“Wow, Cora,” Suzette called over the blaring music. “You’re doing so much better!” Perched on a bar stool, Suzette raised her margarita glass in tribute. Her red hair was loose around her face, and her laugh was contagious. She jerked a thumb at a girl dressed in a referee shirt. “Last time you almost took out that server’s eye.”
The server made a wide berth around Cora and Liam, hefting a tray of drinks above her head. She hurried toward a group of college guys watching a boxing match on one of the flat-screen TVs. In another corner of the bar, a loud cheer erupted over a baseball game, and a boisterous group of fans gave each other high fives and slaps on the back. The air was thick with a mixture of booze and fried chicken wings and cheap cologne. Rookies was one of those relaxed hangouts where everyone talked a little too loud and drank a little too much. Liam loved it.
“It’s official. I suck at darts,” Cora said in defeat. She placed her last dart in Liam’s hand. “I think it’s safer if I quit now before I maim someone.”
“Don’t give up yet,” Finn said. “You’re making progress.” He was sitting next to Suzette, and he’d been nursing the same beer for the past hour, the lightweight. He looked out of place in his pressed slacks and collared shirt, and for the millionth time, Liam wondered how on earth he was supposed to get Cora to fall in love with someone so painfully dull.
“No, I’m not making progress,” Cora said with a sigh. “But thank you for pretending.”
“I bet you’ll even hit the board next time,” Finn encouraged.
Cora laughed. “I’m afraid that’s a bet you’d lose.”
“He’s not much of a betting man, anyway,” someone said from the doorway. “Are you, Finn?”
They all turned as a tall, broad-shouldered man approached. He wore a leather motorcycle jacket the same dark shade as his hair, and he walked slowly, almost arrogantly, as if he had all the time in the world. There was a day’s worth of stubble on his jaw, and a devil-may-care glint in his eye, and he seemed to know Finn, which Liam found surprising. This man appeared to be Finn’s polar opposite, and therefore, somewhat interesting.
“Magnus,” Finn said. He turned to the group and made introductions, explaining, “This is my colleague Magnus Blackwell. He’s an attorney at Johnston and Knight, too.”
“I’m surprised to see you here, Finn,” Magnus drawled. “Didn’t think this place was your speed.”
“I like it just fine.”
“Really?” Magnus’s polite smile was so genuine that Liam almost missed the skepticism behind it. The only reason he caught it at all was because he, himself, was an expert at subterfuge. Growing up thieving in nineteenth-century Ireland during the potato famine had given Liam plenty of opportunities to practice.
“Then maybe you should come out to the racetrack sometime,” Magnus said to Finn. “Bring your Porsche and put it through its paces, for once.”
Finn shook his head. “Not my thing.”
“No?” Magnus didn’t look surprised. He addressed Liam and the girls with a conspiratorial smile. “I never could understand why some people own fast cars but never bother to let them loose.”
“You race cars?” Liam stared at him with a mixture of admiration and envy. His own car couldn’t win a race against his elderly neighbor Mrs. Gilmore, and she walked with a cane. Why the angels stuck him with such an outdated heap of junk for an automobile, he’d never understand. It was probably some kind of lesson in humility, the bastards.
Magnus sized up Liam. “Sometimes, though not as much as I used to.”
“Wow, racing cars. That sounds so—” Suzette’s voice dipped to a sultry purr “—dangerous.”
Magnus gave a cocky smile. “Not if you know how to handle them. I teach stunt driving at the track once a month. There’s a class this weekend, if any of you want to check it out.”
Cora and Suzette laughed and gave their excuses, but Liam was already making plans to look up the class with his newfound computer skills. He wasn’t going to pass up an opportunity to get behind the wheel of a sports car and just go for it. The thrill of racing in such a powerful machine! Who wouldn’t want to fly like the wind, if they had the chance? Oh, right. Liam flicked a glance at Finn. The world’s biggest bore.
Finn was scrolling through emails on his phone, ignoring Magnus. His expression remained carefully neutral, but Liam had the distinct feeling he was struggling with a negative emotion.
“So...” Magnus slapped his hands, rubbing them together. “Did I walk in on a bet over a game of darts?”
“Oh, no.” Cora waved a hand. “I’m terrible at darts, and Finn was just teasing me.”
“I wasn’t teasing, Cora,” Finn said, looking up from his phone. “I think you were really improving.”
“How about you and me, man?” Magnus jerked his chin at Finn, a challenging glint in his eye. “A friendly game of darts. Say, twenty dollars to the winner?”
“No, thanks.” Finn drank the last of his beer and signaled the bartender for another.
“Come on,” Magnus said. “Darts isn’t even my game, so you’ll probably win. It’ll be fun. What do you say, ladies? Want to see me fail miserably?”
“I do,” Suzette sang out, eyeing Magnus like he was a prime cut of beef. “And if darts isn’t your game, I want to know what is.”
He gave her a slow smile and winked. “Tell you later.”
Suzette’s eyes sparkled with interest, and she gave a fluttery sigh. She was so visibly impressed by the man, Liam wouldn’t have been surprised if she melted into a puddle on the floor.
He almost laughed. Magnus was a smooth talker, but Liam knew a hustler when he saw one. Magnus had all the moves—the charm, the easy smile, the casual wager. In fact, Liam would bet good money Magnus was great at darts and was trying to swindle Finn. Liam was beginning to like the guy, just on principle.
Suzette giggled then whispered something in Cora’s ear. The two of them wandered into the crowd with their heads together, talking about whatever it was women talked about.
“So,” Magnus said, turning to Finn, “you in?”
“No,” Finn said flatly. He appeared cool on the surface, but Liam could tell he was bothered. How marvelous. This night was getting more entertaining by the second.
“I’ll play,” Liam offered with a shrug. “Though darts isn’t really my game, either.” He gave Magnus a vacuous smile. It had been a long time since he’d had a chance to cheat someone out of their money. Though Liam hadn’t grown up playing darts, years of hunting, target practice and other varying games of skill—not to mention the manual dexterity involved in thieving and occasionally running for his life—made darts look like child’s play. This was going to be fun.