Hardass (Bad Bitch)(47)

“Good to see you, Wash.” Lincoln smiled, and there was something almost vulnerable in it, as if he expected Wash to hurt him.

“Yeah.” Wash turned and resumed his seat at the bar. Burn.

Kennedy shrugged. “And this here is Yvonne. And the blonde on the end is Caroline Montreat.” He leaned up and whispered something in Lincoln’s ear.

Lincoln tried to play off whatever information changed hands, but he smiled and shot me a couple of furtive glances.

“Fuck, I need a drink.” The redhead climbed onto the barstool next to me and signaled the bartender with an authoritative wave. I could already tell I liked her.

“Evan, is it?”

“That’s me.” To the bartender she said, “Hey, whose dick do I have to suck to get a drink around here?” Her accent was almost harsh to my ears, definitely not southern. But the way she talked just made me smile like an idiot.

“That would be mine.” Lincoln moved up behind her and handed his credit card to the harried bartender. “Start a tab. Anything she wants.” He kissed her on the top of her head and went back to talking to Kennedy.

She smiled, and not a minute passed before she was sucking down a hurricane through a twizzle straw.

“So, what do you do, Evan?”

“Lawyer. Mostly plaintiff’s work. You?”

“Lawyer. Criminal defense.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? Tried any cases? Give me some details. You got lots of bad guys? Some real dirt? Nasty shit?”

Something about the way she asked made me think of an addict looking for a hit. I shrugged and went with it. “Wash and I have a murder case right now. Heard of the Bayou Butcher?”

She nodded, her smile growing.

“He’s our guy. We’re working the case right now. Wash and me . . .” For some reason, likely named “alcohol,” I let the end trail off as I pondered the implications of “Wash and me.”

She gripped her temples. “Brain freeze, but that shit was worth it.” She’d drained her oversized glass. She glanced over my head and then refocused on me. “He hasn’t taken his eyes off you since I got here. You know that, right?”

“I, um, I guess?” In fact, I did not know that. I took another drink.

She smiled. “Okay, let me help you out. You’re a bad bitch. I can see this already. Us bad bitches have to stick together.”

She kept rubbing her temples, and I leaned closer.

“These Granade boys.” She waved her hand in an arc and almost smacked me. “They are a different breed, okay? They are complicated, smart, sweet, and monsters in the sack. At least that’s been my experience with Lincoln.”

I nodded. “Yes, same.”

“Good. Now, the trick with Lincoln.” She crinkled her nose, as if she were deep in thought. “Actually, the trick with Lincoln was that he never gave up on me.”

She motioned for the bartender. “Another one of those, and get one for my friend here.”

“Thanks.” I’d already had three drinks, but a hurricane didn’t sound half bad. I would go home early and have a snack. Yes. I would have a snack and soak up the alcohol and not have a hangover. Right.

“Where was I? Yes. Perseverance. That’s the key. I’ve worked with Wash. I know what he’s doing with that whole ‘I’m a dick’ persona. I am intimately familiar with how to use said persona. But that’s what it is. A persona. Get to the man underneath and sink your nails in.” She dug her nails into the bar for emphasis. “And don’t let go. Got me?”

“I got you.” I clawed at the air.

We both devolved into laughter and accepted our fresh drinks from the bartender.

“Bottoms up, bitch.” She toasted me.

We drank. And laughed.

And drank.

And then I was in my bed.

And then there was an earsplitting noise. I cracked my eyes open and saw the blur of my ceiling fan. What the? The earsplitting noise was my clock radio playing a soft tune at the lowest volume. I wailed on the poor snooze button.

I closed my eyes and dozed off until the noise began again. Three more times I destroyed the snooze button.

“Hey. Rise and shine, my favorite drunk.” Terrell’s voice cut through my haze. “You have a date with disgusting destiny this morning at the morgue.”

I almost retched right then and there.

“That’s what I thought. Jesus, you still smell like a vodka distillery.”

“What? What happened?”

“You don’t remember Wash and some redhead dropping you off at midnight?” Terrell came into focus, already dressed for work in an impeccable suit and tie.

“No.”

He peeled back my covers. I was wearing a T-shirt and panties.