Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
DEUCE
“Who was in here?” I scan the room, taking every inch in.
“No one.”
“Was it Viper?”
Behind her, a small fire is sparking in the microwave.
“What the hell?” I barge past her, whip open the microwave door, grab the flaming bag of popcorn, pitch it into the sink, and douse it with water.
“I guess I left it in the microwave too long.”
“Ya think? Shit, you could’ve burned the whole place down.”
“Don’t be so dramatic. It was only a spark.”
“A spark?” I point to the blackened bag smoldering in the sink. “Hate to tell you, but that was a fire, babe.”
She jerks her head to the gun at my side. “I’ve heard of bringing a knife to a gunfight, but never a gun to a fire.” She ends with an annoying smirk.
“Don’t be a wiseass. I heard you scream, and I thought—”
“You thought you’d come in here and blow their head off?” She rolls her eyes toward the ceiling. “Talk about overkill.”
“You can’t be too careful ‘cause Viper threatened both of us.”
“Viper hasn’t been around in weeks. I think he’s gotten the message.”
“Guys like Viper never get the message until they’re in the ground.”
“Typical reaction.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” I lean against the counter as adrenaline courses through my body, then I flip the safety lever and shove the gun into the small of my back.
“It means, typical thug mentality.” She slams her hands on her hips. “Jump first, ask questions later.”
“I sure didn’t hear you complaining when he was roughing you up and I saved your ass.”
“Saved my ass?” Her spine stiffens, and I’m close enough to see the rise and fall of her chest and the shadow of her nipples in the sheer tank top. “Is that the way you saw it? ‘Cause I was handling it.”
“Really? What I saw was him pushing you around, and since he outweighs you by about a hundred pounds, I don’t think it would’ve ended well or that you’d have much of a chance.”
“You’re impossible.” She spins away from me and grabs the soggy bag of popcorn out of the sink. Of course, I notice how her booty shorts outline her ass perfectly when she bends over to throw it in the trash.
“I’m impossible.” I shake my head. “You walk around like you’re too good for all of us. Eating in your room every night. Even tonight, you make a bangin’ good fuckin’ meal, and you take yours up here.”
“Why do you care what I do, or where I eat?”
“I don’t.” Big fuckin’ lie. “I just don’t understand it.”
“You don’t have to understand it.”
I move closer, and she plasters herself against the kitchen counter.
“You don’t always have to be so tough, ya know.” I take a half step closer, but she doesn’t move.
My lips curve into a grin, and she scowls harder. We assess each other—the silence thick and charged.
I reach out, not to touch her, but to shut the faucet off in the sink. “Not good to waste water.”
Her eyes follow my hand, then travel back to my face. I take a half step back and let my eyes run over her. “Way different than the way you dress downstairs.”
“That’s because I’m in the privacy of my room. Or at least I thought I was until you broke my door in.”
“I thought you were in trouble.”
“Well, you were wrong.”
“Not entirely.” I nod toward the microwave. “I did put out a fire.”
“Hardly a fire.”
“Your dinner was good tonight.” My abrupt change of subject throws her for a second. “The guys really enjoyed it.”
“Like I said, they’ve been working hard, and The End should be opening soon. It’s the least I could do.”
“Looks like we’re all gonna get something out of this deal.” My eyes linger on her lips, but she doesn’t react.
“I just want to work and make a profit, or at least a living.”
“I just want a place the Kings can call their own, and you don’t have to worry about the other guys moving in here. They’ve got their own places, and fixing the second floor isn’t a priority.”
“And you?”
“And me what?” I know exactly what she’s asking, but shit, I’m gonna make her work for it.
“Are you staying or going?”
“Not sure.” Another total lie. The demons of hell couldn’t get me outta here. “You got an opinion on it?”
“No,” she snaps out way too fast. “I mean, you should do what you want.”
“Do what I want?” I’m sure she doesn’t mean it ‘cause I’d have her flat on her back with those booty shorts around her ankle monitor.
“No one’s stopping you.” Her dark eyes sear into mine.
Is she saying what I think she’s saying?
“That hasn’t been an option for me in a long-ass time.” I should leave now.
I don’t.
Sammie stays stone-still. Daring me?
“Maybe it’s time for a change.”
We’re still close enough for me to feel the heat of her body.
My fingers itch to wrap the soft curls of her hair around them, now loose and twisting around her shoulders.
I slowly reach out and gently wind the end of her hair around my forefinger, gauging her reaction.
Testing her. Asking without words. She doesn’t pull away.
A second later, she steps closer. Consent.
I tug on the random strand. “Beautiful and wild.” Then I brush away the curls and lean in close to her ear. “Just like you.”
Her head tips back slightly, exposing her throat. The move is instinctive. Unconscious. Dangerous.
I freeze.
Because I know that posture. I know that look on her face. I also know this is a bad fuckin’ idea.
She twists her head slightly. “I know you want to kiss me.”
“If I kiss you,” I say, low and controlled, “everything changes.” I brace my hand against the sink, caging her in on one side.
