The Obsession(124)
Music blared out of the sound system, hard-driving rock with screaming guitars Naomi couldn’t identify. She’d never been in the bar in daylight or with the houselights on full. It looked bigger, she realized, especially with the chairs upended on the tables, the booths empty of patrons.
In snug cropped jeans and a black tank that showed off sculpted arms and shoulders, Loo attacked the floor with some sort of mop.
Because he was directly beside her, Naomi heard Xander mutter, “Shit,” before he strode to the bar, behind it, and turned down the music.
Loo snapped straight, hefting the mop like a batand lowered it again when she saw Xander.
“You’ll blow out your eardrums.”
“Rock’s meant to be loud.”
“Why are you down here doing Justin’s job?”
“Because I want it done right for a change. And why aren’t you up on the bluff trying to get into the blonde’s pants?”
“Because I brought her with me.”
Loo turned, caught sight of Naomi, and hissed out a tired breath. Before she could say anything else, Tag decided it was time for introductions and trotted over to her.
“Is this that half-dead dog you found?”
“Yeah.” Xander came from in back of the bar.
“Looks pretty healthy now. You’ve got some blue eyes, don’t you?” She gave him a rub. “Okay, nice of you to drop by, but I’ve got work to finish. I oughta close down for a week, get out the whips and chains, slap some ass, and get the crew to clean top to bottom. If you’re not on them every second, they’ll give these floors a swipe and consider it done.”
By the time she’d finished, her words tumbled together, rushed and breathless, with her arms pumping pistons on the mop.
Xander just stood for a moment, then dragged his hand through his hair. He walked to her, wrestled the mop away from her. Then just wrapped his arms around her.
“I need to finish! Damn it, I need to finish.”
“Come on, Loo.”
She struggled and shoved against him another moment, then gripped the back of his shirt in her fists. “Xander. I’m so scared. Donna. Where is she? What’s happening to her? How can this be happening?”
When she began to weep, he just held on.
Twenty-three
Not sure of her role, Naomi decided to make herself useful. Quietly, she went behind the bar, studied the hot beverage machine. She checked its supplies, opted for coffee because Loo didn’t strike her as the tea sort.
She found mugs, kept herself busy as Loo composed herself.
“I don’t know what to do,” Loo said. “I need something to do.”
“Right now, we’re going to sit down.”
As Xander steered Loo to a booth, Naomi called out, “I’m making coffee.”
Swiping at tears, Loo spun around. “That machine’s complicated,” she began.
“She practically grew up in a restaurant, Loo. Sit down.”
“She breaks it, you bought it,” Loo muttered. “And I’d rather have a whiskey.”
“Irish coffee, then,” Naomi said easily. “Xander?”
“Just a Coke.”
As she sat, Loo snatched napkins from the holder, blew her nose. “They don’t know dick. Sam came around here last night on the off chance she’d decided to stay home, was with me. Nobody knows squat about it, nobody’s seen her, heard from her.”
“I know, Loo.”
The dog worked his way under the table, laid his head in Loo’s lap.
He did have a way.
“She’d been talking about this trip for weeksuntil you wanted to stuff a sock in her mouth. She tried to get me to go, nagged me brainless. I’ve got nothing against a couple days at a spa, but her sister’s a pain in the ass. If I’d said I’d go with her, if I’d been with her . . .”
“That’s bullshit, Loo.”
“It’s not.” Her eyes filled to brimming again. “It’s not! I’d’ve gone over there, picked her up.”
“And maybe you’d be the one no one’s seen or heard from.”
“That’s the bullshit.” After she swiped at the tears, she balled up the napkins. “I can handle myself. Donna . . . She’s just soft. She’s soft.”
Naomi came to the table with a glass mug of Irish coffee, expertly topped with whipped cream, and a glass of Coke.
“I’ll take the dog for a walk, give the two of you some privacy.”
“The dog’s fine right here.” Loo stroked Tag’s ears as she studied Naomi. “And so are you. Sorry about the in-your-pants remark. It was rude.”
“Well, he’s been in them a few times, so not entirely.”