Sloane jumped up and grabbed the baskets. “Yo! Who got the brisket nachos?”
Hands went up all over the bar.
“If I find out any of you are lying, I’ll personally ruin your life for an entire year.”
Sloane was no mild-mannered librarian. She had a legendary temper that, when roused, was a Category Five Shitstorm.
All but two hands wisely went down.
“That’s better,” she said.
“We got this, boss. See to your lady,” Milford insisted.
“Did Lucian—”
“Mr. Rollins is taking out the trash,” he said with a grin before ducking back into the kitchen.
I wanted to, but I was afraid her posse wouldn’t let me near her. I could punch an asshole out without a second thought, but I was smart enough to be a little terrified of the Honky Tonk women.
“Naomi,” I said, pounding a fist on the bathroom door. “If you don’t get your ass out here, I’m either comin’ in there or I’m gonna go knock more sense into that son of a bitch.”
The door opened, and Naomi, with smudged eye makeup, glared at me. “You will do no such thing.”
Relief coursed through me, and I leaned into her.
“I’m gonna touch you now because I need to. And I’m warning you in advance, because if I touch you and you flinch, I’m gonna go out in the parking lot and start kicking ass until he’s too broken to ever touch another woman again.”
Her eyes widened, but she nodded.
I tried to be gentle as I took her by the hand.
“We good?” I asked.
She nodded again.
It was good enough for me. I pulled her past the restrooms and Fi’s office into the next hallway that led to my office.
“I can’t believe this happened,” she groaned. “I’m so embarrassed.”
She hadn’t been embarrassed. She’d been fucking terrified. The look in her eyes when I stepped into the hall was one I’d never forget as long as I lived.
“The nerve of him showing up here, saying he wants me back because he misses how I cleaned up after him.”
I squeezed her hand. “Pay attention, Daisy.”
“To what? The way you turned his face into ground beef? Do you think you broke his nose?”
I knew I had. That was the point.
“Pay attention to this,” I said, pointing at the keypad next to the door. “0522.”
She stared at the keypad then back at me. “Why are you giving me the code?”
“If that guy or anyone else you don’t want to see shows up, you co
me back here, and you plug in 0522.”
“I’m trying to have a nervous breakdown, and you want me to memorize numbers.”