Page 9 of Darkness Bound (Night Prowler 5)
“Why do I feel like I know you?” she pressed. “Or I’m supposed to know you? Or I’m missing something here?”
This trio of questions was met with a brief, telling flicker of what looked like surprise in his eyes—maybe alarm—which was quickly smothered.
In a flash of comprehension that was like a floodlight flipped on, Jack understood.
Her laugh was loud and relieved. “Oh, you’re good!” she managed between the laughter that wouldn’t seem to stop coming. “Damn! She has amazing taste, I’ll give her that, but I am going to kill her!”
Hawk stared at her in silence as she groaned and passed a hand over her eyes, embarrassed at herself that she thought there was anything else going on between her and this impossibly big, beautiful man with the ridiculous nickname.
Jack had girlfriends, most of them childless career girls like her, but only one best friend with whom she shared everything. They’d met in college, and though total opposites in almost every way, had formed an unbreakable bond of friendship when they’d discovered they had something terrible in common, a horror they’d survived in childhood that had left them scarred in exactly the same ways.
Inola Hart was a full-blooded Cherokee Indian, raised on a reservation, striking and statuesque and whip smart, with a devilish sense of humor that often took the form of practical jokes. She now worked as an attorney at the UN, and the last time they’d seen each other, when Jack had gone to DC for a reception hosted by the President in celebration of getting his anti-Shifter agenda pushed through Congress several months back, Nola had threatened Jack with a surprise for her thirtieth birthday. A birthday that was, in fact, this very day.
The surprise was supposed to be a male escort, so Jack, for the first time in years, could get laid. At the time, it had just seemed like a casual conversation; but obviously Nola took it a little more seriously . . . Jack thought back on their conversation.
“If I just didn’t ever have to see him again, you know?” Jack mused as she and Nola stood together in one corner of the grand East ballroom at the White House, scanning the crowd for familiar faces, nursing cocktails and discussing, for the umpteenth time, the problem of their barren sex lives. Neither wanted a relationship, but neither wanted to be celibate either.
“I hear you,” replied Nola, neatly downing the rest of her pomegranate martini. “My last time was supposed to be a one-nighter with this junior attorney I met at a charity function, but he turned out to be a friggin’ stalker. That guy would not leave me alone. Do you know I came home one night and he was hiding in the bushes by my front door? I literally had to beat him with my purse to get him to go away.”
At that point Jack turned a critical eye to her friend, giving her tall, elegant figure, nut-brown skin, upswept black hair, and aristocratic features a swift once-over. “Can you blame him? If I were a guy I’d go all stalker on you, too, lady. You look like one of those Indian Disney princesses.”
“Please,” Nola scoffed, “don’t insult my intelligence! Those Indian Disney princesses are just white girls painted brown. Tell me I look like Beyoncé instead. She’s beautiful and she isn’t sitting around waiting for some dim-witted prince to come along and save her incompetent ass.”
“Girlfriend, I hate to break it to you, but you look nothing like Beyoncé.”
Nola pretended outrage. “I so do! Okay, Halle Berry then.” She stood waiting for Jack’s response with her head tilted back as though for inspection.
Jack asked, “Are you operating under the mistaken impression that you’re black, crazy person?”
She answered in all seriousness, “I’m just talking general chocolate hotness here.” At which point Jack laughed so hard vodka sprayed out of her nose.
“You see—that.” Nola watched in amusement as Jack mopped her face and chin with a cocktail napkin. “That right there should be enough for any sane man to fall in love with you.”
“No love,” Jack emphatically replied. “Remember? No complications. No relationships. Just a little . . . relief every once in a while would be perfect.”
Nola brightened. “What about an escort?”
“Uh, no, thanks. I’m as liberated as the next girl, but that’s kinda weird.”
“What if he was JFK Jr. hot? Like that guy?” She pointed out the tall figure of a man crossing the ballroom. Dark-haired and lean, he was unexpectedly good-looking in the dull crowd of attorneys, pundits, and politicians.
Jack pondered it, then shrugged. “Doesn’t matter, anyway. That phone call is not something I could ever see myself making. ‘Oh, hi, is this the man-whore agency? Great, please send over your best, pronto.’ So not going to happen.”
“Maybe I’ll surprise you with one for your birthday,” Nola countered with a smile, and the two of them laughed and moved on to another topic.
Jack thought Nola had been joking. Clearly she hadn’t been. And if anyone could arrange for a hot male escort to wine and dine her in Brazil, it was Nola. The rescue bit was a little over the top . . . God, he must have followed her to the market, too! Unbelievable planning. Touché, girlfriend. Touché.
“You’re going to kill who, exactly?” Hawk’s voice was gruff, his expression puzzled.
Boy, he was good at this!
“Okay, then, I’ll play your little game. Hawk.” She had to stifle another laugh as she said his name. He pretended to scowl at her, which made her laugh even harder. The forty-something, busty waitress she’d seen him talking to on the other side of the bar arrived with two shots of tequila and set them on the table, one in front of Jack, the other in front of Hawk. His came complete with batted lashes and a simper.
“Oh, thank you!” Jack smiled broadly at the waitress. She reluctantly dragged her attention away from Hawk to scrutinize Jack in obvious disapproval, lips pursed.
“You’re welcome.” After a pause and a glance in Hawk’s direction, she added, “He’s really great, you know.”
Ah. This bar was Hawk’s normal hunting grounds. Jack wondered if Nola had even gone so far as to instruct the concierge at the hotel where to send her, and decided it was completely within the realm of possibility. Her best friend had wanted to make it seem as realistic and coincidental as possible. This was getting better and better.
