Chapter One #2
The woman laughed, a sound both musical and dangerous.
“Hey. I just wanted enough to make sure I could pay my bar tab.” She collected her winnings, folding the bills with nimble fingers before tucking them away inside her bra.
I noticed she kept her back to the wall, her eyes never staying in one place too long. “Another round?”
Her challenge hung in the air, sharp as the darts she’d just thrown.
The bikers glanced at each other, wounded pride warring with the knowledge they were outmatched.
The bearded one narrowed his eyes. I knew this guy wasn’t going to give up.
I wasn’t sure if it was because he didn’t like getting beaten by a girl, or if he simply wanted her company a little while longer.
“You hustling us?” he asked, stepping closer to her.
She didn’t back away. Just tipped her head back and looked up at the massive guy. “It’s only a hustle if I lied about my skills.” Her smile widened, showing teeth. “I never claimed to be bad at darts. In fact, I think I told you from the start I wouldn’t lose.”
The tension stretched between them like a rubber band pulled to breaking.
My grip tightened around my glass, knuckles whitening with pressure.
I should mind my own business, stay in my corner with my whiskey and my silence.
But there was something about her, something in the fearless way she stood her ground against men twice her size that pulled at me.
Fascination had me headed in their direction before I’d made a conscious decision to move.
The woman’s eyes flicked to me for an instant, assessing, then returned to the bikers surrounding her.
That brief look held no plea for help, no fear, only a calculating intelligence that seemed to categorize me as an interesting new variable in her game.
I didn’t know her name but as I took that first step toward her, something inside me recognized what was happening. I was walking toward trouble with my eyes wide open, and for the first time in longer than I could remember, I felt truly alive.
Finally, the guys burst out laughing. The bearded one stuck out his hand to her. “You’re all right, girl. I like you. What’s your name?”
“Darby.”
She took his hand, grinning up at the big guy.
I wanted to separate her from the other male, but he wasn’t threatening her.
While I didn’t know Butch personally, I knew the club he represented.
They might play hard, but they never abused women.
Their president would have their patch as well as their lives.
I watched as she accepted an unopened bottle of beer from one of the other men. She twisted off the top and clinked bottles before moving deeper into the bar. And like a creeper, I followed her.
She’d moved on to new targets. I got the impression this was all for fun, not the need or even want of money.
She approached a pool table where four men were in the middle of a game.
She didn’t interrupt, just watched with apparent admiration as one lined up a difficult shot.
When he made it, her applause was enough to make him stand taller, enough to make his opponent narrow his eyes.
Realizing she didn't need my help, I stepped back to the bar to watch from a distance.
“Lucky shot,” the guy said.
“Doesn’t look like luck to me,” Darby countered. “Looked like skill.”
Two simple sentences, and suddenly the game wasn’t friendly anymore. Stakes had been raised without money changing hands. The pool player preened under her attention, taking more risks with his next shot. When he missed, Darby had already shifted her smile to his opponent.
Mike appeared at my side, setting down another whiskey I hadn’t ordered.
“On the house,” he said, his voice gravelly from years of shouting over music. His eyes followed my gaze to Darby. “That one’s trouble.”
I picked up the fresh glass. “What kind of trouble?” I have no idea why I asked. Because I most definitely knew the answer on my own.
“The kind that follows you home and burns your life down while you thank her for the warmth.” He wiped his hands on a rag tucked into his belt.
“Seen her type before. Never stays anywhere long. Just long enough to leave wreckage behind.” He snorted.
“Usually in a trail of broken hearts. And that’s including the fuckin’ hardcases in this place. ”
“I should find that hard to believe.” I couldn’t seem to take my gaze from her. I had the feeling Mike was having the same problem.
“But you don’t.”
“Not in the least.”
There was something mesmerizing about watching someone so deliberately create chaos, like watching a demolition expert place charges in exactly the right spots to bring down a building.
The thing was, no one got angry. Not at her.
In fact, no matter what she did or said, the guys all seemed to eat out of her hand. Until she disappeared.
Darby continued her circuit of the bar. By now, I could spot her pattern.
She would approach a group, insert herself briefly into their dynamic, find the fault lines in their relationships, apply pressure, and then ghost away before the fractures became breaks.
Behind her, conversations grew louder, gestures more animated.
A beer bottle smashed against the floor. A chair scraped back too quickly.
She was gone before the first punch was thrown.
As the two men who’d been friends all night suddenly found reason to start shoving each other, she flashed a cocky smile and turned away from the group.
The bartender sighed heavily and moved out from behind the counter, heading toward the brewing fight.
I should have been repelled. Any sane person would recognize the danger she represented, this woman who created discord for sport or profit or reasons I couldn’t begin to guess.
Instead, there was something in her that called to something deep inside me I didn’t know existed.
I knew she was baiting a trap. Convinced myself I was the prey she was after when I wasn’t even sure I was on her radar.
The bartender’s warning echoed in my head.
She was definitely trouble, and she wore a crooked smile that promised the kind of excitement that had been absent from my life for too long.
Even the paid encounters after I got out of prison hadn’t given me this much of a thrill.
And I hadn’t even spoken to her yet. Hadn’t caught her attention at all.
A fight broke out in earnest near the pool tables, the sound of bodies hitting walls punctuating the heavy metal music.
The bartender and a bouncer I hadn’t noticed before moved to contain it, providing Darby with the perfect distraction.
She slipped through the crowd toward the darkened hallway that led to the restrooms and back exit, her work apparently completed for the night.
But she paused before disappearing. Across the bar, through the smoky chaos she’d orchestrated, Darby locked eyes with me.
No surprise registered on her face at my continued attention.
Instead, a flicker of amusement crossed her features.
She raised an eyebrow in challenge, as if to ask what I planned to do with my observations.
The unspoken question hung between us, cutting through the smoke and noise and distance.
Stay safely at the bar, or follow the trouble where it led?
Considering the mass of violent chaos erupting, the fact I felt safer in that bar than following Darby told me all I needed to know about the choice I was getting ready to make.
The whiskey in my glass reflected the red neon above, looking for all the world like blood.
I drained it in one burning swallow and set the empty glass down with a decisive click against the worn wood.
I pulled out a couple of twenties and set them on the bar to pay my tab.
I pushed off from the bar, moving with purpose toward the woman who had just orchestrated a barroom brawl with effortless ease.
I was so fucked. And looking fucking forward to it.