Free Queen In Play (The Manhattan Tales Book 2) by Willa Thorne

The place was cramped, and smelled musty- like old wood and bad beer. Tacky lights were hanging along the walls like a damned holiday display. I looked around long enough to see that Jillian was not in the front room.  She was not at the bar.  I looked around, thankful that I was tall enough to see over most heads.
    My pulse was thrumming in my head. A mixture of emotions flooding me at the realization that the bastard might have taken her back to his place.
    In those few seconds, I vowed to myself that if I did find her before it was too late- I’d be brutally honest with her.  I had to make her give me one more chance.
    Imagine the sensation of relief that washed over me when I overheard Jillian’s laugh coming from the billiards room.  I let out a breath, realizing I’d been holding it in. I veered a sharp right toward the direction of the game hall.  I charged, nearly knocking people over as they stepped in my way.  Yet, I stopped dead in my tracks when I witnessed that wanker with his hands all over my Jillian.  My whole body trembled.
    He stood there, positioned over her at the edge of the pool table.  He was using such an amateur method of seduction as he tried to school her in the rules of the game.  Jillian was sandwiched in between the game table and that schmuck’s groin.
    She bit her lower lip as he positioned her hands around the cue.  He was whispering in her ear, tactfully positioning himself in such a way that caused her to visibly flush.  He guided her arms as she knocked the ball, three into separate holes.  I stopped paying attention.
    “I got it!”  Jill beamed and turned to face Ian. He had that arrogant smirk on his face.  He grabbed a shot of whiskey off a nearby wooden table and knocked it back, before offering a shot to Jillian.  She shook her head, refusing.
    “You’re no fun,” Ian continued his smirk as he knocked that shot back as well.
    My brow furrowed.  She was absolutely not his type. 
    And you are?   I rebuked myself internally.
    I readied myself to storm in there and talk some sense into Jillian.  I took one step… and then stopped myself.
    What the fuck am I doing?   I swallowed hard, feeling my pulse hammer in my throat. 
    Jillian’s laughter escaped her again, from a distance, as she watched Ian take aim with the cue.  I couldn’t bring myself to crash their date.  It would be obnoxious, and push her away further.  I could only hope that she’d know what was best for herself and go straight home after this date.
    Mustering every ounce of willpower I owned, I turned away from the scene and left the bar.  I had one last resort, and she was sitting in her apartment with a carton of take-out, in front of the television.
     
    ****
     
    “Have you ever asked her how she’s feeling?”  Piper asked.
    I had no words immediately.  We were sitting on the plush white sofa in her main room, with some television sitcom on as background noise.
    There was no judgement in Piper’s voice, but she asked this question to trigger my thinking.
    The fuck?
    Piper adjusted her frames and repeated the question.  “When you see her, do you actually ask her how she is feeling?”
    I already knew how Jillian was feeling.  Piper had given me updates on a weekly basis as I requested.
    “I don’t see how that solves the immediate problem.” I responded smoothly.  I knew my tone was as impatient as I felt.  I could not stop thinking about Jillian possibly going home with that man.
    “That, my cousin, is exactly part of your problem.”
    My jaw tensed grimly. 
    “Evaluate your actions around Jillian, and develop a plan based on what needs to be changed.”  She piqued a thin eyebrow in my direction.
    I need a drink.
    “So, have you ever asked her how she is feeling?”
    “No.” My answer was begrudging.
    “Perhaps you should.”
    Now I see where this is going..
    My cousin cast me a wry smirk, something she never used with other clients.
    “Drop the ‘ Me Tarzan,