Chapter Two #2
"Now you sound lame." I snorted as she set her glass down with a decisive thunk. "You're new. Not seen you around here before.”
“I’ve been around from time to time. Been a while though. Might have been before your time.” Not a stretch. She was at least fifteen years younger than me.
"Mechanic?" She eyed my hands, and I knew she was noticing the ingrained oil stains, the small burn scar on my right thumb. Details that couldn't be faked. "What do you ride?"
"Custom Harley. Rebuilt the engine myself last year." Truth again. "She's out front if you wanna see her later."
Wren's gaze lingered on my hands a beat too long. "You affiliated?"
The million-dollar question. I took another sip, letting the whiskey burn. "Lady, I got lots of affiliations.” I smiled to take the sting out of my words, but I knew this girl wouldn’t take offense. “Right now, I’m just lookin’ for some fun company.”
“Uh huh.” She gave me a wry grin, seeing through my deflection. Surprisingly, she didn’t call me on it. “What brings you to Nashville?”
I shrugged. “The usual. Fresh start. New town. New faces.”
"Fresh start from what?" Her eyes narrowed, but there was interest there, not just suspicion.
I laughed, running a hand through my hair in a calculated gesture of discomfort. "The usual shit. Bad relationship. Worse job prospects. Needed new scenery."
"So you picked this shithole town?" She was smiling now, a real one that transformed her face. And, oh, my God, the woman was breathtaking when she smiled.
"Got good roads. Decent garages willing to hire someone without asking too many questions." I leaned closer, lowering my voice. "And apparently hot women with purple hair who drink whiskey like water."
A flush crept up her neck, but she didn't back away. Instead, she finished her drink and nodded toward the pool tables. "You play?"
"Depends on the stakes."
"Loser buys the next round." She pushed off from the bar, and I followed, hyperaware of how every guy in Bound in Blood tracked her movement. Several of the men in other clubs too, but not in the way the men of her club did. Like they were ready to carve out my liver with a spork if I made one move on Wren they didn’t much like.
I kept my distance, respectful, watchful, until we reached an open table.
She racked the balls. "You break."
I lined up the shot, the familiar feel of the cue making me smile. The break was clean, two solids dropping into pockets.
"Not bad," she commented, leaning against the wall as I circled for my next shot.
"I've had a bit of practice." I sank another ball, then missed the third deliberately. Never show your full hand too early. First rule of both undercover work and pool hustling.
She stepped up, and I watched the fluid way she moved around the table.
Every motion economical, precise. She cleared three balls before missing what should have been an easy shot.
Yep. Girl knew what she was about. Though, I got the feeling she wasn’t trying too hard.
In fact, I thought she might be mocking me. Which delighted me to no end.
"Distracted?" I asked, moving in to take my turn. Our bodies brushed as we exchanged positions, and I felt a jolt of lust. While I wasn’t above using sex to get what I wanted, I wasn’t entirely certain sex alone would work with this girl.
"By what?" But her voice had a slight huskiness that hadn't been there before.
I leaned over the table, lining up my shot as I frowned, shrugging. "No idea. Just seemed like an easy shot to miss."
“Could say the same for your miss.” She smirked at me. Yeah. Little thing was playing with me. Like a kitten with a ball of yarn. And didn’t the idea of tying this kitten up for hours while I pleasured her bring this whole thing into greater perspective.
We continued our game. Game was the code word here for foreplay.
Because there was absolutely no way I didn’t get this woman in my bed tonight, whether I intended to or not.
When she leaned over for a difficult corner shot, I allowed myself to admire the curve of her ass in that tight black dress.
Pretty sure her ass would make angels weep, too.
"See something you like?" She caught me looking as she straightened up. “Maybe you’re the one distracted.”
"Oh, I definitely like what I see," I replied smoothly with as much innuendo as I could. Wren rolled her eyes.
"So what kind of connections you looking to make in this town?" she asked, watching me sink another ball.
"The useful kind." I straightened up, meeting her gaze. "People who know their way around. People worth knowing."
"And you figured the Valentine's Ball and a local biker bar was a good place to start?"
I shrugged. "Heard it was neutral ground. Figured it was safer than walking into a club bar on a regular night."
