I dropped a case of Shiner Bock onto the bar, then reached into my pocket for the box cutter.

“Top me off?”

My hand froze as I looked into Laurel’s piercing blue eyes. Shifting my gaze to Calista, sitting at a table a few feet away with her arms crossed over her chest, my apprehension waned a bit.

“Depends on what you’re drinking,” I said.

She rolled her eyes. “Just club soda, warden.”

I sprayed a shot of seltzer into her glass. “I ain’t your warden, darlin’.”

Casting off my sarcasm, Laurel brightened at the playful term of endearment. “But Logan says you’re everyone’s keeper.” Sliding her gaze to the side, she muttered, “Even if you are farming it out in my case.”

The fuck?

Placing my palms flat on the bar, I waited patiently for her to look back at me. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Calista?” Lauren tinkled the ice in her glass, barely containing the sneer curling her lip. “Your hired gun.”

Smirking, I pulled a bottle of beer from the vat. “Sober companion is the proper term.”

Considering the sour look twisting Laurel’s mouth, “companion” was a stretch.

“I was thinking more like pit bull,” she spat. “She’s certainly got the face for it.”

My anger roared to life as I leaned across the bar. “Listen, princess. I don’t care whether you like Calista or not, she’s trying to help your ass. Show some respect.”

Eyes round, Laurel’s mouth fell open and then her gaze dropped to my fingers, balled into a fist around the bar towel.

“Geez, I didn’t mean anything.” Lifting her glass, she took a drink. “Get a grip.”

Regret settled over me despite the lingering irritation. Laurel was damaged. To what extent I wasn’t sure. The private investigator Logan had hired to find Laurel uncovered numerous hospital visits for everything from broken ribs to a dislocated shoulder. Whether it was a boyfriend, a pimp, or the strip club owner she worked for, someone had abused her.

Dropping my forearms onto the bar, I lowered my head to catch Laurel’s eyes. “Has Calista shared any of her story?”

She shook her head.

I grabbed a ticket from one of the cocktail waitresses and then pulled out a couple of shot glasses. “Ask her, she’ll fill in the details. But I’ll give you the highlights. Addicted before she was old enough to drive. Two kids by the time she was eighteen. And one hell of a nasty drug habit.”

Filling a shaker with vodka and lemon juice, I smiled. “Don’t let the business clothes fool you. And I wouldn’t let her hear you call her a pit bull. Calista’s actually pretty graceful. Made a lot of money as a dancer.”

Letting that nugget sink in, I poured the Lemon Drops into the shot glasses and then finished loading the tray with bottled beer.

“You mean a stripper, right?” Laurel asked after the waitress picked up the order.

“Yep.”

“But, I thought …” Suspicion threaded her tone. “She works for you.”

I barked out a laugh. “I own two bars and three restaurants. A few buildings. But no strip clubs. Calista is VP of Human Resources for The Phoenix Group.”

Laurel’s cheeks flamed as she stared into her drink. “Must be nice.”

I bit my tongue. Laurel still didn’t get it. Nothing about Calista’s life was nice. Or easy. Calista fought tooth and nail to get clean, stay clean, and piece her life back together. And now she was trying to pay it forward. Because I asked her to.

Shaking my head, I strode to the cash register to run the night’s receipts, keeping one eye on Laurel in the mirror. She looked around, her gaze flitting over all the women and lingering on the groups of unattached guys interspersed throughout the crowd. Clearly, Laurel was on the prowl, which I guess was better than the alternative. Setting her sights on a guy who took a seat a couple of stools down, Laurel adjusted her top, allowing the swell of her breast to spill from her V-neck T-shirt.

I twisted to take a closer look at Prince Charming. Clean-cut. Longhorn T-shirt and faded denim. No tats.

Laurel scooted down one seat, smiling at the kid, and I chuckled to myself. Sex on the brain twenty-four seven, just like her brother.

Not that I had any room to talk. Flashes of Taryn and the look on her face when I was buried between her thighs kept me semi-aroused all fucking day yesterday. Hell, I had to forcibly contain myself from jerking off like some hormone-riddled teenager.

