Free If You Know Her: A Novel of Romantic Suspense by Shiloh Walker Page B

needed her night, needed to enjoy it. So she shoved those questions aside and decided it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but now. Having a few beers, having some hot wings, and enjoying talking about nothing in particular with a hot guy who seemed to enjoy looking at her.
    As the evening wore on, people came in and out of the Grill.
    At some point, they moved from the bar to a booth.
    Finally she found herself alone in there, just Law, the bartender, and her, and she realized the time had slipped away without her even noticing. That hadn’t happened in … months.
    “Where did you go?”
    She glanced up, looked into Law’s intense hazel eyes, found herself caught up in them. Then she looked away. “What do you mean?”
    “You went away,” he said.
    Frowning, she started to count the bottles in front of them. Eight beers. They’d put away eight beers, and she suspected she’d probably drunk half of them.
    As she spun around to put her feet on the floor, the room tipped around her. “I didn’t go anywhere,” she said, taking great care not to slur her words. “I’ve been right here.”
    “Yeah. You’re right here, all right,” Law said.
    She thought she might have heard laughter in his voice. Shooting him a dark look, she snapped, “I’m not drunk.”
    He lifted his hands. “I didn’t say you were.”
    “Want me to take her home, Reilly?”
    She shot the bartender a dirty look. “Like I’d let you.”
    Big, bushy brows rose over his eyes.
    Law lifted a hand. “I’ll take care of her, Leon.”
    Nia snorted. “Yeah. Right.” She reached into her pocket, digging out her keys. In the back of her mind, an alarm started to sound—images flashed, but they were too vague, too blurred, making no sense. Clumsy, fat fingers closed around the keys and she jerked them out. “I’m going to my hotel,” she announced, flashing her keys at Law.
    “Uh-huh.”
    Two seconds later, her hands were empty.
    She wiggled her fingers, looking for the keys.
    They weren’t there. Frowning, she checked her pocket again, then the floor. Where had they gone?
    They jangled and she looked up, scowled when she realized Law had them.
    “Come on, gorgeous. I’ll get you back to the hotel. You can thank me in the morning when that bike of yours is still in one piece … and you are, too.” Law slid an arm around her waist.
    She started to jerk away from him. “I don’t let anybody touch my bike.” But even as she started to pull away, she relaxed against him, wondering why she would want to pull away. He smelled … wonderful. Like … well, a guy. Warm, sexy, like soap, grass, and beer. Something else, too … hmmm, books, she thought. He kind of smelled like books. She liked it. A lot.
    Turning her face into his neck, she breathed him in. “Hmmm. You can’t touch my bike,” she said. “But maybe you can touch me.”
    Law grimaced as she slid a hand under his shirt. Her fingers were cool, sleek, and wicked against him, tracing along his skin with no hesitation and all sorts of determination.
    If he lived through the night, he deserved a nomination for sainthood.
    Maybe he should have told Leon to call it quits before she’d ordered that fourth round. But right up until she’d gone to slip out of the booth, she’d been steady as rain. Barely even a glint in her eyes to betray that she was anything beyond sober.
    But then she slid off the seat and although she wasn’t slurring her words, wasn’t tripping over her feet, it was pretty clear she wasn’t sober. There was also the fact that she had her hand under his shirt, sliding over his belly like she was petting a cat.
    Damn—he wouldn’t mind being a cat, for her.
    Aw, fuck … now she was toying with his belt buckle. It was his turn to stumble a little as he led her over to the door. Yeah, not entirely sober, there, and damned if he wasn’t going to suffer for it.
    “I like the way you smell,” she muttered. She tipped back her head to stare at