Chasing the Tide

Chapter Sixteen: Cotton’s Trap

The neon lights of the dive bar flickered against the dark sky as Cotton leaned against the wall outside, his fingers drumming against his whiskey glass. The place smelled of cigarette smoke and cheap beer, filled with locals looking to drink away their problems. But Cotton wasn’t here for that. He was here for Noah.

Through the haze of the dimly lit bar, he spotted his target—Noah sat in the corner booth, a half-empty bottle of whiskey in front of him, his shoulders slouched as he nursed another drink. He looked exactly how Cotton wanted him to: wasted, vulnerable, and ripe for manipulation.

Noah’s military buddies surrounded him, rowdy and full of energy, tossing back shots and egging him on. “Come on, Marine! You can’t go soft on us now!” one of them hollered, slamming another round of tequila onto the table.

Noah chuckled, his normally sharp blue eyes glazed over from the alcohol, his resistance weakening. “One more,” he mumbled, reaching for the glass. His friends erupted into cheers, slamming their fists on the table as he knocked it back.

Cotton smirked. All he had to do now was set the trap.

Sliding a crisp hundred-dollar bill across the bar, he motioned for the bartender to send a drink to a waiting girl—a brunette in tight jeans and a low-cut top, the kind of girl who knew how to play her part. Cotton leaned in and whispered his request. She smirked, tucking the bill into her pocket before sauntering over to Noah’s booth.

Cotton watched as she slid into the seat beside Noah, her hands casually tracing the rim of her glass as she leaned in, whispering something against his ear. Noah barely reacted at first, but Cotton saw the moment the alcohol did its work—Noah blinked sluggishly, a slow, lazy grin pulling at his lips.

Perfect.

Cotton checked his watch and gave it ten more minutes. That was all he needed.

Then, discreetly, he pulled out his phone and snapped a few pictures.

Noah’s arm draped over the girl’s shoulders. Her lips near his neck. His dazed, alcohol-clouded expression.

Oh, this would destroy Lila.

Cotton slipped out of the bar before Noah even realized he was there. He had what he needed. And soon, Lila would, too.

Because if he couldn’t have her, Noah sure as hell wouldn’t either.