Her Rogue Alpha (X-Ops Book 5) by Paige Tyler

Author:Paige Tyler [Tyler, Paige]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sourcebooks
Published: 2016-09-05T21:00:00+00:00

Chapter 9

Dreya downed her second shot of tequila since commandeering a stool in the mostly deserted bar in the heart of Foggy Bottom. She wasn’t surprised it was so empty. It might be a weekend, but it was also after three in the morning. Technically, the place was supposed to be closed, but there were still a few diehard partiers hanging around, and the guy who ran the place—Kincaid—certainly wasn’t going to kick anyone out. Not while he was still making money. At least until the cops showed up and made him.

That was okay with her. She certainly wasn’t going anywhere. Why go home when she knew there was no way in hell she’d be able to sleep? Hell, after what had happened tonight, she might never sleep again.

She’d gotten a call four hours ago from Stacy Ellerby, Rory’s assistant at the jewelry shop, saying Rory had been murdered. Worse, according to someone Stacy knew in the police department, it appeared that Rory had been tortured before he’d been killed.

Dreya had refused to believe Rory was dead, even going so far as jumping on her motorcycle and riding over to the jewelry store, then his apartment. Rory hadn’t been at either place, but the cops had. Lots and lots of cops. She’d sped away with tears in her eyes only to pull over and stop barely a mile down the road. Then she’d just sat there on her bike and lost it.

She couldn’t remember ever having cried that hard. But then again, she’d never lost anyone like Rory. He wasn’t just a friend. He was her confidante, her mentor, the only person who really knew her and accepted her. There wasn’t anyone else like him in the world, and now he was gone.

When she’d gotten it together enough not to be a danger on the road, she’d cranked up her bike and driven around town for a long time before she’d finally ended up stopping at the bar where she and Rory had always gone—the same trendy little place where Rory had told her about Thorn and that damn diamond of his. It seemed somehow fitting—and tragic—to come here.

“Thorn killed him, you know,” Kincaid said from the other side of the bar as he fixed her another drink. Big and barrel-chested with graying hair pulled back in a ponytail, he had tattoos on his forearms that would have made Popeye jealous. “Or at least had someone do it for him. The word is all over the streets. Thorn has his people out looking for that big-ass diamond of his, and he’s willing to kill to get it back.”

Mouth tight, Kincaid slid her a shot. Tequila, in honor of Rory. It was the third one tonight.

Dreya knew she shouldn’t be drinking at a time like this—not that alcohol had ever affected her. But she didn’t know what else to do. Without Rory around to serve as her anchor and her compass, she felt as if she was floating away, like a balloon without a string in a windstorm.

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