“I’ll do better than that,” Dennis said. “I’ll follow her, see she makes it to the door of the Snake Pit.” He smiled at Declan’s look. “Acoustics, friend. I can hear everything at this bar.”
Sailor watched Declan leave with mixed feelings. On the one hand, she’d been both unprofessional and immature, and she desperately wished she could rewind the conversation. On the other hand, no matter how gracelessly, she’d achieved her goal: he had agreed to talk to her about the murders, and Declan Wainwright was a major resource. The challenge now would be to extract from him everything he knew, not just the stuff he would tell anyone. And to get him to share his connections, which were vast.
Okay, the real challenge would be to retain some self-possession in his presence and not act like a kid with a crush.
Fortunately Sailor loved a challenge.
The only thing she couldn’t figure out was why Declan Wainwright cared that she’d ingested some homeopathic twigs and leaves.
And how she was going to survive hanging in the city’s hottest after-hours club dressed in her waitress uniform.
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