Chapter 15
“We need more shots!” Kat yells as she motions for me to follow. She keeps talking, but I can’t hear a word over the music wailing across the small dive bar Bex and the Danforth sisters have dragged me to tonight.
“What?” I yell.
Bex chimes in, and both she and Kat dip their heads back and scream, “Tequila!”
More tequila .
My stomach does a dip and my head spins, but I tread after them.
I’m a pretty good drinker, but these two have me beat.
I hit my limit about an hour ago. Around the time Triss bailed, wishing me luck as she pulled on Jack’s helmet and jumped on the back of his Harley.
Jack barely looked at me. And only said stay out of trouble, Gracie before peeling onto the street and gunning it towards their end of town.
Stay out of trouble.
Please. Who the hell is he to tell me to stay out of trouble? I’ve been home almost two weeks, and the man has barely spoken to me. He’s lost his right to play big brother.
Kat hands me a shot of clear liquid and raises hers. “To the Sinner Sisters!”
Bex adds, “Knock ’em dead!”
They look at me, eyes wide, waiting for me to add the last line of their mantra.
Chest tight, I laugh. “And put ’em on their knees!”
We smash our glasses together, and I down the shot, eyes shut as I will the alcohol burning a trail down my esophagus to make it to my stomach and stay there.
Another wave of dizziness hits me, and I let out a deep breath. Yeah, I’m definitely at my limit.
The bar explodes with an eardrum-shattering roar as the band kicks off the first few notes of “Bitch” by Meredith Brooks.
With a squeal, Kat grabs me by the hand and yanks me towards the small stage, where the lead singer, an Alanis Morissette look-alike, is already belting out the chorus.
Kat and Bex shout out the anthem, and I scream it with them, losing myself in the song, the bounce of the crowd, the two women bumping shoulders with me.
Tonight has been bittersweet. Lots of food, drinking, dancing, and laughing. On the flip side, it’s shown me everything I lost when I left this place. Weirdness between Jack and me aside, I want to keep this. I want to be a part of the life the Sinners have built here. This family.
The band hits its final note—a long, deafening wail of a guitar—and the crowd erupts. With a dramatic twirl, Bex proclaims she’s going to get more shots.
God. Please no. I need some air.
I point to the back door, and Kat shakes her head, mouthing that horrible word again. Tequila.
These girls are fucking hardcore.
I again motion to the door, yelling that I’ll be back. Then I quickly turn away from the women who are trying to drink me into an early grave. If that smell hits my nose again, I’m certain all the liquor I just forced down my throat will come right back up.
I bulldoze my way through the throng of people, hyper focused on that door, on my escape from the bouncing bodies and the blaring bass and the nachos swaying heavy in my stomach.
The second the cool night air hits my face, I suck a big gulp into my lungs. My nausea recedes, and as I lean against the brick wall and take in another big breath, relief washes over me.
The alleyway next to the bar is narrow and dimly lit by a string of lights hung above small wooden tables topped with ashtrays.
The back of the area is lined with wooden fencing, the front with a small wooden gate spanning the space between the bar and the building beside it.
Out here, a few small groups of people mill around, laughing, drinking, smoking.
A mix of weed and tobacco hits my nose, and my stomach lurches again.
I need to lie down.
With a deep breath, I look out at the street, searching for that unfriendly face.
The Raiders’ enforcer hasn’t let up on his attempts to track me down.
Anticipation and unease are my constant companions.
Day after day, I wait to find myself falling into his grasp, but he’s been cautious, keeping his distance, taunting me from afar.
That’s what this man does. Tortures and torments, has you running scared.
Then, when you least expect it, he pounces.
He’s a tall, dark figure standing in the shadows.
A menacing smile in a crowd. Watching. Waiting.
And then he strikes. Like this morning, when he sent a very graphic text detailing exactly where he wanted to shove his knife.
I shudder. What I actually need is a distraction.
Me:
Find your keys?
Decker has been suspiciously silent since our altercation in that field. But after that kiss, it’s taken effort for me to do the same. He said my pretty ass would be his. What the hell does that even mean?
Decker:
Not a lot of reasons to be messaging a man at 1 a.m., Grace. You might have me thinking you want something from me.
Me:
Maybe I do.
Three dots jump at the bottom of the screen and then disappear. Then, for a long minute, nothing. As if he’s thinking on what to say. Then they’re back. Those three dots. Six, actually, with the double vision. Fuck tequila.
Decker:
And what would that be?
Me:
You. Half naked in a field.
Decker:
Not falling for that again.
Me:
That’s wise. Also. You still have something of mine. I’d like that back soon.
