Chapter Nine #3
If Mick hears the annoyance in my voice, he doesn’t show it.
He drops his arm from my neck and heads for the door, whistling like he doesn’t have a care in the world.
Danny and I follow him through the restaurant and out front, where a few more of my guys are already waiting by their cars.
As soon as they see us, they start hooting and hollering, ready to get the night started.
We don’t stand around long before everyone piles into their cars and we pull out of the Bayside lot together.
Triple O’s is only a short drive away. I turn into the lot beside the building and pull into a space near the others. Danny waits by my car while I get out, and we start for the door together. Ahead of us, Mick has the rest of the guys halfway there, laughing and talking over one another.
Inside the bar, the jukebox is blaring, and my guys have already taken over the corner by the pool tables.
Some are sitting with drinks, others are on their feet holding cues, and the shouting starts the second they see me, my name mixed in with a mess of congratulations as drinks go up.
Before I can get any farther, Mick appears beside me with two beers and pushes one into my hand.
That was fast.
“Here you go, boss,” he says, one corner of his mouth curled, before he taps his bottle against mine.
The way he says it makes my eyes narrow, but I only give him a nod.
I lift the beer toward the tables. “Cheers,” I call, then take a drink.
Mick watches me like he expects me to ask what the fuck he’s playing at.
I don’t give him the satisfaction. He scoffs under his breath and heads back to the bar, already calling to one of the lads.
I leave him to whatever problem he’s got with me and walk over to the pool tables, where Danny is already racking the balls.
Someone hands me a cue, and I take the first game, which gets two of the boys arguing over who’s got the next one.
I’m just finishing the beer Mick gave me when Danny comes back from the bar with another and passes it over.
We play a few more games, not that anyone’s keeping score by then. Drinks keep finding their way into my hands. I told myself I’d stop after the first few, but another one always shows up, passed over with a handshake, another congratulations, or a clap on the back. They go down too easy.
Everything’s louder. Everything’s funny.
When I check my watch, the numbers don’t make sense at first. My head’s thick, and when I move, the room tilts a little.
I’m done. All I want is my bed.
I look around for Danny. I wasn’t planning on drinking this much, but if I did, he was supposed to be the one with enough sense to call me a cab and get me home. Instead, I find him in the corner with a woman backed up against the wall and his mouth on hers.
That plan’s fucked.
I need air. I set my glass down and head outside.
The noise follows me, then cuts off when the door swings shut behind me.
I take a breath and look up and down the street, hoping to catch a cab, but there isn’t one in sight.
I drag a hand down my face and turn back toward the bar, figuring I’ll have to go back in and ask the bartender to call me one.
Then I see Kitty leaning against my car.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, the words coming out slower than I mean them to.
She shrugs. “My dad mentioned where you were headed when I saw him earlier. Figured I’d stop by and see if you were having a good stag night.” She smiles. “Make sure you get a proper send-off.”
I stare at her, trying to make sense of what she just said.
A snort sounds behind me, close enough that I flinch, and Mick comes up at my shoulder. “You’ve got yourself a car, girlie?”
“I’ve got my dad’s,” Kitty says, holding up the keys and giving them a little shake.
Mick looks me over and grins. “You’re not driving anywhere, not by the looks of you.” He nudges me toward Kitty. “Looks like you’ve got yourself a ride.”
I stumble a step and catch myself against my car. Kitty moves closer. I expect her to take my arm and steer me toward her car. Instead, she slips her arms around my neck and presses herself against me.
She leans in close, her mouth near my ear. “Congratulations, Ronin,” she whispers, her breath hot against my skin.
Then she kisses me.
Her perfume fills my senses—thick, musky. Wrong. Not light like Alannah’s. When she pulls back, her eyes are dark, searching mine.
“Come on,” she says softly, reaching past me to open the back door of the Cadillac.
I should pull away.
But I don’t.
I climb into the back seat, and she follows, pulling the door shut behind us. The interior is dark, the streetlight casting shadows as she moves closer. Her hands find my shoulders, then my chest, sliding down.
“Kitty—”
She kisses me again, harder, and I let her.
My hands move to her waist, pulling her closer.
“Is this okay?” she asks, her voice low. She reaches into her bra and pulls out a small foil packet, holding it up between us.
The sight of it—the fact that she brought it, that she planned this—registers for a moment, then slides away. “Yeah,” I manage. “Yeah, it’s okay.”
Her hands are on my belt, working it loose. She tears open the foil packet. Rolls on the condom. Then she’s straddling me, her skirt riding up as she lowers herself onto me. The weight of her is real, solid. Her skin feels hot against mine.
The car rocks.
I close my eyes, my hands gripping her hips, and let myself fall into it. Into her. Into the wrongness of it that feels too easy to ignore when my head is this thick and she’s this close.
It doesn’t last long. The alcohol has dulled everything, turned it hazy and unfocused. By the time it’s over, I barely know when it happened. She stays where she is for a moment, her forehead resting against mine, both of us breathing hard.
Then she shifts into the seat beside me. I watch, detached, as she smooths her skirt down and fixes her hair, the movements too practised, too casual. Something about it sits wrong.
I let my head drop, gaze moving to my lap, needing to look away. But instead I’m met with more proof of what I’ve just done—my shirt open, belt undone, the condom still on my softening cock. I close my eyes.
“You all right?” Her voice cuts through the quiet, closer than I expect.
I croak out a “yeah,” though I’m not sure it’s true.
She leans over, presses a kiss to my cheek, then opens the door and slips out into the night. “Get some sleep, Ronin,” she says, and then she’s gone, the door closing behind her.
I sit there in the dark, the reality of what just happened starting to seep in through the haze.
Tomorrow I’m supposed to pick up Alannah. Take her to see the house. Our house.
I close my eyes and lean my head back against the seat. My head throbs in time with my heartbeat. How much did I drink? The thought barely finishes forming before everything slows and drifts, sleep pulling me under.
I wake slowly. My neck is stiff, my mouth dry, and at first I don’t remember where I am. Then it comes back—the bar, the drinks, Kitty leaning against my car… the backseat.
Oh shit.
I fucked up.
I sit up, every muscle protesting. My pants are still undone. I do them up with clumsy fingers, then climb into the front seat and start the car.