CHAPTER EIGHT
Layla
What was I thinking? What came over me? How did one touch turn me into a begging slut for the big bad biker?
I work on autopilot for the last hour of the night, trying to wrap my head around why Sean is still here, sitting at the other end of the bar watching me.
He isn’t drinking quickly; he’s been sipping one bourbon and a water.
But he’s making me feel completely on edge in a million different ways.
“Avoiding me isn’t going to help you forget about me,” he offers, as I stand from crouching down to empty the bowl of peels into the compost bin. I fight the urge to wipe the cocky expression off this man’s face.
As the bar empties, Sean stands and moves toward me, swallowing the last of his bourbon finally and fishing for his wallet inside his cut.
I notice it’s simple black leather as he pulls enough bills out to pay my rent for at least three months.
Chantel told me their food bill cost a fortune and that they gave her a forty percent tip.
Because he’s a criminal and is paying with blood money. And I just let him finger-fuck me until I came all over him.
Not your finest moment, Layla.
Sean pulls two hundred-dollar bills from the stack and drops them on the bar top. I look at the cash and then back up at him, and his jaw flexes. Our silence is charged with unspoken electricity.
“What the hell is that for?” I ask in an angry whisper, already thinking the worst.
Sean understands me immediately and leans in on his forearms.
“I don’t pay for women, Layla.” The sound of my name hits me square in the chest, even though it isn’t the first time I’ve heard him say it. “This is to cover my drinks from the night, and a tip for you since I held your line up earlier.”
I fold my arms over my chest. The strange thing is that, even though I know he must be a bad man, he seems … oddly trustworthy. I have no idea how, but I can feel it.
“If you’re uncomfortable you can ask your friend. We tipped her the same percentage,” he adds, that hint of amusement back in his vivid eyes.
I sigh, taking the money, and sign his receipt with my name, like we are told to do with every bill, then hand it to him along with his change.
All of his change. It’s too much of a tip and I don’t want any signals crossed here.
Although I desperately need it, I also need to show him that I’m not someone who can be bought and that I’m still somewhat in control.
At least, I’m trying very, very hard to be.
Chantel returns to the bar and Amber follows behind her, both of them carrying spray bottles and rags from cleaning tables. The last patrons fix to leave as I eye the door behind Sean then look back at him.
“So … then, see you never?” I tell him, not knowing what else to say. Chantel and Amber take one look at us staring each other down and freeze in their tracks.
“You’ll see me tomorrow.” He smirks. It’s a stated fact, not a question, and it unnerves me that he’s enjoying this so much.
“No,” I say instantly, shaking my head.
“No?” Sean asks with one eyebrow raised.
“That’s right.” I point between us. “We aren’t happening.”
I can see the girls back away in my periphery as Sean’s grin grows, and he pulls a stool back out, carefully taking a seat as he watches me.
He spreads his arms wide and drums his fingers against the bar top in thought.
I can already tell that time isn’t something he concerns himself with as he sits here like the bar isn’t closed and it isn’t time for him to go.
“I’m serious,” I say, looking around. “This was a one-off.”
He shakes his head and stares at me for a beat.
“Nah,” he says simply.
“Nah?” I ask incredulously.
“That’s right. I find it rude that you’ve already made up your mind about me and you don’t even know me.” His gaze trails down my body then back up. “Especially after you had no problem using me.”
I laugh. “Well, I’m sorry to tell you this …” I cock my hip and place my hand on it. “Actually, maybe I’m the first one to ever tell you this, but the world doesn’t revolve around you and I didn’t exactly have time to think about making a choice in that cooler.”
Sean folds his thick arms over his chest and strokes the underside of his bearded chin with his tattooed knuckles, studying me with those knowing eyes. I’m full of shit and he can tell.
“Yet you had time to push that needy little pussy into my hand instead of pushing me away.”
I suck in a breath, glancing around to make sure no one heard him. He analyzes my response as he leans in closer, folding his hands carefully in front of him on the bar top.
“Using me to come is fine, you can do that any time you like, but I’m not gonna be your dirty secret, little dove.
