Chapter 11 #3
“Can I get you a drink?” he said, pretending like it was a real question. “Or something else? Maybe a little direction.” His grin widened. “Or does your daddy have that covered for you?”
Something about him had my hackles rising, the fear I’d walked in here with morphing into courage.
“What I would like is to be left alone,” I said, my voice as confident as I could summon.
I crossed my legs and leaned back, acting as if I was comfortable.
“And I definitely don’t want a conversation.
Especially not with you.” I glared at him, my heart pounding and my skin crawling beneath the weight of his stare.
Somewhere behind the bar, Jasmine’s voice lifted in conversation. Oblivious. Or maybe pretending to be. No-one wanted to deal with this prick, and I suppose she’d had years of it.
Snake raised a brow, as if genuinely surprised that I’d knocked him back so fast. “Well . . .” He snagged a strand of my hair and twisted it slowly around his finger.
My stomach turned as I fought the instinct to slap his hand away.
“Pretty sure you don’t get your fire from your father—he’s a gutless wonder.
Must be from your mother’s side. Hope you’re smarter than she was, though. ”
My chest tightened. The words hit harder than I wanted them to, but I forced myself not to flinch.
“What do you know about my mother?” My voice didn’t match the chaos churning inside me.
Did he know exactly why I was there? Was he just dangling the information in front of me just to show he could? Probably. He seemed like that sort of arsehole.
Snake loomed closer, his presence crowding the air itself. I forced each breath to stay steady as he continued to stare at me with that crooked grin. My mind screamed at me to get up and run, to do what I’d spent my life perfecting, but I couldn’t drag myself away from his leering taunt.
He finally dropped his grip on my hair and gave a half-shrug. “Nothing that concerns you, Sadie Cooper. And how is your father? Haven’t seen him for a while. Might be time I stopped by for a visit.” He tilted his head and crossed his ankles, one elbow pressed into the bar as he leaned against it.
I threw a quick glance at Jasmine, hoping for something, anything. Relief. An idea. Backup.
Her gaze snapped to mine, and she was moving before I could suck in another shaky breath. “What can I get you, Snake?” she said, her voice slicing through the tension growing between us, drawing his attention.
He flicked his gaze to her, keeping his body angled towards me.
I caught the flicker of irritation on his face at the interruption.
“You got anything decent stocked?” he said, lips curving into the kind of smile that suggested he’d just let me off the hook, but only for now.
“Got a bottle of scotch with my name on it?”
She placed her hand on her hip, arching a brow. “Seriously? We’ve got whatever you want,” she said, her voice hardening. “ Except decent company.” A small smile crept onto her full red lips as she winked at me.
The look on her face told me she knew exactly what she was doing. It worked. Snake clenched his jaw so hard I thought his teeth might crack.
His lips pulled back, no longer a smile but more like a grimace.
“Just give me a fucking beer,” he said, balling his hands into fists.
He slammed them against the bar. He was holding back the violence simmering inside of him.
Maybe he was biding his time, waiting for me to slip up, and so he had a real reason to unleash it.
“Get Cooper one too,” he added, like I was an afterthought.
“Don’t want her thinking I’m not chivalrous and shit. ”
Jasmine didn’t take the bait, just turned her attention to me. “What would you like, Coop?”
“A beer?” I said, the words coming out more like a question than an actual decision.
I hated how small I sounded. Like I’d forgotten who I was the second he touched me.
She leaned in, a conspiratorial grin twitching at the corners of her mouth. “You sure you don't want something stronger? You might need it when a certain . . . VP shows up.” Her voice dropped low, her words meant for me alone, but Snake stiffened beside me.
It must have grated against his pride. It was typical of men like him.
I opened my mouth to reply, but Snake dropped an arm around my shoulders, heavy and possessive. The leather of his cut was cool against my bare skin, a stark contrast to the heat radiating from his body. His fingers dug into my arm—firm, deliberate, a warning I couldn’t ignore.
“Nah, she’ll stick with beer,” he said, pulling me closer until his grip around me felt like a chain. “Ain’t that right, sweetheart?” The pet name dripped with venom.
He knew what he was doing—tightening the leash, staking his claim.
My muscles tensed, every instinct screaming at me to pull away, to throw an elbow and punch him in the throat. But I knew better than to give him the satisfaction of knowing I was shitting myself. I forced myself to stay still, to breathe through the panic rising in my chest.
Snake’s thumb traced lazy circles on my shoulder, a gesture that might have looked affectionate to an outsider but felt more like a brand. He was marking me as his.