Page 16 of Fraud
I could see the allure if you were young and single, looking for a good time with friends or a place to pick up someone for the night. It was the kind of place I would go. But what I couldn’t understand was why a literary agent would take her high-dollar client here. Maybe this elusive author with no name was as crazy as her fans believed her to be.
I mean, I’d read her book. And some of those scenes? I’d thought I was experienced in the bedroom, but there were things in that novel that even I hadn’t thought up. If she was, as I suspected, a wild and insane sort of girl, it would make this job a bit easier.
And a hell of a lot more fun.
Taking a leisurely stroll around the bar, I claimed an empty stool and waited for the bartender to notice me. From here, I could see virtually the entire place.
Perfect.
The subtle art of people-watching took time, and if done properly, I’d be able to pinpoint my target without drawing any unnecessary attention to myself.
I needed the upper hand after all—time to observe them, study them.
Yeah, okay, it was stalking.
But I wasn’t a psychotic ex with intentions of harming anyone, so I let it slide. A twinge of guilt tore at my gut as I realized that wasn’t an entirely correct statement. By revealing this author’s identity, I would in fact be hurting her, but after a year of living off of ramen and taking any freelance job I could get, I was desperate.
“What can I get you?” a cute brunette with a perky smile asked.
I hadn’t expected a female bartender. The happy surprise suited me just fine.
Smiling back, I answered, “Whiskey sour. Thanks.”
She stayed put, fixing my drink in front of me. I took a minute to appreciate the view.
“Just get off work?” she asked, making idle chat, most likely in an effort to increase her tip.
“Still on the clock,” I replied. “Hoping to meet up with a couple potential clients.”
Lies. All lies.
“Kind of a crazy place for a business meeting, don’t you think?” she said, nearly shouting over the music playing on the dance floor.
I shrugged, leaning forward. “I didn’t pick it.”
“Your clients must be a bit of a party animal then,” she said, placing my finished drink on a napkin down on the bar. Her fingers lingered, like a silent invitation.
“I’m getting that impression.”
I handed over my credit card, and she took a quick glance down at my name.
“I’ll open a tab for you, Killian. Sounds like you’ll be here a while.” A sweet smile played upon her lips as she looked up at me. “Maybe you’ll be here when I get off?”
“Maybe.”
She trotted off, stashing my credit card with the rest of the evening tabs, as I looked back to get a glimpse of the crowd around me.
The place was packed.
How the hell was I going to find anyone, let alone someone I didn’t even know, in this crowd?
Part of me—the tired, jet-lagged, seriously horny part—wanted to cash in at that moment. Give up and go back to my hotel. Maybe return a few hours later to pick up the hot bartender. After all, I did know where this mystery woman worked.
But that wasn’t really who I was.
So, let’s get to work.
Grabbing my drink, I swallowed it down in one solid gulp. The alcohol burned as it slipped down my throat and went straight into my belly, filling me with liquid courage.
