CHAPTER 21
DAWSON
Dawson blocked out the sounds of the girl moaning behind him and knocked back the rest of his Scotch. He’d pay for this tomorrow.
“Another?” the bartender asked.
“Why not?”
Thanks to Brax, his tab at Nyx was larger than his capacity for alcohol.
A middle-aged guy Dawson recognised as a politician helped a thin blonde wearing an ornate blindfold onto the stool beside him and nodded in his direction. Somebody had a new toy. Dawson raised a hand in greeting, but he didn’t want to talk. Not tonight.
Perhaps he should have gone someplace different? A sports bar or a shitty dive where he could pick a fight and get rid of the frustration that had been building inside him for the whole of this week. Tonight had been the final straw, when the pretty boy had put his hands al
