Chapter Six #2
He raked a hand through his hair as the door to The Ruckus slammed behind him. They weren’t even fighting this time, but things were getting weird. Emotional… uncomfortable… And his craving for her was getting stronger than ever.
Damn, he was a head case.
A brisk breeze hit him, and he hunched deeper into his jacket. He needed to find an engine to work on, something old and greasy and rusted. Because, God knew, he needed to fix some things.
* * * * *
Roxie was cranky. Cranky in the sense of being grumpy, tired, and sexually frustrated.
She still wasn’t sure what had gone down with Billy earlier today.
He’d nearly melted her kneecaps before things had come to an abrupt halt, and she wasn’t one who dealt with teasing well—especially after she’d climbed upstairs to her apartment, in stocking feet mind you, and had found evidence of him there, too.
The bed had still been rumpled, and the sheets had smelled like his cologne.
He’d made her ache, damn him, and then he’d screwed with her head.
If there was one surefire way to piss her off, that was it.
Problem was, right now she had to be pleasant.
“I’m sorry about the noise out there,” she said as affably as she could muster through clenched teeth. The bar was busy, and she wanted to keep it that way, so she led her visitors into her office. They weren’t unexpected, but they certainly weren’t making her day any better.
She placed herself behind her desk in a conscious power move. “Now, what is all this about a complaint?”
She stared calmly at the two men standing across from her.
Both wore all black, with shiny metal badges.
One wore his clipped onto his belt, while the younger one pinned his proudly onto his chest. She could wind the newbie around her pinkie.
It was the older one, the one built like a tank with a crisp crew cut that concerned her.
“Some kind of disturbance?” she said sweetly.
She didn’t really need to ask. The prudish librarian had called in to complain.
Probably because her boobs weren’t as nice as Roxie’s.
Roxie stood a little straighter, arching her back. The bar area was so warm, she’d stripped down to her black tank top. Hey, if you got ’em, flaunt ’em.
She saw the way the younger cop’s eyes widened and then flashed determinedly back to his notepad.
“We had a report of a woman matching your description disrupting traffic on I-67,” he said, reading his notes. “This woman had climbed the billboard your establishment has posted near the bridge.”
A woman. Singular. Well, that was the first thing that had gone right today.
“Oh, that?” She gave her best innocent look. “It was just a little publicity stunt. We had our grand reopening yesterday.”
She smiled and gestured back towards the bar as the beat from the jukebox thumped through the walls. As she’d predicted, the place was packed tonight.
So packed, it was giving even her a headache.
But wait, it had been Billy who’d caused that. The fink. The sexy, bad boy, so-gorgeous-he-made-her-sigh fink.
A growl bubbled up in her throat, but she quickly caught herself.
“You can’t go around climbing billboards, Ms. Cannon,” Officer Crew Cut said firmly. “You could have caused an accident by distracting all those motorists.”
Like drivers hadn’t been distracted by that billboard for months. Tilting her head, Roxie let her hair fall forward. “Could you tell me what exactly the caller said I did?” she asked, winding a curl around her finger.
The young officer’s cheeks flared red. “She claimed you…” He coughed. “Exposed your… ahem… breasts in public.”
Roxie let her eyes widen just enough. “Oh, no. That didn’t happen.”
Technically, her curves had been covered by her bra. Her good hot pink one, in fact. She was wearing it even as they spoke.
Acting embarrassed, she folded her arms over her chest, but discretely plumped her curves even higher. “The caller must have been talking about the billboard itself. You see, my… breasts are rather exposed in that big, detailed, laser-printed image.”
She let her eyelids go heavy. “Have you seen it?”
Oh yeah, they’d seen it. The young cop blushed red, but the older one’s eyes narrowed. Roxie’s antenna went on the alert, worried that she’d pushed the act too far, before she saw the hint of a smile on his hard face.
She decided to take a chance she probably shouldn’t. “In fact, my sisters have been begging me to have the sign company cover me up better.”
She waved a hand in front of her face. “I’m so embarrassed.”
“No, no. Don’t be,” the earnest young cop said quickly. He hadn’t been able to tear his gaze away from her chest ever since she’d crossed her arms.
“Sisters?” the older cop asked.
Just as she’d hoped he would.
She turned around a picture on her desk to face him. Smiling at the officers now were three happy brunettes with brown eyes, slender figures, and matching pearly whites.
Crew Cut frowned.
