Chapter 6
Six
Declan
The Black Bear is my kind of bar. A couple of worn pool tables, booths around the edges of a dirty floor, three feet of clean mahogany, loud music, and a nice girl serving the drinks.
But I’m only interested in the one that came in with me.
I can’t believe she agreed. She must want this at some level, even though if she wins, I said I’d leave. Whether I will? Don’t know yet.
I’m hoping it won’t come to that, but she’s going to play her damn best—anything less, I’d be disappointed.
Even though it’s still early, the bar’s already half full: Fourth of July weekend. But one of the tables is free.
“You rack, I’ll get drinks,” I tell Genesis.
“Yes, sir.” It’s a sarcastic response, but the innuendo beneath makes my cock twitch, and I look at her.
The blush she rewards me with is one of the most mesmerizing things I’ve seen, and the glare she tries to cover it with is just as stunning.
Dark chestnut eyes cutting through me, like she has no idea what they do.
She’s gorgeous, that’s the truth. Fire and beauty in one package.
Faced with losing the match and leaving her, or winning this match and having her?
That’s incentive.
The queue at the bar isn’t too long, and I order two beers, double shots of bourbon on the side. A little alcohol helps my pool, and I’m guessing it’ll hit her harder than it hits me. I’m not past some gentle cheating when the stakes are this high.
Genesis has the table ready by the time I get back, and she’s drawn attention, too.
But of course she would’ve done; a girl in leather pants and a cropped strappy top, about to lean over a pool table?
That tattoo of thorns and flowers wends its way down from her shoulder and beneath her clothing, surfacing again at the bare skin around her midriff.
It’s a provocation as if to say ‘you’ll never see the rest of it,’ and for a moment, I can’t take my eyes off it.
And I’m not the only one. Half a dozen guys are watching her, and some of them have moved closer.
My jaw tightens when I see them, but I manage to relax enough to give Genesis a smile as I put the drinks down on a convenient table. I’ve got a lot of work to do to get her in my bed tonight, and I can’t afford any mistakes.
“Boiler makers?” she asks. “Trying to get me drunk?”
“Yes,” I say with a challenge, dropping a shot into the bottom of each glass, and handing hers over.
She gives me a wry smile, chinks glasses, and takes a decent pull. I do the same, reach for the second shot, toast her and swallow. She follows, wipes the back of her hand over her mouth, and narrows her eyes at me.
“If you think that’s enough to put me off my game, you’ll be disappointed, Mister.”
“No ‘sir’ anymore?”
The glare and the blush both come back. Excellent.
She pulls a quarter and flips it, catching it on the back of her hand.
But I shake my head. “Your choice. Winner breaks from now on.”
“Fine,” she says, pulling a cue from the rack and carefully inspecting the tip. “I’ll take that advantage.”
She chalks up with the well-used cube on the side of the table, then readies herself with a stance that shows she knows what she’s doing.
And elicits some wolf whistles from the watching men.
The crowd has grown; there’s now a dozen guys near our table, giving us space but clearly more interested in Genesis than the game.
The cue ball slams into the rack, splitting it with a crack that sends them skittering around the table. Two go down. She doesn’t hesitate, but lines up for another shot, and sinks the next ball.
The men behind her are staring at her ass, and one of them makes a comment to the guy next to him that I can’t hear over the music. They both laugh.
I tighten my grip on my cue, jaw clenching as I glare at them both. I should be watching her—I’m here for her—and I drag my eyes back to the game with an effort.
Genesis sinks three more in quick succession, her skill evident, then gets out of position, because the baize is crowded with my balls. She misses her next shot, then taps the side of the table with a grimace.
“All yours, Romeo.”
“Don’t choke, Romeo,” one of the men calls, raising a laugh from the others.
It opens the floor to more heckling.
“Going to let the pretty girl win?”
“’Course he is.”
Ignoring them, I line up my first shot. Genesis has left me plenty of options, clearing her balls out of the way. It doesn’t take long to knock down half of what’s left.
I look up to see Genesis watching me, standing leaning on her cue, her beer in her hand. Another man is approaching from behind her, and he’s oblivious to my stare. He says something to her which I can’t hear over the music and the noise, and I scowl as I line up my next shot.
She can handle herself. I know she can.
But he leans in, and his hand comes to rest on her waist. It’s enough to distract me. The ball catches in the jaws of the pocket, rattles, and bounces out.