She laughed, a genuine sound that made heads turn our way. "Smart. Most new guys aren't that careful."
"I'm not most guys." I missed my next shot on purpose, giving her another turn.
"Clearly." She swept around the table, her body briefly pressing against mine as she passed. Not an accident. "Most guys would've tried a cheesier line by now."
"Would it have worked?" I watched her line up her shot, admiring her focus.
"Not a chance." She sank the ball and straightened, suddenly close enough that I could smell her perfume.
The unexpectedly delicate scent beneath the whiskey and cigarette smoke that clung to everyone in the bar was some kind of pheromone.
The more I smelled, the more I wanted. The more I wanted, the closer I needed to get to her.
The closer I got… Yeah. The more I needed to fuck her.
To claim her. To completely ruin her then make her mine forever.
"Guess I'll stick with what I'm doing." I held her gaze, letting the genuine interest show. No use hiding what I wanted. I got the feeling Wren could see through bullshit like she had some finely tuned detector. Besides, the fact was, I wanted to fuck her like I wanted my next breath.
She sank the eight ball with a clean shot that left no doubt about her skill. "You just lost."
"Did I?" I asked, not talking about the game.
Her eyes flickered with interest before she nodded toward the bar. "You owe me a drink."
I followed at her side this time, my hand possessively at her back.
I got a few raised eyebrows from men around the room, but no one made a move to intercept us.
Maybe because Wren allowed my touch. I had no doubt if she indicated in any way I was annoying her, I’d have myself an accident on the way out of the club.
As I ordered another round, I watched her from the corner of my eye. She was texting someone, her face briefly troubled. When she caught me looking, she tucked the phone away.
"Your old man checking in?" I asked casually, sliding her whiskey across the bar.
Her eyebrow raised. "What makes you think my dad’s checking up on me?"
"Everyone's got someone wondering where they are." Careful territory here. I couldn't reveal I knew about Ghost, but I needed to gauge her connection to him.
"You’re right about it being my dad." She said it simply, taking a sip. "But he texted to say he's running late."
"You two close?"
"Very." The single word carried weight, a warning even. She studied me over her glass. "What about you? Anyone wondering where Rocky the mechanic disappears to?"
I laughed, letting real bitterness flavor it. "Not for a long time." I shrugged. “I might be the sole exception to my earlier statement.”
Something in my tone must have registered as truth because her expression softened slightly. "Their loss."
The conversation flowed easier after that, moving between casual topics like bikes, local hang outs, and music, while we finished our drinks.
I found myself genuinely enjoying her company.
The way she called bullshit when I tried to bluff about a custom exhaust system.
The flash in her eyes when she talked about rebuilding her own bike.
The subtle tells when she described her father as protective and proud, but something complicated underneath.
"You're different," she said suddenly, studying me with those perceptive eyes that seemed to strip away layers.
"Different how?" I leaned closer, our shoulders touching.
"Most guys here are trying too hard. You're..." She searched for the word. "Present. But also holding something back."
Dangerous perception. I filed that away as a reminder to be careful not to underestimate Wren even as I let myself smile. "Maybe I'm just not that complicated."
"Bullshit." She threw her head back and laughed merrily, and I knew for certain I was doomed.
"Everyone's complicated." She tossed back the last of her whiskey.
"Let's get out of here." Wren's words caught me off guard, her green eyes holding mine with a directness that suggested she knew exactly what she was proposing.
She leaned closer, her voice dropping. "I'm sick of this Valentine's circus.
You got somewhere more private we can go?
" My brain split in two directions instantly. I had a task here. Getting her alone and giving her a great time might get me where I needed to be, but I really didn’t like starting something with her — even if it was just sex — with a lie.
I hesitated, which wasn't like me. Hesitation would get you killed. But something about Wren made me pause, made me wonder if I was crossing a line I couldn't uncross. While my operation didn’t involve Bound in Blood, Vittorio assured me he would cover any blow back as long as I kept Wren safe and didn’t hurt her.
I had no intention of hurting this woman whatsoever, but keeping my cover intact was just as important as being careful with Wren.
"You sure about that?" I asked, buying myself seconds to think.
Her expression turned guarded. "If you're not interested..."