” He says the last words just loud enough for Chantel to gasp audibly from the back corner, where she and Amber are finding busywork.
I shoot daggers at them quickly then turn back to Sean’s menacing emerald eyes.
“This is my reputation. My job. I need this job to pay my bills and get through school. I need every single cent.” Something in me breaks with the admission of my vulnerable financial state to a stranger, and my voice cracks with my last words.
“And we would never work. This was a one-off,” I repeat.
He watches me as I compose myself, leaning away from him and straightening out my skirt. He stands and pushes in his stool, taking a moment to make sure it’s in line with the rest, then looks me directly in the eye.
“You’ve got a dove inked into your skin. How much do you really know about them?” he asks.
I blink and look up at him, not understanding why we’re talking about this when I just told him to leave. He rests his hand on the bar, the one with his own, larger dove.
“When they find each other, they don’t just bond for the night, so nah,” he says before turning to leave without another word. I follow him, walking briskly.
“How long do they bond for?” I ask behind him.
He just turns and smirks at me over his shoulder, like he knows something I don’t.
“I mean it,” I call after him, trying to sound as tough as I can while he pushes through the glass doors into the now cloudless night.
The moment he’s out of the door I lock it much more violently than warranted and let out a frustrated huff.
The click of the deadbolt echoes through the glass foyer.
I mutter obscenities under my breath as I move back toward the bar to finish up, turning when I get there and leaning back on it, blowing out a breath. I’m not there for more than a second before Chantel and Amber are at my side.
“Whaaaaat was that?” Chantel asks, pulling out a bottle and pouring us all a shot.
I put my head in my hands and groan. “That was a mistake. Five minutes of thinking with my pussy and now he says he’ll ‘see me tomorrow.’ I don’t know what to do.”
Chantel hands me a shot glass. “I do,” she snorts.
I look at her expectantly. She looks from me to Amber as she hands Amber hers. “Give whatever that mountain of a man wants a try, and enjoy every single second.” Chantel laughs. “It’s not the end of the world.”
They both laugh harder and knock back their shots.
“I’ve been to a party or two at the Hounds of Hell clubhouse.
They get up to some pretty crazy shit, and to be honest I think I may have hooked up with one of them a couple years ago.
I was pretty drunk but I just remember it was hot.
” Chantel nudges me. “You could have some fun with him. It’s a distraction from your constant routine of work and school, and it’s not like you’re a prude. You’d like it, I’m sure.”
I look toward the door, shaking my head.
Remembering where he comes from, who he most likely is at his core.
The police sketch released of my parents’ killer fills my mind.
I remember the tattoos, the distinctive leather vest. Sure, it wasn’t unequivocally a Hounds of Hell vest on the killer, but it was someone just like him, wasn’t it?
“Earth to Lay?” Chantel says, snapping her fingers. “Oh my God, this is why you were late coming back from break!” She whistles.
Oh God.
This night just needs to be done. I want to go home, have a hot shower and then fall into bed because I have a 10 a.m. class tomorrow on campus and then I have another full shift here after that.
I also have to ride the bus both ways, since my mom’s old Lincoln died on me a couple weeks ago.
The very last thing I need is a persistent outlaw showing up here tomorrow night and distracting me like this again.
I run through what happened tonight and calm myself down as we continue to close up, feeling like I might be gaining some clarity now that I’m away from his gaze.
This must just be his game. I want nothing to do with his world and I’ll make that clear over and over if I have to.
Yes, he played right into fantasies I hadn’t even fully admitted to myself yet.
But men do this sort of thing every day, so why can’t I?
It’s no big deal. I don’t owe him anything.
I’ll just stay clear if I ever see him again, which I probably won’t.
“Stop worrying about it,” Chantel calls with a laugh from the other side of the bar, surely taking in the way my brow is knotted as I work.
She knows me pretty well after only a few months.
I look up at her and she shrugs. “He probably moved on the moment he left. Men like that don’t have a long attention span. ”
“Yeah.” I nod. She’s right. He’s just fucking with me because he can. He’ll forget all about me.
By the time I head out and climb into Chantel’s car for the ride home she offered me, I almost have myself convinced.