Chapter 13 #2
“Unfortunately, no, he doesn’t,” I mumbled, and immediately regretted it when Cash’s brows jumped.
He smiled at me, and I suddenly realized this man was charming.
Like, very charming. Sure, he was gruff and a little scary, but he was handsome and had bucketfuls of charisma.
He tilted his head toward the bar. “Buy you a drink?”
“Thank you, but no,” I said, then pointed at a camera on a pole that surveyed the parking lot. “This thing catch Mr. Titty in the act?”
“Maybe. But if I didn’t show the cops the footage, and I didn’t show your hubby either, what makes you think I’ll show you?”
“I’m asking really nicely?” I blinked at him, smiling.
Okay, yes, I was flirting a little. But if Gideon hadn’t gotten footage from this camera, maybe it could help him catch Mr. Titty.
And also…I was enjoying myself. My husband was ignoring me, and by now I was pretty sure whatever spark had lit between us on our wedding night and at the Marswood Harbor Fair was destined to die.
I wasn’t going to do anything with Cash Bridges—I wasn’t actually into him, and I would never cheat on anyone, even if they clearly didn’t want me—but I really wasn’t in the mood to clean when the weather was so good, and I was pretty sure I’d figured out something important about Mr. Titty.
He rocked back on his heels, studying me. Then he shrugged as if to say, What the hell, why not? Tilting his head toward the building, he invited me inside.
I looked at the dark building and hesitated. Going into a biker bar didn’t seem like an impulse I should follow. Then again, it was ten o’clock on a Wednesday morning. How bad could it be?
The bar was as dive-y inside as it looked outside.
It smelled like stale beer with an undertone of piss.
Peanut shells littered the ground, and grizzled old men in motorcycle jackets sat along the bar.
The back wall was dominated by a gigantic skull with flames coming out of its eyes and mouth.
A few younger men clustered around a pool table, looking hungover and grumpy.
Other than me, there were only two women inside: one standing behind the bar wearing a white tube top and short denim shorts, her bleached blond hair teased out past her shoulders, and the other an older woman wearing a motorcycle jacket of her own, sitting at a booth near the pool table with one of the younger men.
Every single person turned to look when I walked in with Cash. I was in over my head. Then again, I’d felt this way since I drove into town two weeks ago, and at least I was doing something productive.
Cash walked to the bar and leaned on the polished wood surface, angling his body toward one of the gray-haired, bearded men sipping a bottle of beer at the bar. I put a hand on the surface beside him, then gingerly took it back when I felt how disgustingly sticky it was.
“This little bird wants to see some footage from our camera outside,” Cash said to the man, whose dark eyes swung over to look at me. “Wants to see who tagged our wall outside.”
“That so,” the older man replied, less of a question and more of a statement.
I gave him a winning smile. “I’m working on a theory,” I explained.
“And why should we help you? You’re Gideon Mars’s woman, aren’t you? One of them mail-order brides?”
“More like email-order bride, amirite?”
He snorted, and the corners of his eyes crinkled even though his lips didn’t curl. “I think Etta’s out of her mind,” he said. “No way this whole thing works out.” He nodded his head at me, and I understood that “this whole thing” meant the arranged marriage scheme, of which I was lucky number one.
The old man turned away from me and tilted his bottle against his lips.
Cash gestured to the bartender, who put two bottles of beer down on the bar top.
Cash slid one over to me. The younger men at the pool table had drifted closer, and I glanced over my shoulder to see the three of them watching me.
I felt like a piece of meat, and I was starting to think I shouldn’t have come inside this place at all.
Cash shifted his body slightly and made a subtle hand gesture, and the men stopped advancing. He sipped his beer and watched me, all dark eyes and danger. With one arm leaning against the bar, he looked like a lion at rest. A smile creased his cheeks. Uh-oh.
“You ever been on a bike, sweetheart?”
“Like, a motorcycle?” I squeaked.
His smile widened. “Yes, babe. A motorcycle.”
I shook my head.
“You want to go for a ride? Feel the wind in that pretty dark hair of yours?” He reached over and touched a lock of my hair.
Before I could answer, the door banged open. I knew, by the shiver that went through me, who was standing on the threshold.
“Touch her again and lose your hand, Cash,” Gideon growled.
I turned to see my husband silhouetted in the doorway. His face was in shadow, but even so, I could tell he was furious. It emanated from him in dark waves, filling the space with brutal tension. My spine snapped straighter, and it became hard to breathe.