I finally gave in when I was in the shower this morning, visions of Taryn on her knees, working me over with that pretty mouth spurring me on. But my spank session was more about ego than anything else. I had to let off a little steam or I’d blow the second Taryn was under me. And she would be under me. Tonight, sometime after eight fifty-five.

I motioned for Calista to come over. “I thought we agreed that the kid would steer clear of the bar?”

“She’s not a prisoner, Chase. I took her to a meeting, and she mentioned that she wanted to hear a little music. She told me that.” When I couldn’t muster more than a blank expression, Calista sighed. “If she wanted to get wasted, she wouldn’t have told me. And that’s why I’m sitting here. No, it’s not ideal.” She scratched her arm absently. “For her or for me. But she was going to go tonight, regardless. Believe that.”

I covered Calista’s hand with mine. “You know I appreciate this, Cal.”

She smiled. “You can appreciate the hell out of me on my birthday. I’ll make you a list.

After Calista returned to her post with a fresh club soda, Seth tapped me on the shoulder.

“Everything’s in the back of your car, just like you asked.” He handed over my keys. “I threw in some dessert. It wasn’t on the list.” His brow arched. “Unless you’ve got something else in mind for dessert.”

I did, but there was no way I was going to let my asshat bouncer in on the plan.

“Thanks.”

Sifting through a bowl full of peanuts on the bar, Seth grabbed a handful from the bottom. “So, who’s the chick? Is she smoking hot?” He tossed the nuts into his mouth. “Sharing is caring, my brother. Tell me all about it.”

I caught Seth’s arm when he went rooting through the bowl for a second time. “Other people have to eat those. Stop digging around. I have no idea where those fingers have been.”

Clueless as ever, Seth leaned a hip against the cooler. “Whoever this chick is, does she have a sister? Because anyone who’s got you this worked up—”

“I’m not worked up,” I growled. “And I’m not running a dating service. There’s a bar full of women here.”

But none of them were Taryn. And the fact that I was crawling out of my skin because I hadn’t seen her? Yeah, that wasn’t sitting well with me.

Grabbing a bar towel, I went to work scrubbing some imaginary stain. “Sorry, it’s not you,” I grumbled, lifting my chin to Laurel, making goo-goo eyes at Joe College. “Can you keep an eye on that for me?”

One corner of Seth’s mouth quirked up as his attention shifted to Laurel. “I didn’t know you had a thing for Logan’s sister. You want me to go break that up so you can take her upstairs?” Tilting his head, his smile grew. “She is really hot. I wouldn’t mind—”

Before I knew it, I had Seth backed into a corner, my finger an inch from his nose. “Laurel is family. And she’s a fucking baby. So, if you have any thoughts about tapping that, think again. After I got through with you, Logan would work you over so good you’d be taking your meals through a straw.”

Bridgette slid between us, her fingers coiling around my arm. “You boys fighting over me again?”

Strain infused her bubbly tone as her gaze volleyed between Seth and me. The bouncer outweighed me by a good thirty pounds, all muscle, but you’d never know it by the way his hands flew up in surrender. “Jesus, Chase. I was only messing around.”

Tearing my murderous gaze from his face, I looked down at Bridgette. “I have plans. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Muttering a hasty goodbye to Laurel, I sized up her new friend, who seemed harmless enough.

On my way out, I pulled Seth aside. “I’m going to let that shit back there slide this one time. But I swear to you, man, Logan ever sees you look crossways at li’l sis, he’ll kill you.”

Seth’s hearty laugh faded when he saw the serious set of my jaw. Anyone but Logan and the threat would be idle, and Seth knew it.

Bits of random conversation from the crowds meandering down the sidewalk filtered through my open car window as I waited at the light a block from Taryn’s building. But I couldn’t hear anything beyond the whir in my head.

Taryn’s last text promised a call when she got home. That was an hour ago.

She’s blowing you off.

The thought lingered as I eased to a stop at the hidden gate in back of her building. My fingers hovered over the keypad. Only five people had the code so the blip would definitely show up on the security print out.

Punching in the code, I threw up a smile for the camera in the corner, trained on my car window. And then I drove through the gate.