My desire for control flipped a switch, and a moment later I'd reversed our positions, crushing his gorgeous body against the wall—not that Lucas seemed to mind. His hands found their way under my black silk blouse, tugging it free from my skintight skirt and palming my breasts.
I gasped against his kiss as he rolled my nipples, sending wave after wave of pleasure shooting straight to my cunt. Mentally, I wrote a quick eulogy for my panties because they'd officially drowned.
One of his hands moved to my ass, groping it through the tight fabric of my skirt, and it was right on the tip of my tongue to tell him to rip the fucking thing off me.
Then the door opened again, and Zed's startled gaze met mine from a mere foot away.
16
It was safe to say I couldn't remember the last time I'd seen Zed speechless. But the way his eyes widened and lips parted, I'd say that he was pretty damn close.
"Zed, fuck off," I snapped, shoving him out of the office with a hand to his face, then kicking the door shut once more.
Lucas let out a soft laugh, and it brought me back to reality. Crap. I couldn't fuck him again, if for no other reason than he was my baby sister's crush.
Clearing my throat, I peeled my hands and body away from him and took a couple of very deliberate steps away. The message was clear, and he let out a disappointed sigh.
"Hayden—" he started to say, but I held a hand up to silence him.
Turning my back—because he was painfully tempting standing there basically naked—I quickly tucked my blouse back into my skirt and counted to five in my head. Okay, I counted to twenty.
Then I turned back around, stooped to pick up his towel from the ground, and handed it to him.
"Your break is probably over by now, Lucas," I told him in a cool voice, deliberately opening the door to indicate we were not continuing what we'd just started. No matter how badly my thighs were quivering with need.
Zed was waiting right outside the office door, his brow drawn in a deep scowl, and I opened the door wider to indicate he come in.
"Pretty sure Sisalee was looking for you, new kid. Something about a cowboy costume?" Zed arched a brow at Lucas, his quick gaze taking in all that naked skin and the small towel barely covering his dick.
Lucas ignored Zed—ballsy—and locked eyes with me. "I thought I was fired."
My teeth ground together; Zed would give me grief over this whole exchange later. "Did you lie about your mom?" I finally asked, my voice barely louder than a frustrated growl.
Lucas shook his head. "Not a word. God's honest truth, I wouldn't make something like that up."
I released the breath I hadn't known I was holding. "Then hurry up and get into costume. You get to keep one hundred percent of your tips on your first night."
Lucas frowned, his jaw tight with the need to argue with me. But at the end of the day, if he was telling me the truth about his mom's medical bills and the strain on their finances, then he wasn't going to take a barista job over this one. Not with the way those women were throwing cash at him downstairs.
So I just held his gaze steady, letting him draw that conclusion for himself. After a tense moment, he must have. His tense shoulders sagged, and his gaze dropped from mine as he gave a nod.
"Yes, ma'am," he murmured, stepping out of my office.
Zed didn't waste any time pushing the door shut again, slamming it behind Lucas's perfect ass, and turned to me with raised brows. "What—"
"Shut it," I barked, cutting him off before he could start on what he’d just witnessed. "What are you even doing here? I thought you were otherwise occupied." There was way too much emotion in my voice as I said it, and I cringed hearing the words out loud.
Zed heard it too, the perceptive bastard. His eyes widened, and the corner of his lips tugged up. "Are you jealous?"
Oh, hell no. Even if I were—which I wasn't—I sure as fuck wouldn’t admit it to his face.
My glare flattened, and I wiped all traces of emotion from my expression. "Tell me something, Zed. When you opened the door a moment ago, did that look like a woman still pining for a guy who turned her down seven years ago?"
I didn’t give him a chance to reply—I really didn’t want to hear what he had to say—instead crossing over to my desk to grab my phone where I'd left it, along with my empty martini glass.
"Come on," I told him. "We can talk in the mezzanine bar. I need another cocktail."
No, seriously. If I was going to keep up with the whiplash of my own conflicting personas, I needed shots. Zed could join me or not; I didn't much care.
Yet when I heard his footsteps follow and felt the feather-light touch of his fingers on my lower back as he pushed the door open for me at the end of the corridor, I let out a small sigh of relief. I couldn't afford to fuck things up with Zed. Not now, when I needed him to have my back more than ever before.
"So, Vega?" Zed prompted as we sat down on one of the low sofas overlooking the main stage. Whoops, did I subconsciously just want to see Lucas dance again? Possible. Very damn possible.
Zed sat beside me, rather than opposite, but it worked for me pulling up the documents on my phone to show him.
A waitress delivered drinks to us both, not needing to take our orders to know what we usually drank while working, and I opened the files Vega had sent. The first one was a scanned copy of the medical records for the kids in question.
Sure, it wasn't something I—or Vega—should have been able to access, but normal rules didn't really apply to us. My understanding of medical notes, though, wasn't amazing, so I just gave it a quick scan and handed the phone to Zed. He would have a much better understanding of what was included in those reports.
"Thoughts?" I asked after a moment.
He gave a small shrug and handed my phone back. "Not much useful info there. Logical conclusion from their tox screening is that they took a dirty batch of PCP, which isn't unusual in other areas of the country."
I grimaced. "Except in my territory where it's strictly prohibited. Fuck’s sake." I ruffled my fingers through my hair, staring out over the main club as I thought it through. Below us, “Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy” started playing, and a jaw-droppingly gorgeous cowboy strutted his shit out onto the stage.
"If it were an isolated incident, I'd say it was just one of Vega's boys trying to make a name for himself by expanding his portfolio," Zed commented, dragging my attention away from Lucas.
I nodded my agreement. "But it's not an isolated incident. Not with Sonny and that tattoo." With a long, frustrated exhale, I opened the next file Vega had sent over. It was typed up like a police report, but without any official logos, probably a copy from whatever local law enforcement was on his payroll.
"Surprise, surprise," I muttered, dread souring the drink in my stomach. "The kids described the plastic bag as being stamped with a geometric design of some sort." I raised my gaze to meet Zed's and gave a tight, bitter smile. "Wanna bet we know what that design looks like?"
Zed's jaw clenched, and I could almost hear his teeth grinding together. "If you hadn't already shot Chase in the head, I'd want to kill that bastard myself," he muttered, reaching out for his drink on the table and bringing it to his lips.