Everyone else felt it too. The men shifted on their feet, puffing their chests as they faced Gideon. Hands went to waistbands, and I wondered how many of them were carrying guns.
Suddenly, I felt very, very stupid for having come in here. The tension ratcheted up. Breathing in the air in the bar felt like trying to inhale noxious soup. Cash shifted behind me; I felt him straighten and move closer. I clutched my coffee cup in one hand, hoping no one could see me trembling.
Gideon didn’t care about the dozen other men in the bar who were doing their best to intimidate him.
He stalked across the floorboards toward me, and bikers shifted out of his way rather than try to stop him.
They glared at him, and as he got closer they glared at me.
I felt their gazes on me like rakes of dagger-sharp claws, but I could look at no one but Gideon.
His hair was pulled back, his scars on full display. That, combined with the ire written in every line of his face and body, made him look like wrath personified.
I expected him to stop in front of me. Maybe tilt his head and order me around, tell me it was time to leave. As he moved even closer, my heart tripped, and I was sure he was going to throw me over his shoulder and carry me bodily out of the bar.
He did none of those things.
Instead, Gideon buried his hand in my hair, tilted my head back, and crushed his lips to mine.
This was not the same kiss as our wedding night.
It had nothing to do with wanting; this was Gideon staking his claim.
Proving a point. I felt it in the way he held me, how he angled my body so everyone could see I belonged to him, how he kissed me so hard it felt like a bruise.
When he pulled away, his eyes were black. “We’re leaving,” he growled. “Now.”
I could do nothing but nod my agreement. He’d reduced me to a puddle of simpering need. I knew I should’ve been humiliated, or at least outraged, but all I could feel was desire. I wanted to be wanted so badly that Gideon couldn’t help himself, the way I couldn’t help myself.
Sliding his hand down to drape across the back of my neck, his palm pressed between the top of my shoulder blades, Gideon led me toward the exit.
Then Cash said, “Hey, sweetheart, you forgot something.”
I turned to look at the man surrounded by all his threatening biker friends.
He flashed me that scary-hot smile and tossed something through the air.
I disengaged from Gideon in time to catch it with one hand, then let Gideon tow me out the doors where the air was fresh and the sun was shining.
I gulped down a deep breath as my mind reeled.
“You going to tell me why the hell I found you in Rock Bottom talking to Cash fucking Bridges?” Gideon demanded, dropping his hand from my back. And, hey, turned out Gideon was still really mad.
And that made me mad, because what the hell! I planted my hands on my hips. “How did you even know I was there?”
He leaned closer, so I could see the sparks of anger in his blue eyes. “Why were you at Rock Bottom with Cash Bridges, Sadie?”
“What the hell do you care?”
His anger snapped against my skin like a thousand elastic bands. I welcomed it. It was better than the cool avoidance I’d gotten from him so far. The push and pull. The little droplets of affection that kept me on the hook.
At least, it felt better in the moment. Because at least now I knew I wasn’t the only one who felt something. And who was he, to demand anything of me? Who was he to care so much?
Gideon’s jaw tensed. His chest rose and fell with a sharp breath, his eyes scanning my face, my body.
Fool that I was, I wanted him to grab me and kiss me again. I wanted him to wreck me. To take my heart and crush it in his hands. At least then I wouldn’t be drifting through life feeling like a shell of a person.
For a moment, I thought he would. I felt his desire like a rope around my wrists, keeping me tethered to him.
Then he swore and tore his gaze away from me, and the moment was over. I exhaled, confused by the hurt that sawed into my chest like a serrated blade.
But what was confusing about the truth? Gideon didn’t want me. He never had.
With tears stinging my eyes, I shoved the item Cash had thrown me against Gideon’s chest. “Here,” I spat out. “I was in there to get this for you.”
GIDEON
I caught the little piece of plastic against my chest before it could drop to the ground, but my eyes remained on my wife.
My stubborn, angry, breathtaking wife.
Fury still coursed through my veins at the thought of Cash touching her.
I wanted to go back in there and tear the other man’s limbs clean off his body, then come back and kiss her until she promised she belonged to me.
Tell her to get on her knees and apologize for making me chase her across town like this, for making me feel so out of control.
I managed to look down at my palm, and the haze of anger was eased with a breath of confusion.
She’d given me a flash drive.