She polished off her wine like it was shot of tequila. “Let’s keep moving then.”
Oh, she was absolutely not discussing the kiss. No way, no how.
“Okay,” he said.
* * *
KEEP MOVING. THAT was Josie Lynn’s first instinct, just like it always was. She wanted to forge ahead and get the answers they needed. She certainly didn’t want to be making out with a Bourbon Street band guy. Talk about the king of all bad boys.
No, she had to amend that, she did want to be making out with a Bourbon Street band guy, and that was why she had to keep moving. Get this mystery solved and get away from him ASAP.
Hadn’t her last bad-boy boyfriend taught her enough of a lesson about why this type of man was exactly the type of man she needed to avoid? Sure, this guy would be fun for a while. But then things would go horribly wrong. He’d want to “borrow” money. He’d want a place to crash for “just a couple days.” Or he’d be seeing other women on the side. Or all of the above. Josie Lynn had experienced it all. And she wasn’t going there again. Ever.
“So should we head to your place?” she asked as she stood, reaching for a pocket she realized she didn’t have—not that it mattered, since she didn’t have any cash either. Shit, this no-money thing was a real pain in the ass.
“Don’t worry,” the bartender, a pierced and tattooed woman in her early twenties said as she brushed a shock of fuchsia hair out of her eyes. “Marcus picked up the tab on these for you.”
“That was nice,” Drake said, clearly relieved, too.
“Well you did buy all the rounds last night,” the woman said, giving them a look that stated it had been a lot of rounds.
“Oh right,” Drake said, not sounding nearly as worried as Josie Lynn felt. How much money had they spent last night? And did that mean they’d had their wallets—and clothes—at that point last night? And exactly how much money did we spend, she thought again. She didn’t have money to spare.
She didn’t have any money at all, it would appear.
Drake thanked the bartender again, then waited for Josie Lynn to lead the way.
“You first,” she said. She had no idea how they’d gotten to this back room, and frankly the combination of loud, thumping metal music, dim lighting, and winding hallways was too much for her to deal with.
And it definitely wasn’t the fact that she was so shaken by Drake’s kiss. No, not at all.
She followed him through the hallways that just seemed to lead from one bar or nook to another. The Dungeon didn’t seem like an appropriate name for this place. The Creepy, Really Loud Maze seemed like a better name to her.
The operative word being creepy. A cold shiver snaked up her spine, and she found herself looking behind her. She expected to see another patron—after all, it was a bar and club, but the hallway was empty.
Drake made another turn only to end up in another hallway. They passed another strange little alcove and again, Josie Lynn felt that weird shivery feeling at the back of her neck.
She looked behind her again just in time to see a flash of purple and red and black slip into the nook they’d just passed.
Obsidian.
Was she following them? The idea unnerved Josie Lynn. A lot. Marcus made it sound like the woman had a reputation for being more than a little strange. And they’d just considered the idea that she was nutty enough to drug a whole wedding party.
Josie Lynn touched Drake’s arm, and he immediately stopped.
“I think Obsidian just stepped into that alcove,” Josie Lynn said leaning close so he could hear her over the thundering industrial music. “I think she might be following us.”
“She is,” he said with full certainty.
“Did you see her, too?”
Drake shook his head, which suddenly turned to a nod. “Yeah, I did.”
Josie Lynn frowned. She hadn’t seen him looking back at any time. But maybe he had at the same time she did.
“What do we do?” she asked, truly disturbed by this weird chick.
“Ignore her. She’s no threat.”
She looked behind her again to be sure Obsidian wasn’t coming. “But Marcus made her sound pretty much like a wackadoo.”
Drake smiled. “She may be a wackadoo, but you are definitely safe with me. No worries.”
He took her hand and continued down the hallway. Josie Lynn glanced back over her shoulder. She wasn’t sure if she was really safe with Drake, but his strong hand around hers did make her feel better.
And once they were out of the tangle of shadowy hallways and back onto the crowded, garishly lit streets of the French Quarter, she decided she had a new appreciation for Bourbon Street. All the people made her feel safer. Although she had to admit, Drake was making her feel safe, too, and she definitely wasn’t willing to release his hand.
There was no way around it. Obsidian was weird.
“Now you understand why I was avoiding her. She’s not right,” Drake said as if he was reading Josie Lynn’s mind, and she had to admit she did understand why. She just wished she didn’t always react so strongly to his method of avoiding.
Damn, he was a good kisser.
And those thoughts, my friend, will get you neck deep into all sorts of trouble. Trouble with a naughty smile, an amazing kiss, a killer body, and sexual skills she was willing to bet would leave her a heap of cum-soaked Jell-O.
Okay, that image was kind of gross . . . but she suspected very accurate.
And one she had to forget about. But what other things could he do with that mouth?
“Are you okay?”
She frowned up at him, wondering if she’d actually said some of her thoughts aloud or something.
Oh dear God, please tell me I didn’t say that Jell-O thing aloud.
“You’re squeezing my hand,” he explained, clearly seeing she had no idea why he’d asked.
She instantly released his hand. “Yeah—yeah, I’m fine. I just wish we could figure out what happened last night.”
He looked down at his now-empty hand, then back at her as if he didn’t believe her, but he said nothing more, leading her across Bourbon to the other side of the street. They walked past a bar that she recognized as the one Marcus had mentioned they played at. Instead of walking into the bar door, he took a small side one.
“You live over the bar where you work?” she said as soon as they were in the somewhat quieter stairwell.
“Crazy, huh?” he said. “But I’m rarely late for work.”