I don’t care—it means Genesis won’t be standing next to that asshole. I swap places with her, giving a muttered “Good luck,” as I pass, but my eyes aren’t on her. They’re on the guy who dared to lay a hand on her.
He gives me a smug grin, not backing down, and that only pisses me off more.
“Don’t touch what’s not yours,” I growl at him, this close from smashing my fist into his face.
“Hey Sweetbutt,” he calls past me. “You belong to this fella?”
“No,” Genesis says without hesitating, pots her next ball, then gives me a look that’s all challenge.
Shit.
But what did I expect?
“There you go,” the guy says. “Free game. I’ll touch whatever she lets me touch.”
“Not if you don’t want your fingers broken.”
He laughs with a nervous note, taking a half pace back.
I put him from my mind, turning to watch as Genesis clears the rest of the table, sinking the black while I still have three balls remaining.
“Winner breaks, right?” she says, a suggestive little tilt to her hips as she walks past me, gives me a smile, and runs her fingers across my shoulder. “Rack ‘em.”
Her touch makes my skin tingle, even through my T-shirt. But I’m torn between focusing on her, and watching the irritating antics of too many men too close to her. I’m not enjoying this the way I should be, and slam the balls down onto the table as I re-rack them.
Fuck those guys. I’m here with her, not for any other reason, and I want to savor every minute of it. Hell, if I lose this match, it might just be the last time I see Genesis.
That thought makes it hard to breathe, and I know I won’t take no for an answer. I can’t. Even though I’ve given her my word, and I’ll hate myself for it as much as she’ll hate me.
Great. Even my pride has gone. What the fuck is the matter with me?
But this isn’t just about Genesis. I have a job to do, too. If I lose this damn game, I told her I’d walk away from Renner. Why the fuck did I agree to that?
I’m not thinking straight, and I know exactly why. She’s messing with my head.
She’s just a tool to get close to the crew, a means to an end. That’s what I have to remember. Anything else that happens between us is just… what, a perk of the job?
That’s cold, Declan.
It’s also unconvincing.
Genesis leans forward to break again, and she’s at the far end of the table, right opposite me.
Her top dips as she lines up the shot, and there’s just enough of a curve of sun-kissed skin to prove really damn distracting.
It’s no wonder every man in range is watching us, watching her. She’s incredible, and we all know it.
Three balls on the break this time, and she sets about working through hers.
“Fuck, look at that ass!”
“Haven’t once looked away.”
“Show us how far down those tats go!”
She ignores them like they haven’t spoken, getting on with the game.
But it’s clear that one of her balls is stuck against the cushion, two of mine trapping it in.
Though she makes a couple of attempts to bounce the cue ball into them and knock it free, it’s still clinging on desperately. Just like my chances.
And I’m getting worked up by the comments.
It’s not the first time I’ve heard men shout out at a girl like this, but it’s the first time it’s at anyone I care about. Maybe it doesn’t bother her, but it sure as hell bothers me.
“Nice try, baby!” one of the men calls as she misses, and she clicks her tongue in disappointment.
“Almost had you,” she says as she swaps places with me.
“I’m still going to have you,” I murmur as I pass her.
I use that thought as my motivation, concentrating enough to set aside the distractions for a few shots, and it doesn’t take me long to work through what she’s left me to clean up.
She took five balls down that time, and the table’s open.
One after the other sink into the pockets, and I line up on my next.
Then straighten without taking it, because that same asshole is back behind Genesis. This time, his hand isn’t on her waist. He slaps it into her ass.
And I see red.
“Hey! You keep—”
But Genesis lifts her cue up, then drives it down unerringly, right into the top of the guy’s foot. And she hardly moved.
“Fuck!” He cries out, hissing in pain, limping away from her and favoring his injured foot.
A couple of the guys laugh.
Genesis meets my gaze across the table, a playful little smile curling her lips.
She’s enjoying herself, but I can’t tell whether it’s the game, the attention, me, or the casual violence she just committed.
That guy’s still grimacing as he sits down heavily in a chair, then scowls at Genesis’s back.
I force a laugh because she’s watching me, but it’s strained. It takes me a couple of breaths to steady myself. Then I direct my building anger into my next shot, driving a ball into the corner pocket, and banking off to hit my last one free of the cushion.
“Shot,” Genesis calls, with a note of respect.
That’s all the inspiration I need to sink that ball, then the black too. I grin up at her. “Your turn to rack.”