Naomi rolled her eyes. “I didn’t get rid of your brother yet.”
“You can keep the hundred if you go away,” I said, needing to get her out from between my brother and my best friend.
“Deal. Lucian, I’ll see you back in there with a fresh drink,” she promised. “Nash, it was fun flirting with you.”
“The pleasure was all mine, darlin’,” my brother drawled, tossing her a little salute.
We all watched her sashay to the bar.
My head hurt from not yelling. My jaw was so tight I worried I’d crack a tooth. I didn’t know what it was about that woman, but Naomi Witt had me tied up in fucking knots. I didn’t like it one bit.
“What are you doing back in town?” Nash asked Lucian.
“You sound like a cop,” Lucian complained.
“I am a cop.”
Chief Nash rankled me.
The three of us had grown up raising hell and bending laws until they broke. Nash growing up to be a cop felt like some kind of betrayal. The straight and narrow was too confining for me. I didn’t stray too far from the line these days, but I made sure to step into the gray every now and again for old time’s sake.
Lucian was another story. Trouble didn’t follow him. He had a tendency to make it wherever he went. If he was back in Knockemout, it sure as hell wasn’t for a stroll down memory lane.
“A man can’t feel nostalgic for his childhood?” Lucian mused, expertly avoiding the question.
“Your childhood sucked,” Nash pointed out. “You haven’t been back in years. Something brought you back, and it better not be trouble.”
“Maybe I got tired of hearing how the Morgan brothers are too stubborn to remove their heads from their asses. Maybe I came back to help you bury the hatchet.”
Naomi breezed by with a tray full of drinks and an easy smile for Lucian and Nash. The smile changed to a scowl when she looked at me.
“No one needs any help with any hatchet,” I insisted, stepping in front of him to cut off his view of Naomi’s curvy, retreating ass.
“That hatchet that you two have been wrestling over for two years is stupid. Get over it and move the fuck on,” Lucian said.
“Don’t use that Beltway Bullshit tone with us,” Nash said.
Lucian had built a political consulting firm that involved far too many shadows for Nash’s liking. Our friend had a gift for putting the fear of God into his clients or the people who stood between his clients and what they wanted.
“That shit don’t fly in Knockemout,” I reminded him.
“You two have nothing to worry about. Let’s have a drink for old time’s sake,” he suggested.
“Can’t tonight,” Nash said. “On duty.”
“Then I guess you’d better get back to work,” I told my brother.
“Guess I better. Try not to let any pissed-off poker players bust up the place tonight. I don’t feel like handling the paperwork.”
“Dinner. Tomorrow night. Your place,” Lucian said, pointing upstairs.
“Works for me,” I said.
“Fine,” Nash agreed. “It is good to see you, Lucy.”
Lucian gave him a half smile. “It’s good to be seen.” He turned to me. “I’ll catch up with you when you’re hovering over Naomi.”
I flipped him off.