“I thought you said you didn’t want it.” She sang it while she continued to jump around and tease.
I snatched it right out of her hand.
She smirked. “That’s what I thought.”
I frowned at her and then looked at the number. Looked at the name. I wished I had the space, the capacity, to be wild for a little bit.
Be reckless and make bad choices.
But all my bad choices had already been made.
Seven
Ian
I slipped into the dark, secluded booth, the lights hazy and low in the cavernous space.
I shot off a few texts to Jace with the pictures and information he was looking for.
The building was shit.
Rundown.
Dilapidated.
The poor employees filing out at the end of the day looked every bit as bad.
Exactly what Jace was looking for. The guy took floundering businesses and buildings and spun them into gold.
Dude was legit. Had to say, I was fucking proud. So fucking proud that it made me squirrely whenever he asked me to do anything for his company. Last thing I wanted was to dirty his name. Dip my filthy fingers into something good and taint it.
Just like that girl.
That girl who was still shivering across my flesh like a warm caress.
Fuck, she was sweet. So damned different from the immediate assumptions I’d made about her when I’d seen her sitting across from me at that bar Saturday night.
It only made me all the more curious. Made me want to dig a little deeper. Get lost in the sea of those sad eyes that somehow brimmed with determination.
What was really messing with my head was the way she’d looked at me like I was some kind of savior when I’d returned that bracelet to her. Like I’d given her back something precious. Like I’d done something good.
Funny how I’d expected she’d be excited over the wallet.
The only thing she’d cared about was that bracelet that wasn’t in any better shape than that building Jace had sent me to check out. There’d been so much gratitude flooding from her that it’d made some hard part of me go soft. One warm pulse that throbbed through every inch of my body.
A shockwave.
Only got worse when she’d washed my hair. Snipped the pieces away. Touched me with those tender fingers. Her scent all around me. Like I was rolling around in a bed of sugar-coated flowers.
Lust and need and something else that I couldn’t quite decipher had hung so thick in the space between us that, for the first time in my life, a girl had made me feel like I couldn’t breathe.
Like she’d stolen it. Bottled it up and held it in the palm of those delicate hands.
That alone should have made me want to run.
And there I sat, itching to get back up, hunt her down, and sink my fingers into all that flesh.
Feel what that might be like.
That soft grace that radiated from her like the sun breaking through the clouds after a hurricane.
But even considering it was stupid.
Reckless.
That was the kind of carelessness I didn’t play partner to. I knew better than to let myself get distracted, and she’d made it clear she didn’t need any of that, either. She couldn’t afford what I wanted to take from her.
When I felt a presence approach, I set my cell on the table and glanced up to find Mirena standing over me. She was one of the cocktail waitresses who I was . . . familiar with.
“Ian Jacobs.” My name slipped out of her mouth like she was confessing a sin. “So nice to see you.”
Shit.
Obviously, the girl was serving up sarcasm today.
I dipped my head, half inclined to ask for another waitress because I definitely didn’t feel up to her brand of drama. “Mirena.”
Monty’s was my home away from home. Hell, I felt more comfortable here than behind the doors of my condo. At least here it was noisy, especially on nights like tonight when a band was set to play, Carolina George setting up to take to the stage. Dark and dim and rowdy, the energy gave the vibe that at any moment everything could slip into chaos.
A constant din of music and voices and bodies there to chase away the emptiness.
Loud enough that the ghosts had no chance of being heard.
Of course, because it was me, I’d fucked up and fucked her. Never should have given into the girl standing in front of me. I knew it the second she’d propositioned me that it was a mistake. I’d been told you should never shit where you eat. Should have taken up that advice for where I drank, too.
“What can I get for you tonight?” She was close to purring when she said it before she shook her head and released an angry chuckle. She leaned forward and tossed a cocktail napkin down in front of me and started talking before I had the chance to respond.
“Wait, let me guess. Scotch. Double. On the rocks. Because you like your liquor just as cold as your heart. Whatever leggy brunette walks through the door wearing a slinky dress. Or maybe you’re in the mood for a blonde? What is it that’s on the menu for tonight?”
She hadn’t let it go. I wasn’t really sure what she’d been expecting, a marriage proposal or a date or maybe she’d just wanted it twice.
If she knew me so well, she should have known none of those things were going to happen.
But she’d gotten one thing right. I was in the mood for a blonde. But the one I was thirsting for was the last thing I needed.
I tossed a smirk Mirena’s direction, needing her to know there wasn’t going to be a repeat. “How about one of each? I am in the mood for a little . . . variety.”
She scoffed. “Of course, you’d want it all. Stupid me.”
Her smile was brittle. Filled with regret and a shot of hurt. I refused the impulse to feel bad. I wasn’t going to fucking coddle her when she knew just as well as I did that when I’d followed her home that night we were really going nowhere.
“Why don’t we just start off the night with that scotch?” I told her, willing to say anything to get her out of there.
“Bluebird for me,” the gruff voice came from behind her. Caught off guard, she shrieked, and then she whirled around as a true smile spread across her face.
“Mack. Where have you been all my life, handsome?” Her voice had gone easy. Because that’s just the way he made people feel.
Comfortable.
Like any situation was going to turn out better when he was involved.
He was the ultimate protector.
Big and mean and probably the softest dude I’d ever met. Had no fucking clue how we were friends. The guy was always there for me when I sure as hell didn’t deserve it. Watching me, ready to rush in and save my ass if I got too deep.
But there were some things we just couldn’t be saved from.
My bear of a best friend slipped into the side of the booth opposite me. He ran a tattooed hand down the scruff on his face and pushed out a sigh like he was leaving behind a grueling day, all of his ink out and on display.
He chalked it up to being undercover in his early days.
I knew better.
He gave her a massive grin. “Lookin’ for you, gorgeous. What else would I be doing here?”
“Drinking your weight in beer?” she deadpanned.
Yeah. I guess she did know us well.
He laughed and sent her a smirk. “You think so little of me. I take offense to that.” Mischief gleamed in his blue eyes. “And here I thought you’d be happy to see me.”
“Oh, I’m always happy to see you.” She rubbed his massive arm. “And don’t you dare think I’m judging you. You deserve it. Tell me how many bad guys you put in cuffs today? That’s how many beers I’ll bring you. How’s that sound?”
“Ah, well there’s never any shortage of them, that’s for sure.”
Didn’t I know it.
He lifted one side of his mouth. Looking at the guy, it was hard to tell if he was a monster or a huge-ass teddy bear. Dude could win over a surly DMV agent with a grin and a wink of his eye and then turn right around and make a calloused criminal piss his pants.
You’d think women would go running from that thick shell of intimidation, but they flocked to him like he was some kind of inked-up Mecca.
That was the thing about Mack, though. He’d gone through as much bad shit as the rest of us. Still, he’d managed to come out of it wearing a smile on his face. But there was a layer underneath that he didn’t let anyone else see.