“Wow, you all look so much alike,” the newbie said, his brow furrowing.
Roxie stroked her fingers over the top of the photo’s frame. “That’s because we’re identical triplets.”
The grizzled cop let out a grunt. In some galaxy, it might even have been considered a laugh.
“Identical…” The younger man was not following.
Roxie met the older cop’s gaze. He really was sexy in that tough, don’t mess with me, sort of way.
Humor definitely lit his eyes. He knew what was what, but he also knew his time would be better served investigating some of the scroungier drinkers out in the main bar area.
“We can’t prove it was her,” he explained to the younger man.
“But… it was probably one of them…”
The sunny expression slipped from Roxie’s face, and she planted her hands on her hips. “It was me.”
“We’re going to let you go with a warning,” the veteran said right over her.
Roxie was tired of flirting and acting as if she wasn’t in the mood to rip out a wolverine’s throat. There was no way she was going to drag her sisters into this mess. Cam would have a freaking fit, and Zac would put up with ribbing for months.
“But…” The young pup was dying to up his arrest record. The intent was clear on his face.
She’d judged the two poorly. She never would have made that mistake if her head was on right.
“Stay away from the billboard, Ms. Cannon,” Crew Cut said. Shaking his head, he took the notebook out of the trainee’s hand and stuffed it back into the kid’s chest pocket.
“But…”
“Yes, sir.” Roxie knew when to take a cue. She smiled her most beatific smile, the one she saved strictly for cops who let her off. “I appreciate that, Officer.”
She rounded her desk and opened the door before he could change his mind. Crew Cut was ready to go, and she wasn’t going to stop him. “I’m sorry if I inconvenienced the two of you, having to drive out here.”
She was already ushering the pair through the kitchen and back into the bar. The smell of bar food and beer permeated the air. The beat of the music got louder, and the bass notes were joined by a hard-driving melody when they stepped through the swinging doors.
Crew Cut looked around the bar. “No worries. We’ll probably be back later.”
Roxie sent out warning messages with her glare as she cut through the crowd with her police escort.
No doubt about that. The feel of the place was energized, but it wasn’t the celebratory mood of the night before.
The bar was cruising for a bruising tonight, she could feel it, but she wanted any altercations to happen off the premises.
Turning, she smiled at Cobalt City’s best. “Please come back sometime during your off hours. I’d be happy to—”
The words cut off when she spotted someone glowering at her, someone who took her day from bad to craptastic. The blond GQ model wannabe took a step towards her with fire in his eyes, but she stopped him with an abrupt “zip it” gesture.
“Buy you a drink,” she finished, plastering that smile back on her face. She looked quickly at their badges. “Officers Kern and Russell. On the house. Skeeter?”
The bouncer was at her side in an instant. Nobody in a biker bar liked cops. They made people itchy. The bouncer escorted the policemen to the door and Roxie turned, bracing herself with her feet spread wide. The fact that her toes hurt in an old pair of boots didn’t help her attitude.
“Where are they going?” Landers Underhill said, pouncing on her like a barracuda that smelled blood. “They should be taking you in.”
“Shush it, daddy’s boy,” Roxie hissed, making a slashing movement with her hand, “unless you want to drag Lexie into this.”
The last thing she needed was for Lexie’s brother to stick his nose into the mess.
“Me drag Lexie into it?” he snarled, although his volume did turn down a notch. “You’re the one who’s dragging her down in the gutter every time I turn around. Did you see the news? There’s a reporter and video crew out there right now. You’re making that damn billboard their lead story again.”
“So?” Roxie growled, cocking her head. “That’s my business.”
“You know it’s not. With that face, every time you get into trouble, you drag Lexie and the Underhills right along with you. It happened with that newspaper story, and it’s happening again.”
“Is it?” Roxie said, hair swinging as she took a step forward. Her entire body vibrated with anger. “To my memory, that newspaper story didn’t affect Underhill Associates one bit. You just took it out on Lexie.”
“Our stock price took a hit. We sell educational children’s toys. We can’t be associated with that filthy billboard.”
Filthy? Roxie’s jaw tightened a notch. “Your company lost value because it lost its Marketing VP.”
She narrowed her eyes when a thought occurred to her. “Or is that what this is really all about? You losing Lexie as your Girl Friday?”
A swath of perfectly cut blond hair swung forward onto the pretty boy’s forehead. “She’s my sister more than she is yours. Ever since you showed up, you’ve been nothing but trouble for her.”