“We can’t leave now,” Vin murmured as he gave the woman a hundred and told her to keep the change.

“But I want to go home.” Devina crossed her arms over her chest and pegged him right in the eye with the demand. “Now.”

“Come on, Devina. Enjoy your drink—”

Before he could tell her there’d be plenty of privacy as soon as they got back to the duplex, Devina cut him off with, “Maybe I’ll just go buy that red head for myself then, since you’re not going to take care of me.”

Right, okay. Wrong thing to say. Absolutely wrong button to hit.

Easing to the side, Vin took the keys to the M6 out of his pocket. “Do you want me to walk you to the car? Or do you need cash for the prostitute?”

Devina’s eyes flashed black in the silence that erupted between them. But she should have known not to play hardball with him.

After a moment, she snatched the key out of his hand. “Oh, I wouldn’t dream of troubling you. Jim will walk me out. That way you can stay and enjoy the view some more.”

With a small nod, Vin glanced at the other man. “Jim, would you mind doing the honors?”

The guy slowly lowered his beer. “Look, if she wants to go—”

“Then she’s free to. And she wants you to escort her to the car.”

The poor bastard looked as if he’d rather have his fingers filed into stubs than get in the middle of things, and Vin didn’t blame him.

Uncrossing his legs, Vin stood up. “Ah, hell, man, you just relax here and I’ll—”

Devina shot to her feet. “Jim, please take me to his car. Now.”

Vin shook his head. “No, I’m going to—”

“The hell you are,” Devina snapped. “I don’t want you taking me anywhere.”

“It’s cool,” Jim muttered. “I’ll do it.”

The man got up, but he left his leather jacket, as if he were not expecting to be gone long. “I’m just taking her to the car. We clear on that?”

“Thanks, man.” Vin sat down again and swallowed his Patrón on a oner. “I’ll be here waiting.”

Jim indicated the way to the door, and Devina walked off, her chin up and her shoulders back, her fur in her arms.

As Vin watched them go, it was times like this that made him question the ring thing. He’d done nothing to encourage the prostitute—he hadn’t even looked at her.

But you had been staring at someone, an inner voice pointed out.

Vin resumed scanning the crowd, all of whom seemed to have black clothes and dark hair. Damn it…why did she have to be in a club like this, where everyone was a brunette?