Killian #3
Sean’s question goes unanswered as the woman we speak of walks over, notepad in hand and glasses slightly askew on her nose.
If I’m being honest, she looks damn adorable like this, tiny frizzy curls haloing her brow.
“Look what the cat dragged in,” she says dryly. “It’s been ages since I’ve seen you. Years actually.”
“Careful, girl,” I grunt. “That’s no way to talk to a paying customer.”
Her right brow cocks higher than the left. “You haven’t paid for anything yet, Killer. What’ll it be? Whiskey neat?”
I lean back in the booth and give an impressed nod. “You finally remembered.”
“I always remembered. But it was more amusing to pretend I hadn’t.”
Jhene wanders off, stopping at another table on her way back to the bar. I spend a moment watching her go.
Sean lets out a whistle. “Holy shit, Kill. What was that?”
“Don’t fucking start.”
“That banter. The eye contact. You two were flirting.”
“Sounds like you need your eyes checked.”
Sean opens his mouth, still with the grin spreading his lips wide, but he doesn’t need to utter a word to communicate what’s on his mind.
“Drop it,” I snarl. “Or I’ll drop you.”
He holds up his hands in surrender, though we both know it won’t be the last time he brings it up.
I’m half considering making good on my threat—maybe even slamming his head against the table—when the back of my neck prickles.
It’s the sensation you get when you realize you’re being watched.
I glance toward the bar and find Bridget staring.
She’s supposed to be working one of the larger tables. Some group of rowdy men out celebrating a bachelor party. They’ve all but lost her attention as she fixes me with a stare then pops on a smile.
I merely nod in answer before looking away.
“Need to take a piss,” I grunt to Sean.
I slide out of the booth and head toward the back of the pub. Bridget intercepts me halfway there.
“Hey, stranger,” she purrs, stepping into my path. “Long time no see.”
“I saw you a few days ago when I dropped by.”
“Too long for me. Besides, we haven’t had a chance to talk, and you’ve stopped texting me.”
“Been busy.”
Her brows draw closer, expression pouty. Somehow she manages to fold her arms and emphasize her generously sized breasts, the top she’s wearing V-neck and very low cut. “So you’ve been too busy for me? I missed you, tough guy. Just feels like we’ve been on opposite schedules lately.”
“I come by when I come by,” I answer stiffly. “It’s nothing personal, Bridget.”
“I know. I just hate that it seems like every time you come by, I’m not working. And every time I’m working, you don’t come by. And then tonight, when you finally do show up, she gets your table.”
The way she says she leaves no doubt who Bridget means.
“Just how it worked out.”
“Mmhmm,” she hums, unconvinced. She reaches out and squeezes at my bicep, softening her tone again. “I’ve been thinking about our date. The one at Gallagher’s. You said we’d do it again sometime.”
I glance down at her hand but don’t pull away like the last time she touched me.
That was out of instinct—I was preoccupied after learning Jhene was missing and my head had filled up with a number of different scenarios.
Finding Jhene was crucial.
More important than letting Bridget grope my junk and talk about how badly she wanted to see my studio apartment.
But I’d be liar if I said that, as my gaze lowers to her hand on my bicep, I don’t notice how good her tits look in the top she’s got on.
I’m not blind, and it’s been six weeks for me.
But I won’t be fucking anything except Darnell “The Tank” Thompson when I fuck him up in the ring at our next match.
That doesn’t mean my blood doesn’t heat up when an attractive woman like Bridget touches me and makes kissy, pouty faces.
The temptation’s there… for a second.
Then it fades as quickly as it arrived as I look back up and pick Jhene out on the bar floor. She’s returned to our table with our drinks, setting them down.
The urge to go to her strikes me. For me to return to the table so I could intercept her before she gets flagged by other customers.
I’m staring for so long Bridget gives a clear of her throat.
“A little distracted?” she asks irritably.
“More like I should get back. Drinks’ve been brought over.”
It’s as I turn away from Bridget that I catch Jhene’s gaze. She’s departing the table I’m sharing with Sean, obviously aware I was off on the sidelines with Bridget.
Her face is impassive. Damn near impossible to read.
But it’s enough to tell me all I need to know; she’s about as agitated as Bridget.
What the fuck did I do now?
The rest of the night passes with me nursing the whiskey I ordered and Sean ranting about his favorite rugby team losing the championships. The highlights on the nearby TV playing ESPN turn to professional boxing and then that occupies our conversation for the rest of the night.
The entire time I’m more distracted by the fact that Jhene avoids our table.
There’s no more banter. No more playful spark in her eyes.
Just distance and cool indifference.
When Tom finally calls last orders and the crowd starts to thin, I’m still sitting in the same booth, waiting for her shift to be over.
Sean left an hour ago, citing an early morning and Cara waiting for him in Bushwick. The bachelor party has stumbled out into the night. Even Bridget has clocked out, shooting me one last lingering look before disappearing through the back.
I’m the only one left with Tom wiping down the bar and Jhene collecting glasses from empty tables.
I push myself up from the booth and intercept her near the door.
“I’ll walk you home.”
She avoids looking at me. “You can go ahead without me. I’ll be here a while.”
“It’s past one a.m. The Bratva’s still out there. I’m walking you home.”
“I said I’m fine.”
“Go on, kid,” Tom pipes up. “I’ll handle the rest. You’ve been working hard enough for weeks now.”
Jhene almost scowls as if annoyed Tom’s sided with me, then she quickly disappears to the back to grab her things.
We bid goodnight to Tom, who’s too busy counting the register to do more than grunt in response. The street outside is quiet as we step out into the summer night air.
Jhene doesn’t say a word as we start walking.
Neither do I.
We keep it up the rest of the way home. Though it’s only a few blocks, it makes the walk feel twice as long. If I had any guess that she was upset with me before, I’m sure of it as we round the last block and come up on the apartment building.
Does she think Bridget and me were flirting? Did she see her hand on my arm and decide she didn’t like it? Why the hell would she care?
…unless it’s like Sean said, and we really do seem to have something going on.
But I’ve got no interest in Bridget. Not anymore.
Even the funny feeling in my stomach is gone whenever she’s around. When she touched me earlier tonight, I felt nothing.
I felt uninterested, as fucking bad of a case of blue balls as I’ve got. I didn’t take Bridget up on what seemed to be her suggestion.
We head up to the studio. The second the door’s unlocked, Jhene slips past me and starts gathering her change of clothes.
“I’m taking a shower,” she mutters.
Those are the only words she speaks before disappearing into the bathroom. A second later, the spray of the water ricochets off the tile walls.
I heave a disgruntled sigh and run fingers through my hair.
I’m still fucking hopeless with women. Always have been and probably always will be.
Their mood swings are confusing. One second things are fine. The next, they go silent without any warning.
Maybe it’s time to consult Maeve. She’s my baby sister, but she’s still a woman. That’s got to mean something, right?
I head over to the rollaway bed to set it up and turn in for the night.
I need to be up in four hours for training. A real session this time, not the half-assed workouts I’ve been phoning in for the past two weeks. The fight against The Tank is coming up fast, and I can’t afford to keep slacking off.
Dez is already on my ass about it, and he’s right to be.
My phone buzzes in my hand when I go to connect it to the wall charger.
At first, I ignore it. It’s late, I’m fucking tired, and I don’t have the energy to deal with whatever fresh crisis is demanding my attention.
But old habits die hard, and I am filling in as Clan Chief. It could be important clan business.
It’s a text from Sean.
Emergency at the Banshee.
There’s been a fire.
Tom was inside.