She follows my hand, then her eyes lift to mine. “How?”
“You become mine, and what happened in the kitchen today with Speed never happens again.”
“That’s called flirting.” Her teasing smile doesn’t cut through my frown. “And there’s nothing wrong with it.”
“No, that’s called bullshit, and it doesn’t happen if you belong to me.”
“Belong to you? How did a simple kiss turn into me belonging to you?”
“Because you and I both know it won’t end with a kiss, and whatever this is between us isn’t simple.” I cup her hip. “I knew it from the first time in the office when you were slamming the shit outta that safe—and I think you did too.”
“Maybe.”
“No maybe. Remember you were the one who came on to me,” I remind her.
Her gaze cuts to the left. “Right, after a few shots of bourbon and a run-in with Viper.”
“Don’t blame it on the bourbon. And don’t put my name in the same sentence as Viper.” I tuck my forefinger under her chin, forcing her to look at me.
“You didn’t put up too much of a fight.”
“You are everything I don’t need right now.”
“If that’s your come-on line, it really needs work.”
I huff out a soft laugh. “And you got a ballsy sense of humor that lights me up.”
“Really?” She licks her lower lip, and I can almost taste her sweetness.
I dip my chin, and she shivers slightly. She angles her head, and I feel her breath against my face.
“Never felt like this before, Cinzia.”
Her eyes widen, and her lips part. I wrap both hands around her waist as our lips touch, and we both jolt apart.
“What was that?” Sammie whispers.
“I don’t know.” I pull the gun out of the waist of my jeans and instinctively put her behind me. “It came from downstairs. Stay here.”
She flails her arm at the busted door hanging off its hinges. “No way. I’m going with you.”
In five large steps, I’m at the door. She’s right. I smashed it so hard, I can barely right it.
“Then stay up here and let me see what’s going on.”
“I’m not staying up here by myself.”
“Geez, fuck, woman. You are a pain in my ass.”
“Not what you said two seconds ago.”
I narrow my eyes, but it doesn’t make her back down. “Just stay behind me.”
She nods, and I know that’s all I’ll get as agreement.
Every creak of the wooden stairs under my boots fires up another nerve. When we reach the bottom, I stop and turn to her. “I’m not fuckin’ around. Stay here.” I’m shocked when she nods.
I enter the hallway, and glass crunches under my heel.
I press my back against the wall and inch my way to the main room.
The single light under the bar glistens over more broken glass.
When I get to the end of the hallway, I pause, adjust my position, then reach around and hit the main light switch Shady just installed.
The room explodes with light, and it takes a few seconds for my eyes to adjust. I do a silent count and spin around the wall, gun cocked and ready.
I take in the whole room. Empty. I advance over the newly installed wood flooring still littered with random cuts of planking.
I cover every inch, then turn to see Sammie inspecting the damage behind the bar.
“Crazy, they only broke some of the glasses.”
“They did a quick in and out. Just enough to let us know they were here. Just enough to fuck with us.”
When I’m satisfied there’s no one in the main room, I check the new door we installed to find it locked, then join Sammie at the bar.
“Stay here, I’m gonna check the office and the bathrooms.”
She grabs the broom and dust pan. “Can’t believe I’m sweeping up more glass, and we haven’t even opened yet.”
I’m halfway down the hallway before what her words sink in. I push open the men’s room door and bang open the stalls. Empty. Women’s room. Empty. At the office door, I twist the knob, fling it open, step to the side, then lean around the doorjamb, gun drawn, and freeze.
The plywood we use as a table has toppled off the sawhorses, and the meat tenderizer I used as a gavel is on the floor, along with a smashed bottle of Jack and some shot glasses. My gaze rises, and my heart jacks up. “Rabid Dogs” is scrawled over the wall in spray paint.
I pull out my phone and call Shady, who had the first shift and should be outside. The phone rings three times before he answers, “Hey.”
“What the fuck is goin on?”
“Nothing. Why?”
“Somebody trashed the office.”
“I’ve been checking both the back and the front since I got out here. I didn’t see anybody.”
“Well, the damn table didn’t turn itself over.” I swipe the call away, then right the table, stepping over the broken glass and a puddle of whiskey, purposely averting my eyes away from the wall.
When I get to the back door, I heave it open, then realize it wasn’t locked. I know it was locked when I went upstairs. I slam the door, lock it, then storm through the bar.
“What’s the matter?” Sammie calls after me.
I unlock and yank open the front door just as Shady lights his cig. He jumps, and I bellow, “The back door was unlocked.”
“Everything was locked up when I came out here,” Shady says. “I didn’t see anything.”
“That son of a bitch, Viper, sent one of his lackeys to fuck with us.” I barrel back through the door and head behind the bar, where I uncork the bottle of Blanton’s, pour a shot, and down it.
Then it hits me. Whoever was here didn’t do a thorough job.
Smashing some glasses, but not the booze.
Wrecking the office and leaving their calling card on the wall.
Like he’s sending me a warning of what’s to come.