Free Infamous by Nicole Camden Page A

making her wet, and the truth was, she didn’t want to think about her father’s call or Mary’s startled reaction to learning the truth about Lille’s past. Talking with Mary had felt almost liberating. She’d always wanted to tell her best friend, always thought she should know. She hadn’t told her before because it hadn’t been necessary. She was Lille, and talking about the past always made her feel restless and ashamed.
    Lille tapped on the steering wheel and tried to shake off her sudden melancholy. She imagined the look on Max’s face when he saw her and her mood immediately lifted.
    She hummed a little under her breath. She thought that the private investigator she’d called would probably turn up the same information as she already had. She’d sent him an e-mail this afternoon, along with a bank transfer for five thousand dollars, which took a fairly big bite out of her savings. This job needed to work out; if the store kicked ass, she kicked ass. But if she needed to leave suddenly, she wouldn’t be traveling in style.
    She pulled into the parking lot of Jobman’s Pub quickly enough that some of the gravel in the parking lot spewed from beneath her tires, then parked in one of the empty spaces next to the rope fence that separated the lot from the back patio. She thought she saw someone through the French doors on the stage, but she wasn’t able to make out who it was. There were a few other cars, older makes and models, but there was also a black Porsche Boxster and a purple Chevy Impala with expensive rims and a white leather interior.
    She tilted the mirror to check her lipstick and met the black eye of the camera—she was starting to hate that thing. She stuck out her tongue at it. Jordan laughed, then glanced at Kim with mock longing . . . only Lille didn’t think it was, in fact, mock longing. She blew him a kiss, too.
    â€œAre we ready, friends?”
    â€œI’m starving,” Carl chimed in, “but ready.”
    â€œWe’ll eat inside,” Jordan suggested. “It’s shepherd’s pie night.”
    â€œOkay”—Lille threw up her hands—“you’re all ruining my seduction routine here.”
    â€œSeduction routine.” Carl pursed his lips. “That’s an interesting choice of words.”
    â€œYou know what I mean.” Lille tilted her head and gave him a haughty look.
    He opened the door, pulling the seat forward to let Jordan out. Kim followed him out backward, her camera still pointed at Lille, who put on her best catwalk as she led her little crew through the parking lot to the front of the pub.
    â€œSo, when do I get my kiss?” she heard Jordan ask Kim, and then she heard what sounded like someone getting punched in the stomach.
    Lille winced and pulled open the heavy wooden door to the pub. Jordan certainly knew how to pick his crushes, she thought with a sniff, feeling slightly superior since she’d never had a crush in her life, even on Paul. She’d just appreciated that he was normal and unsurprising.
    Music rolled across them like fog as they stepped inside and walked through the entryway into the bar. Someone was singing a Mumford & Sons song—“Hopeless Wanderer”—in a smooth angry baritone that had the hairs standing up on Lille’s arms.
    Charlie and the boys were sitting at the bar as if they’d been planted there. They saw her and waved, but they didn’t cheer; they were facing the stage, listening and watching as someone performed. The bartender, whom Lille had never met, nodded at them as they came in.
    Lille had a feeling, even as she took those last few steps that would carry her into the open area of the pub, that she would regret her decision to come to the pub tonight. She knew it as she came to the end of the long wood-paneled wall; she knew it as she turned her head to the left, toward the stage, where Max was