“You too,” I told him, keeping up the act that she was just a drunk friend of a friend because I knew Ty. He’d been trained by the best, my brother Jasper; he would keep his eyes on me until he was sure I was safe in my car. Passenger, too.
Sure enough, Ty didn’t step inside until I had Savannah buckled into the passenger seat with me beside her, foot on the gas as the car rolled out of the parking lot.
My shoulders relaxed the more distance I put between me and the casino, knowing that the time had come and gone for security to realize their charge was missing. Those guys would be dead by morning for an error of this magnitude.
“Shit. Or not.” A sharp right at the last street before the long private drive that led to Ashby Manor revealed that I might be the one dead before morning.
The woman in the passenger seat had dark hair but it was black, not brown. Her skin was pale, but alabaster pale rather than prison pale. And shit, she had a hell of a lot more body than Savannah Rhymer.
Because she wasn’t Savannah Rhymer.
Fuck my life.
Chapter Two
Maisie
“Are you sure you don’t want something to drink other than water, Bonnie?” Bonnie Byrne had somehow become my best friend during our time at Nevada University at Mayhem. She was the day to my night, the angel to my devil, and the designated driver to my drunken birthday girl.
Bonnie rolled her big eyes at me, lips curled up into affection and silent disapproval. “I’m fine with water, Maze. It’s the desert. Gotta rehydrate.”
“Of course you’re fine,” I told her and flung an arm over her shoulder to squeeze her tight. “But that hot bartender right there has been eyeing up your curves all night, and I’ll bet he’d love to make you any virgin cocktail you want.” I let the words roll off my tongue to tease her, loving the way her pale, freckled skin turned fiery red when she was embarrassed.
“Maisie! I can’t believe you just said that, out loud,” she added so low I could barely hear her. “The whole place heard you!” She looked around, horrified that someone might inadvertently learn about her virgin status when the truth was the guys in this room would fight to the death for the honor of deflowering her.
“I don’t care how hot the bartender is, he’s not Wyatt.” Wyatt was her loser boyfriend and Bonnie’s only blind spot in the world. I was hoping once we graduated, she’d look for a better man.
“Don’t worry, everyone is too lost in their own crap to pay attention to us. Except for a few guys I caught checking us out earlier.” The cutie pie bartender set down a double tequila for me and a Bahama Mama for Bonnie, virgin of course. “I’m so happy I convinced you to come out tonight. Without Wyatt.”
Bonnie flashed a shy smile and ducked her head down, hiding her face in the mouth of her glass. “It has been a while since I’ve gone out like this. I miss it sometimes.” Sadness flashed in her eyes and not for the first time, I wanted to kick Wyatt’s ass.
“And I miss having you out with me! The dynamic duo is back for my twenty-first, baby!” Living in a small-ish town like Glitz, next door to Vegas’ darker, younger cousin Mayhem, meant it was easy to get good and blasted well before my twenty-first birthday. But my brother Gunnar and his wife Peaches decided I needed a VIP room to celebrate this milestone.
Bonnie raised her glass. “To good friends.”
“Strong drinks,” I added the way I always did.
“And a night that never ends!” We finished the last line together, a promise we made late one night freshman year after I’d had too many cranberry vodka cocktails.
“Can you believe it, we’re already twenty-one years old. Where does the time go?” I shook my head and knocked back the tequila, taking the short glass of water the hot bartender pushed into my hands.
Bonnie let out a snort that was out of character for the good Catholic girl and covered her mouth in a hilariously horrified expression. “What is the matter with me?”
“Nothing in the world Bonnie and please don’t ever change.” You’d expect Bonnie to be uptight and judgmental given how she was raised, five days a week at the local Catholic church whether she wanted to or not, and that was on top of her Catholic school education. But Bonnie was sweet and even though she didn’t drink, the girl could make a sailor blush when it came to shaking her booty on the dance floor.
“We’re twenty-one, Maze, not fifty-one. We don’t even have our diplomas yet.”
The reminder brought another smile to my face. “Not yet. Six weeks from now, we’ll be college graduates. Adults. Dwellers in that gross place called the real world.”