Chapter 2 #2
There are two things a person can do to absolutely boil my blood.
Talking down about a woman and showing even a shred of disrespect towards Nox.
And he managed to do both in a matter of goddamn minutes.
The only reason the kid has two legs to walk away on is because we’re in public with witnesses. Otherwise, he’d be crawling home.
The bouncer nods at us, eyes sharp with gratitude.
“Appreciate it, boys. Kid’s been trying to get in for weeks now.
Says he just wants to talk to his ex, but I'm on good authority that she doesn’t want to speak to him,” he chuckles, like he’s privy to some private joke but doesn’t elaborate further.
Part of me still believes he could have been here for her, but the other part of me couldn’t imagine my little addiction ever fawning over such a small, inconsequential excuse of a man.
She doesn’t seem like the type to waste her time on someone that needed to be taught how to treat a woman properly.
I’ve been coming here for a few weeks, long enough to know that her confidence is far above that weak little shit who thinks he can bark orders as if anyone actually respects him.
She doesn’t walk like a woman who settles or speak like someone who is so easily impressed.
I’ve seen her little attitude come out a few times and it makes my dick hard every goddamn time.
She’s the kind of woman who deserves the world burned down for her, and he wouldn’t even be able to hold the match.
I shrug, pulling at the collar of my shirt. “He won’t be back. I think I made my point clear enough.” Breaking a couple of bones could have made it a little more clear, but I digress.
Nox claps a hand on my shoulder, grinning. “Always the charmer.”
I huff out a laugh and push open the doors, immediately assaulted by the sound of some poor, pathetic drunk absolutely butchering Guns N’ Roses’, Sweet Child O’ Mine. Jesus, fuck. Everyone is tone deaf once they have a couple drinks in them.
Pour Decisions looks like your average dive bar.
The lighting is dim, except for the few neon signs on the walls, and the space is packed with booths and a few open tables in the center.
A bartop stretches along the left side of the room with a door that leads into their kitchen, and there’s a small stage in the back where the drunk man sways against the microphone stand.
A nice, older looking hispanic woman is behind the bar holding a conversation with another bartender as she slings shots like it’s a sport. She sees us and winks as she slides a drink down the counter to a waiting hand.
Impressive. You can tell she’s been doing this for a while. I didn’t see her here the last time I came. She must not have been working.
A man bumps into me on his way inside and I take one step towards him before I feel Nox’s hand on my shoulder. “Come on,” he says, nodding towards an open table that, unfortunately, sits in the center of the room. “Let's grab a drink before you decide to start throwing people through windows.”
I give my brother a wicked grin and follow him to the table. He knows me so well.
We take our seats and the Hispanic woman from behind the bar makes her way towards us, while the other bartender makes a beeline for the stage. I can’t help the way my eyes follow her every move. The ass on her is holding my eyes, and my dick, hostage.
It’s her.
“What can I get you boys?” The woman’s voice forces my eyes away from the roundest ass I’ve ever seen and I give her an annoyed look.
Her voice is smooth but carries an edge, as though she’s used to dealing with assholes and isn’t afraid to put them in their place.
Which isn’t too far off when dealing with my brother and I.
Especially after pulling my attention away from the only reason I came here in the first place.
“Guess that depends,” I glance over at the name tag pinned to her shirt and give her a sarcastic smirk, “Loretta. You making the drinks strong tonight?”
Loretta snorts. “Depends. You two gonna be a pain in my ass tonight?”
Nox chuckles under his breath, clearly entertained.
I huff out a laugh and nod, “Beer, whatever's cold.”
“Old fashioned, dry.” Nox adds, like the pretentious bastard that he is.
She scribbles the order down and glances towards the stage before looking back at us.
“I'll go grab those drinks for you. Once Wren is done up there, she'll be your waitress for the night.”
My heart starts racing at the mention of her name. I was never able to get close enough to her before without raising suspicion or blowing my cover. I stuck to dark corners and tried to stay on the opposite side of the bar she was working on so I never caught her name.
Wren. It fits my little addiction so well, but before I get the chance to say anything, Nox beats me to it. “She sings?”
Loretta’s lips twitch like she's amused. “Every Friday. They can’t get enough of her.” Yeah, get in fucking line.
Loretta looks back towards the stage, her expression softening for half a second before she masks it with that no nonsense edge again. I haven’t been here on a Friday, until today. Explains why I had no idea she sang.
Looks like karaoke night just got a whole lot more interesting.
“Try not to distract her.” Then she’s off, disappearing behind the bar with the kind of ease that only comes from years of doing this.
Within seconds, my full attention is back on Wren.
I'm frozen in place as she turns towards the microphone as if she's done it a hundred times before, facing the waiting crowd with effortless confidence.
My eyes are once again plastered to her delicious figure.
Those extra tight skinny jeans hugging her perfect ass, the small black tank top clinging to her like a second skin.
A soft spotlight washes over her tan skin, highlighting the smooth dip of her waist and the tempting sliver of skin between fabric and denim.
Long chocolate hair catches the light with each subtle tilt of her head, and all I can think about is how I want to wrap my fist around it, pull her back against me, and feel exactly how her body would mold to mine.
Fuck, she’s intoxicating.
She opens those perfect lips and I know I’m done for.
Her voice rips through me, sending a jolt of electricity straight to my dick, and I can only imagine how she’ll sound when she’s moaning for me.
I’ve never heard someone do a cover of Rain by Sleep Token, but fucking hell if this doesn't sound better than the original.
My breath catches as each note seems to reach into a place I didn't know existed, my need to possess Wren at an all time high.
Wren’s stage presence is magnetic, commanding attention from everyone with every move she makes.
