I, Spencer Murray, fabulous queen of the North, East, South, and West, smart ass extraordinaire, and the twinkiest twink to ever twink...was bored out of my cotton picking mind.
I'd agreed to come out with some friends and spend the night drinking and dancing simply because I was bored, but actually being here was not helping. This was a great club as clubs went, but once you've been to pretty much every club from the west coast to the east coast, they started to lose their appeal.
The clubs in Utah?
No, just no.
I took a big gulp of my drink. I don't remember quite what it was called, but it tasted good. It was blue and pieces of pineapple and cherries floated around in the ice. It had a drink umbrella stabbed into a piece of pineapple.
I was drinking it with a pretty pink bendy straw. Was there any other way to drink something like this?
This was my third blue fruity drink.
I sighed as I pulled out my phone and started skimming through my social media. I answered a few posts, liked or disliked a few others. Considering this was a Saturday night in the town that never sleeps, it seemed as if a lot of people were sleeping.
There was nothing going on.
I slid my phone back into my pocket as I wondered if it was time to move on to a new city. I hadn't been down south in awhile. Maybe Charleston or Atlanta?
I glanced up to see if I could spot any of my friends. I didn't, but I saw someone much more interesting, and much more stunning. The aura of danger that seemed to linger around him as he strode across the floor as if he owned the place only made him sexier in my book.
Yes, I knew it was weird.
So what?
In truth, Angus King was the only reason I was still in New York. I had been hoping he would call every day of the last two weeks. I wasn't deterred because he hadn't. The man was a mob boss. I am sure he was busy.
He still should have called. I hadn't been subtle with my flirting. Maybe the man needed to be hit upside the head by a clue-by-four.
I watched King and another man walk toward a small sitting area overlooking the dance floor below. I recognized the other man from when they had interrogated me, but I don't remember if he gave me a name or not. I didn't really care. I wasn't interested in him. King was much sexier in my book.
I watched as they spoke for a moment and then the other guy headed back downstairs. He was probably headed to the bar to get them each a drink. The wait staff was pretty non-existent in this place. If you wanted a drink, you pretty much had to track it down yourself.
I smirked as I climbed to my feet. I tossed back the remainder of my drink, set the glass down on the low coffee table, and then started for my target.
Maybe it was time for another flirting session. Surely if he was in a bar like this he was looking for a good time. I had no doubt that I could give him one.
No, I was not a slut. Not really. Yes, I had slept with my fair share of men—and a few women—but it was my body, my choice. I never made any promises I couldn't keep, I made sure those that I slept with knew the score, and I always used protection.
That being said, I knew my way around the male body. You might call it a passion of mine. Tall, short, fat, skinny... every male was beautiful in some way. You just had to look for it.
It was just too bad that more than a few of them came with asshole brains. I always figured if half the male population just stood there with their mouths firmly shut, there would be a lot less pain and loss in this world.
Men were stupid, but women weren't much better. I had a few close friends, and one very protective aunt, that proved to me that the female race could be saved despite the numerous psychotic bitches from hell that I had encountered in my lifetime.
Before I could take more than two steps, a woman in a red sequined dress walked past my line of vision, heading in King's direction. Normally, I wouldn't have noticed as I really was more into men than I was women, but this bitch had a knife clasped in her hand.
I think it was more the way she was holding the knife that felt peculiar to me. It wasn't out in front of her. Instead, she held the handle tightly in her hand with the blade along her arm.
I took a few more steps, following her. She was walking slowly, so it wasn't hard. I didn't think it was the five inch high heels either. She was trying to be stealthy. With as loud as the music was playing, she just might achieve that.
One problem. She had her sights set on the guy I hoped to get into bed tonight. I'd be damned if I let some vapid bitch with a dagger ruin my plans.
