Cash (Sexy Bastard #2) by Eve Jagger

she has to deal with mom and dad.
    “Just take me home.” She
pulls her knees up to her chest and lays her head on top. There is no
way I’m surrendering her to my parents’ care.
    “Hey,” I say, tousling her
hair like I did when she was a kid. She bats at my hand, but for a
split second I get a smile. I think there’s hope to finding the
sister from my childhood.
    “You sure you have time?”
Her voice says it all. Mom and Dad never had time for us as kids. It
was always nannies and tutors. Them taking time for us was scheduled
and perpetually canceled due to rounds of golf or luncheons.
    “Of course I do,” I say,
“Pick your poison.”
    “Tacos,”
she mutters.
    We stop at a drive through and grab
food. I order a bunch of tacos and several bottles of water. There
probably aren’t enough carbs to soak up the alcohol, but
getting something in her will help. Once she’s at least
semi-coherent, we’re going to have a talk, because I already
know that no one else will be straight with her. Someone needs to
give her the lecture of a century. If I hadn’t shown up when I
did, what would have happened?
    We sit on the hood of my car, eating
tacos and watching the people pass by us on the street. Many stare,
because who sits on the hood of a BMW eating tacos? Go on and take a
good look, people, because this bartender and his sister do.
    Tasha doesn’t
say much, just sits and eats her food. In the years since I saw my
sister, she’s grown into her looks. She is a beautiful girl,
and that is a lethal combination when mixing too much booze and too
many frat guys. If she is anything like my mother, she knows how to
use those looks to her advantage. But as I watch her, there is a
sadness to her that I can’t help but feel that I contributed
to.
    When all the stuff went down with our
folks, Tasha was just a young teenager and didn’t understand
what was going on. Could she still go on her trips? What about
shopping? It had been Tasha, Tasha, Tasha all the time. It would have
taken the apocalypse to get her to call me for help.
    But the girl before me isn’t the
girl I left behind, and it’s my fault I didn’t get to see
who she became. All I can see, however, is that boy at the party and
every horrible, despicable thing imaginable runs through my head. I
will never rag on Jackson for getting on Shelby’s case again.
In a span of an hour, I have come to learn that little sisters can
tear your heart out.
    She’s halfway into her second
taco when I lose the battle in my head. The older, overly protective
brother breaks out in me. I just can’t not say something to her
about going to that party.
    “Can I ask you a question?”
    “Don’t
worry, I’ll pay you back for the tacos.” She
crumples up her wrapper and grabs another one out of the bag.
    “Don’t
worry, I’m not that hard up for cash.”
    “Not with your trust fund.”
I decide to let that one go, because what I do with my funds is my
business and I don’t owe her an explanation. Plus, would she
even really understand why I do what I do?
    “Tasha, what made you want to go
to that party?” I try to keep my voice calm, but it slides
toward anger. I’m not angry at her, I’m just angry that
she put herself in that situation.
    Crunch. Crunch.
Crunch. Tasha doesn’t say anything. Just another bite of
her taco, and a sip of water. Even if I take her home, no one’s
going to talk to her about this. How can they, when they’re
probably gone half the time anyway?
    I’m not a pro at trying to get
information out of her, but I know from watching Jackson try and
lecture Shelby that it’s just a matter of finding the right
button to push. Keep digging, and eventually even the most relaxed
person will let out their secrets.
    “I mean, look, I get it, frat
parties are a rite of passage, but don’t go to them alone. What
would have happened if you hadn’t called me?”
    Still no answer, but the anger in her
eyes tells me I’m about to hit the right