Not that it matters. This is just where we hang out and relax, not do business. To be honest, I still don’t feel like I fit in here. Not unless Needles is with me, or Nikolai.
I may be under the boss’s thumb, but I don’t like associating with most of these pricks. I look to my right. Like Jackson. I could do without this asshole. Still, it’s nice to get a drink. And in this town, this is the place to go to unwind.
Plus it’s expected of me. If I didn’t show up… well, that’s not a good look.
This sweet little thing obviously doesn’t know shit. And it doesn’t look like her friend does either. I want it to be true 'cause that makes it all the more challenging, and it means she doesn’t already have an opinion of who I am and what I do.
Blondie twists in her seat to reach down from her spot on the stool. The sight of her bending over to pick up her clutch makes my dick jump in my pants. Her long blonde hair sways gently as she sits upright and finally relaxes a bit.
I catch her peeking up at me through her thick lashes, but I keep my gaze focused on the TV at the back of the bar. I watch from the corner of my eyes as she takes a sip of her drink and a small smile slips into place. She sets the glass down carefully on the napkin and takes another covert look around.
The guys have eyes on her even though she doesn’t know it. Plenty of cops have come in here. We don’t do business here for that reason. It’d be fucking stupid to.
It’s obvious to me she’s not undercover, but the easiest way to tell if a woman is a cop is to try to fuck 'em. Jackson gets up from his seat next to me and licks his lips. His eyes are steady on the two of them.
That’s not gonna fucking happen. Not her, and not her friend. He’d blow this for me for sure.
I strong-arm him, stopping him from getting all the way up and his ass falls back onto the stool. A few people look up interestedly, including Blondie, but I don’t give a fuck. I shake my head with a grin, and the fucker actually pouts like I just took away his puppy.
She’s mine, and he’s not ruining this for me.
He looks me in the eyes and grudgingly gives in. “Fine, she’s all yours.”
I may not be high in the ranks. Shit they may not even think I really belong here, but I can sure as fuck call dibs on whoever I want. Simply because I’m a tough motherfucker, and everyone in here knows I could take them if I wanted. Shit, Vlad wanted me as a muscle man in the mob. Took a lot of guts for me to tell him it wasn’t going to happen. I wanted my shop and my art more than anything else. I thought it was going to be a showdown. Thank fuck for Nikolai.
Either way, I’m all hard muscle and every fucker in here knows not to mess with me. A few had to learn the hard way. A few others picked fights with me just to see if they’d win. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a bit cocky about going undefeated. Either way, Jackson has a reputation for fucking. Mine is for fighting.
If I want something, I’m gonna get it and no one’s stupid enough to get in my way. Of course if it was Vlad or Nikolai, it’d be a different story. The boss and the underboss are two people I don’t fuck with.
But they aren’t here tonight, and no one’s gonna stop me from pulling that dress up and feasting on that delicious pussy I know is between those thick thighs.
I down my beer and get up, ready to find out how sweet and innocent Blondie really is.
Chapter 3
Madeline
Trouble.
That’s the only word I can think of when I lay eyes on the stranger dressed all in black. Tall, dark-haired and incredibly handsome, the dude literally takes my breath away. At the other end of the bar with one other guy and throwing back shots of what I think is whiskey, he’s sitting there, staring at me with an intensity that makes me shiver all the way from across the room.
I can’t get over how handsome this guy is, tattoos and all. Seriously, I’m not one for tattoos, but this guy is so sexy that his ink only adds to his appeal.
I stare back, challenging him to look away. He doesn’t, and I’m almost spellbound by the way he continues to look at me. His gaze is so intense that I swear that my ovaries are doing the hokey-pokey.
But why is he staring at just me?
I know I’m not ugly, but there’s a sea of beautiful women on the dance floor who are probably more than willing go home with this guy and ride him like a mechanical bull.
Who says he’s looking at me because he wants to take me home and have sex? I wonder, even though I know that’s what most men in the club are here for. He might just think I look good.
I’m comforted by the thought and feel a surge of confidence at being admired, but the look in the handsome man’s eyes says otherwise. It seems to say, ‘You’re mine, and there’s nothing you can do about it.’
I’m suddenly irritated. This is a guy, I feel, who’s used to getting his way with women.
Well, he won’t have his way with me, I vow. I don’t care how hot he is.
I’m about to turn my nose up, you know, to give him the proverbial snub, when the guy sitting next to him jumps up. I hadn't noticed him until this moment, but he's a hot piece of ass himself, and I wouldn't mind it if he came over to say hi. But oh no, Mr. Sexier's ass isn’t having it. He jumps up right after him and practically strong-arms the poor guy back down into his seat. The two exchange words before Mr. Sexier turns his intense gaze back on me. My heart thumps in my chest.
Oh no he didn’t.
“Holy shit!” Katie exclaims over the heavy thumping bass of the music and gawks. Just a second ago she'd been laughing with some annoying douche who’d bought her a drink, but apparently she has her eyes on the two of them, too. “Did you just see that? Dude just made that guy sit down like he was in time out.”
My mouth open and suddenly dry, I’m unable to respond because Mr. Sexier begins moving through the sea of undulating bodies toward our end of the bar. Even the way he moves is sexy, gliding forward with incredible swagger.
“I gotta go,” I squeak suddenly, ready to make a run for it. There’s no way I'm sticking around to be accosted by Satan himself.
“Oh no you don’t, missy,” Katie growls, clamping an arm down on my wrist and holding me in place. “You’re going to sit right here until Mr. Tall Bottle of Champagne gets to meet you.”
“Let me go,” I hiss, watching the man, who's almost halfway to us. I can’t believe Katie is doing this to me. I’m totally petrified. “I don’t wanna talk to that guy.”
Katie scowls at me in disbelief. “You’re crazy. Do you see how hot he is?” She stares right at him, and I wanna hide. She’s making it so obvious!
“That’s the very reason I’m trying to get away. Now let go!” I try to pry her fingers off, but Katie is a stubborn bitch.
“No,” Katie refuses. “You’re going to give this guy a chance. Live a little.”
Bitch.
I tug sharply, trying to disengage from Katie’s grip and run for safety, but she suddenly appears to have the super strength of Wonder Woman and I’m kept in place. I’m about to summon everything I've got to shove Katie off her barstool, but too late. Trouble has arrived.