Decker:
No.
Are you drunk?
Me:
Why would you assume that?
Decker:
Because I need a fucking cipher to figure out your texts.
With a thumb on the screen, I scroll up and scan through our chat. Sure enough, most of the messages I’ve sent are… well, they’re messy. Messy like how I’m feeling right now. I respond with a single word.
Me:
Tequuuilllaaa!
Decker:
Where are you?
Me:
Like I’d tell you that.
Decker:
Clubhouse?
Me:
No.
Decker:
Are you alone?
Me:
With Bex and Kat.
Decker:
Oh, there’s a brilliant pair. No wonder you’re so fucked up. I’m coming to get you.
Me:
No the fuck you aren’t. Night, Decker.
Decker:
Grace.
A thrill rushes through me. I can practically hear the growl coming through my phone. Next comes a flurry of messages, each angrier than the last.
Decker:
Answer my texts, Grace. I’m getting tired of talking to myself.
Me:
But ignoring you is so much more fun.
Decker:
Keep at it, and you won’t like what I do when I find you.
Me:
Oh yeah? And what might that be?
Decker:
Like I said. You won’t like it.
Me:
I bet I will.
Another long pause. A million jumping dots. I close one eye, trying to focus, to shrink them back to their rightful number.
“That you, Gracie?”
At the sound of my name, I look up. My instinct to bolt quickly fizzles when a face I recognize splits into a big grin. Slicked-back shoulder-length dark blond hair, blue eyes, killer smile. And like most of the Sinners, tall, muscular, and a bit rough around the edges.
Smiling, I pocket my phone. “Hey, Tex. What are you doing so far from the clubhouse on a Friday night?”
“Just doing a little”—his focus drags to a pretty blond girl slinking past us—“sightseeing.”
The sights being the flood of female tourists looking for that last hoorah before leaving town after the festival wraps up tomorrow.
“You better get after it, then.” I nod to the door. “Last call soon. Wouldn’t want to hold you up.”
With another one of his pretty smiles, he steps closer, eyes dropping to my tits. “Oh, I’d much rather be talking to you. Looked like you were having fun in there. Those hips were doing a lot of work.”
I snort. “Absolutely not happening.”
“Oh, come on. You’re hot. I’m hot.” He grasps my hip, and suddenly, I’m pressed between him and the cold brick of the building. “I’m a lot of fun. Let me put something exciting between your legs.”
I can’t help but bark out a laugh. What a line. I’d almost be impressed if I hadn’t heard those exact words from every biker I’ve crossed looking to get laid. Tex cocks his head, amusement sparking in his eyes.
“Very original,” I say. “I’m not getting on your bike either.”
“Why not? I’d give you a good ride. On the pavement and after,” he says with a wink.
With a hand pressed to his muscular chest, I push him back. He doesn’t resist, but that smile of his doesn’t fade either.
“We don’t have to tell him, you know. Graves. I can keep a secret.”
A snort escapes me without my permission. “You think that’s why I don’t want to fuck you? Because of my brother?”
He shrugs. “Isn’t it? I mean, look at me.” He lifts his shirt, revealing a tight washboard stomach covered in tattoos and those pretty lines of muscle disappearing into his pants.
The giggle that slips from my mouth is involuntary, but once it starts, I can’t push it back in. For a second, Tex actually looks offended.
I clear my throat, trying to suppress my laughter. “I appreciate the show, Magic Mike, but you’re not my type.”
Another easy laugh. “I’m everyone’s type.”
“Hard pass.”
Grinning, he throws his hand up in surrender. “All right, all right. Offer still stands, though, if you ever wanna take me for a spin.”
As he disappears through the door to the bar, I shout, “Don’t hold your breath.”
“You sure you don’t want to take him up on that?” a deep, irritated voice asks.
I jump and whirl around, finding Decker standing a few feet from me. Deep scowl, amber eyes narrowed, jaw tight.
“Jesus, Linc.” I slap a hand to my chest. “Where the hell did you come from? And how’d you find me?”
He motions to the wooden gate that exits onto the street. “I’m a cop, Grace. I know how to put two and two together. The two being your new friends. Bex and Kat only party at a few places in town, and you said you weren’t at the clubhouse.”
He does one of those slow scans of my body. Head cocked, eyes wandering, pausing at all his favourite places—hips, tits, throat. He runs his tongue over his bottom lip, and in response, my body heats.
I bite down on my smile. Decker really needs to stop fucking looking at me like that. I am too drunk for this shit. This much liquor in my system, and a look like that will have me taking my clothes off with very little coaxing.