Thirty-some pairs of eyes in the crowd follow her as she sings, her full lips curving with each note, making me wish she was standing in front of me like that, gripping my dick instead of the microphone.
There’s something off, though. Wren’s voice is smooth, sultry even, but there’s an urgency to it. Maybe she’s trying to push past whatever has her on edge? Her eyes scan over the crowd, lingering just a little too long in certain spots before she forces herself to focus on the song again.
Since I started coming here, I’ve noticed that she’s always on high alert. Always looking over her shoulder, small things spooking her more than they should. I started to wonder if she could feel my gaze on her. Could she feel what I’m feeling too?
I lean back in my chair and lazily stretch my arms behind my head, looking too at ease for someone who just murdered a man less than an hour ago, but I can’t help it. My little addiction can feel our connection and it has me higher than any drug I’ve taken.
Nox glares over at me with an annoyed stare and shakes his head. “Fuck no. I know that look. Don’t even think about it,” he says, pointing a finger in my direction.
I bring my hands out from behind my head in mock surrender and give him a look as if I have no idea what he’s talking about and then steer my eyes back to Wren.
“She’s not a good idea,” he mutters sternly, low enough for only me to hear. Nox says this about any woman I point out to him, never thinking anyone is good enough for us.
Little does he know, she’s the best idea yet.
I smirk, dragging my gaze from the stage just long enough to glance at him. “Didn’t say she was.”
“But you’re thinking it,” he counters, his tone dry as hell. “We still have at least three names left and we can’t afford a distraction. Especially not one that looks as good as that.” He points a hand over towards the stage, but even as he says it, his eyes move right back towards her.
So he’s admitting it. At least he’s not fucking blind.
I don’t respond, because I know he’s fucking right, but that doesn’t mean I have to listen.
As the song comes to an end, a round of cheers erupts from the bar. Wren offers a small smile in return before stepping off the stage and grabbing her apron. I don’t miss the way she exhales as soon as she’s no longer in the spotlight. She might think no one is paying attention to her, but I am.
She heads straight for our table, her eyes scanning for her next task. Before she reaches us, she pulls her notepad out of the pocket of her apron. To her misfortune, the pen slips from her fingers, bouncing across the floor until it rolls and stops at the toe of my boot.
I glance down, my boots heavy against the floor, before lifting my gaze back to her.
She bends quickly to grab it, mumbling something under her breath.
With a quick motion, I reach down and pick it up for her.
Wren’s small hand grazes mine, a fleeting touch that spreads heat from my skin all the way to the hollow ache deep in my core.
Her gaze drifts lazily up my arm, tracing the intricate designs of my tattoos, no doubt.
My little addiction’s stare lingers a moment too long at my chest, and I can almost feel the heat of it piercing through the fabric of my shirt.
I don’t mind. In fact, I kind of like her checking me out.
I’ve been waiting for this moment since I first laid eyes on her.
“Careful,” I say smiling, my voice low. “Wouldn’t want you to lose this.”
Her cheeks turn a bright pink and she looks at me like she doesn’t have any brain function. Wren finally realizes she’s staring and clears her throat. “Thanks.” Her voice has a hint of nervousness in it, but she reaches out, her fingers fully brushing against mine as she takes the pen.
“No problem,” I reply, offering her a slow, deliberate grin, not missing the way she’s clearly trying to regain her composure.
That’s right, baby. Let those feelings take over you, like they’ve taken over me.
She straightens and looks down at her notepad, obviously trying to hide the flush on her face. “What can I get you guys?” Wren asks, forcing her voice to sound more nonchalant.
I lean back in my chair, looking over at Nox, who looks as though he just now realized what I’ve been up to these last couple of weeks. Is that annoyance I’m clocking, or perhaps jealousy?
“Loretta already took our drink order, but I think she may have gotten a little busy. You wouldn’t mind grabbing those for us, would you, little bird?”
She looks up at the mention of the nickname I just gave her and those cheeks get a little bit darker.
“And what, exactly, makes you think I want to be called ‘little bird?’”
“Is a wren not a bird?”
Wren stares at me intently but doesn’t respond right away. After a beat, she rolls her eyes and shakes her head. “Whatever, what’d you order?”
She goes to put pen to paper, but I can see the slight tremor in her hand. Oh, I think I’ve just ruffled her feathers. That’s too bad. I think I’m gonna enjoy pissing off my new pet.
“Just a beer and a dry old fashioned, sweetheart.”
Her eyes lift to mine, “Any specific beer?”
Leaning in, I whisper so only she can hear me, “Bring me your favorite.”
She lets out a soft, short laugh, scribbling something down on her pad. She glances up at me, a crooked smile playing on her lips.
“I don’t drink that piss water. I’m more of a margarita girl. I could bring you one of those if you want, with a cute little umbrella. Make it real special for ya.” She winks at me and goddamn, I think I’m fucking in love with this girl. I knew she had some fire in her.
“Anything else?” she asks, as if she didn’t just knock the breath out of me with that wink.
“I’m sure you could help me with a lot of things, but the drinks will do for now.” I give her a mischievous smirk and wink back at her.
“Jesus, fuck.” Nox curses, dropping his arms on the table, causing the silverware to clink. I bet this isn't what he had in mind when I told him I found a new spot for us.
With a nervous laugh, she turns and walks off to get our drinks. Damn does she look good from behind. I can’t help but keep my eyes on her, so when an arm darts out and grabs her, I don't miss it. I recognize him immediately. It’s the little shit from outside. How the fuck did he get in?
The moment she flinches, I’m out of my seat, my chair scraping loudly against the floor.
I’m going to kill this motherfucker.