Beg For Mercy

Chapter 4: Lyra & Wren

LYRA

We arrive back at the booth with Marcus in tow, balancing a tray of tequila shots in one hand. With our make-believe backstory locked and loaded, there's no way we'll be drinking many of those shots during this childish drinking game.

"We come bearing more gifts, gentlemen," I say, announcing our arrival.

When we gave Marco the low-down on our evening so far, his amber eyes had widened with excitement. He was so pumped about us snagging these two dreamboats that he comped the entire tray of tequila shots. I guess there are perks to becoming friends with the owner and bartender of this place.

Marco grins wickedly at us as he places the tequila shots beside the nearly empty bottle of scotch. "Have fun sweeties," he purrs, turning to sashay his way back to the bar, no doubt to watch how this all unfolds.

We aren't even fully sitting down before Tyler claps his hands, rubbing them together with anticipation.

"Come on, mate, how old are you?" Wren shakes his head, covering his face in embarrassment. "Fucking feel like I'm in high school all over again."

"Reminds me of her." I fight a smile and point at Lex. "They're like two peas in a pod already. So cute."

Lex tosses a lime at me, sticking her tongue out like a child. "Take a look in the mirror. You two are more alike than you care to admit."

I scowl at her. What a traitor. "I hate you."

"You love me. Quit lying to yourself." Lex shoots back.

We spend the next few minutes entertaining the table with our banter, setting the light-hearted mood for Tyler's stupid game to begin.

"Alright, alright." Tyler holds up his hands, interjecting our bickering. "I'll start you easy with the first question by asking how old you two are. And no lying!"

I fake an exaggerated yawn as Lex shouts, "borrrrring." Our dramatic response draws deep laughs from both men, and I can't help but if Tyler's laugh gives Lex full body shivers like Wren's does to me.

My God! What is wrong with me? I'm a grown-ass woman, so why the hell am I acting like a little girl with a crush? My thoughts go haywire, fried by my inability to rein in my attraction to this sexy, arrogant man beside me.

"I'm thirty-one," Lex answers, pulling me back to reality.

"Thirty-two," I say, raising my hand with a cringe. Saying that number out loud makes me feel old as fuck. Too old to be playing juvenile drinking games.

"Just a run o'the mill pair of cougars, aye?" Tyler's accent thickens. It's clear whatever booze he's had tonight is kicking in.

"Pfft. You can't be much younger than us!" I scoff.

His expression is serious when he says, "Aye, lass. I'm twenty-seven, and this big brute beside you is just a wee one, at twenty-six." He nods his head toward Wren, whose expression stays neutral.

Bullshit. While Tyler's boyish charm could pass him off as younger, the intensity behind Wren's eyes—the guarded expression that implies he's seen more bad in life than a younger person should—proves my case.

I narrow my eyes and call his bluff. "No fucking way. Drink."

He laughs loudly. "Now, now, don't be hasty. Drinks are only for the cowards and the liars in this game."

I look at Wren, studying him for any sign I'm wrong about this. His neutral face doesn't falter, but a small twitch plays at the corner of his delectable mouth. I'm a goddamn badass lawyer. I was born to pick up on the subtleties, and that twitch was enough proof for me.