.”
“Maybe, maybe not. And she can’t run too far—you’ll be back in the office with her on Monday.”
Reid gave a noncommittal grunt. He hadn’t told Jace, but he’d be looking for a new place to move his office to on Monday. No way would he be able to see Brynn every day knowing he couldn’t have her. Masochism was not his kink.
Jace set his bottle down, his expression brightening. “All right, enough of this, I’ve got an idea.”
Reid shot him a wary look. “Dangerous words coming from you.”
“No, I’m serious. We’re not doing anyone any good sitting here having a fuck-my-life conversation. And it’s time for you to stop doing the hermit thing.”
Reid tilted his bottle back. “I think the hermit lifestyle suits me. I’d look good with a beard.”
He shook his head. “No. Three weeks of house arrest is long enough. It’s Friday night, your shoulder sling is off—we should go do something.” He checked his watch. “I have a friend whose band is playing tonight. Why don’t we grab a burger, then go to their show?”
“Don’t you have a roommate you can drag to these things?”
“The department switched Andre to the night shift. Plus, he hates hard rock.”
“I don’t think—”
Jace hopped from his chair. “I’m changing that from a request to an order. You owe me.”
“Seriously?” Reid cocked an eyebrow. “You’re ordering me around? That head injury really did do some damage.”
He crooked a thumb toward the house. “Come on, don’t be a douche. Go get showered and changed. I’ve seen homeless people who look better than you.”
Reid flipped him off, but rose from his chair. Maybe Jace was right. He’d done nothing but work on Hank’s case and worry about Brynn since he’d come home from the hospital. Maybe getting out of the house would help his sour mood. He headed into the house, Jace hot on his heels. He glanced over his shoulder. “Where are you going?”
“To help myself to the rest of your beer supply.”
Reid walked into the nightclub already itching to leave. After three weeks of holing up in his quiet house, the blinking lights and heavy rock beat overloaded his senses. He pulled at the sleeve of his black T-shirt, the snug fit irritating the healing bullet wound. Jace clapped him on his good shoulder. “Come on, there’s a table over there, next to the dance floor.”
Super. Just what he wanted to watch all night—happy couples having vertical sex.
He followed Jace, sank into one of the modern leather chairs, and prepared to brood. As soon as he could wrangle a waitress, he ordered a stiff drink and started his mental clock. One hour, and then he was leaving. His indebtedness to Jace only went so far.
Once the drinks arrived and he had sufficiently drained his and ordered another, he leaned toward Jace. “Who do you know in the band?”
Jace put his hand up to his ear to hear him over the thumping music. “What?”
He cocked his head toward the stage at the female-led rock band. “How do you know the band?”
The corner of Jace’s mouth tipped into a wry smile, and he pointed over Reid’s shoulder with his straw. “I don’t. But she does.”
Reid craned his neck in that direction and froze. Son of a bitch.
“She calls me every day to check on your recovery, you know,” Jace said. “I may have asked her what her plans were for the night.”
Reid gripped his drink so hard he was surprised the glass didn’t splinter. “I’m going to fucking kill you, man. You have no right to interfere.”
Jace shrugged. “So don’t do anything. Enjoy a few drinks and watch that dude take your girl onto the dance floor.”
Reid whirled around again to see Brynn take some yahoo’s hand and rise from her seat. He couldn’t see her face, but the short hem of her snug black dress taunted him, the sweet skin of her thighs and calves beckoning him to touch, taste, and devour.
But before the fantasies started weaving in his head, the guy’s hand slid onto the base of Brynn’s spine. Possessive. Presumptuous. Something dark and primal snapped inside Reid. He surged upward, no longer able to hear the music over the blood rushing in his ears.
Mine.