Chapter 3

He mentally shook the thought out of his head and aimed for his desk as soon as they were inside. Margo had been talking nonstop about what he had missed, but he had completely zoned out on her and hadn’t heard a thing. He felt irritated at himself suddenly.

Shit. When did he ever do that? What the fuck was he doing? Oh yeah, staring at some chick’s fucking hair and having an internal debate on it. Get a grip, Carrero. This hangover is messing with your head.

Arrick slumped into the low couch under the naked lesbian painting by Hunter’s cousin. He wasn’t that enamored with it, but the fifty grand he’d paid to give the guy a helping hand meant he had to hang it somewhere. He sure as hell didn’t want it at home, and no one ventured in here much except Margo and now this new girl. The New York skyline was getting an unobstructed view of tits and ass, anyway.

His phone vibrated in his inner jacket pocket, and he pulled it out, still practically ignoring Margo as she re