"No thank you, Teresa," Blake says, his voice strained.
"Lily, how 'bout you?"
"Alcohol. A big bottle," I spat, sitting on one of the stools.
Teresa pulls out a tumbler, fills it with Tequila and sets it in front of me.
I pick it up and hold it in toast to her. "Here's to getting drunk."
The glass is cool on my lips as the fiery liquor burns my throat. I slam the glass down on the counter-top. Keeping my hand around it, I slide it in front of Teresa. She refills it to the brim.
"The short version? Mr. Mason drank too much, went off with that whore, whom it turns out was paid by a hitman. Mr. Mason almost got shot in the back, but we took care of it. Hitman is dead and the whore is in jail. Fantastic evening," I say, looking at my glass.
I glance at Teresa, who is staring at me wide-eyed with her mouth hanging open. Smiling, I lift the glass to my lips, drain it again, set it down, and stand.
"I'm going to bed. Sammi set the alarms. Wake me if anything happens." I turn, without looking at anyone and walk to Blake's bedroom.
Shannon's voice travels up the stairs and I stop. "Blake, what happened?"
"I fucked up," he says.
My heart clenches at the pain in his voice.
"Well, go fix it. What the hell are you standing here for?"
"I don't think I can fix this one any time soon. She's pissed."
"You'll never know if you don't try. You love her. Go fix it."
I shake my head and walk into Blake's bedroom. Moving into the closet, I pull off my jacket and throw it on the floor. I strip out of my weapons and the rest of my clothes, throwing on a t-shirt. Blake is leaning up against the bedroom door, a tumbler in his hand.
He smirks. "Yeah. Teresa's cure all." He brings it to his lips and downs it.
"I think you've had enough to drink tonight."
"Trust me, the previous drinks wore off the moment you shot a guy in the head less than five feet from me." His eyes burn with pain and something else, his words clipped.
"What are you mad about?"
"You want the list?" He walks across the room and sets the glass on his dresser before taking off his jacket and shirt. I stare at the floor. Blake's bare chest is distracting.
"How long is the list?"
"It's decent," he snaps.
His eyes seem to flash, tightening at the edges, and a gleam of primal anger flitting through his irises as his pupils dilate.
"What do you even have to be pissed about? Seriously?" I put my hands on my hips, my own anger rising with the acceleration of my pulse.
"A woman I've known half my life took money to help kill me. I almost got shot. You made me take a date to that function when you could've just let me go alone. Oh and to top it all off, I’ve wanted to fuck you since I got up this morning and you make sure you stay out of arm's reach," he rattles off.
"That's a pretty decent list, Mr. Mason. I'm only staying at arm's length to protect you. So I can focus, which I failed at . . . miserably. For the record, I've wanted to fuck you all day too."
Everything south of my belly button alights and I clench and release my hands. Blake's eyes shift and smolder. It doesn't help I'm not wearing anything under my shirt. His gaze travels down my body and back to my eyes.