Home > Crank (The Gibson Boys #1)(13)

Crank (The Gibson Boys #1)(13)
Author: Adriana Locke

A touch of surprise floats across his features as that sinks in. “Not even wine? Don’t all women drink wine?”

“Not me. I don’t care for the taste of it, to be honest. And I really hate the feeling of not being clear-headed. If I drink, I’m home with my friends or sister or something.” Biting my lip, considering how that makes me sound, I make a face. “Guess I’m not much fun, huh?”

He leans forward again, his cologne drifting my way. A shiver trickles down my spine as I sit under his heavy, wonderful gaze. “I think fun can be described a lot of ways. Alcohol usually takes a lot of that out of the equation.”

“What about you?” I ask, needing the focus off me for a moment.

“What about me?”

“Are you fun?”

He does this half-snort, half-chuckle thing that only increases my curiosity.

“What’s that about?” I poke, picking up one of the bottles and sloshing the mouthful or two left around.

“Why are you so full of questions?”

Placing the bottle in the middle of the table, I contemplate my choices. Sit here and let him navigate the conversation or walk away for a bit and let him come to me.

Decision made, I stand. “No more questions. See ya later.”

I flash a smile at his slightly puzzled reaction and walk away before I change my mind.

There are a few more people now than before, and by the time I reach the bar, I can’t spot either Delaney or Peck. Machlan is still behind the bar, wiping up a spilled drink.

“Hey,” I say, taking a seat on an empty stool. “Did Peck order me a drink?”

“Nope. What do you want?”

“Something colorful, light on alcohol, but fun?”

“Fun is my specialty,” he winks, heading off towards the blender.

His back flexes and pulls as he works the bar, grabbing bottles and scooping ice. He reminds me of Walker in a lot of ways, but lacks that mystery that drives me insane.

“Why do you do this to yourself?” I mutter, turning in my seat only to bump into someone beside me.

Blond hair, emerald eyes, and teeth so perfectly straight they have to have been designed by a dentist smile back at me. “Well, hello,” he drawls. “Haven’t seen you before.”

“Not from here,” I confirm, swinging back around in my seat.

This man is off-the-presses hot, and if I were a gambling girl, I’d say he’s modeled before. The way he moves his long, lean body is something that’s taught, not something you’re born with.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he asks.

“She ordered one.” Machlan sets a glass in front of me with more force than necessary. “What can I get you, Tommy?”

The man I now know as Tommy looks at me as he answers Machlan. “I think I’m good right now.”

“Make sure you’re still good the next time I check on ya,” Machlan says, a warning written in every syllable. “Feel me?”

I slide away from the two of them, some unspoken pissing match firing between them. Machlan’s hand hits the bar, making Tommy flinch.

“I, um, I think I need to find my friend,” I say, climbing off the stool.

“What’s she look like?”

“It’s fine,” I say, unable to shake the feeling from moments ago. “I’ll find her.”

“I just walked through. Maybe I know.”

His hand touches the small of my back as he follows me towards the area I last saw Peck. It’s too heavy for someone who just met me, too intimate for anyone who wasn’t invited.

“Really. I’m okay. I’ll find her,” I reiterate, increasing my speed in hopes he’ll drop his hand.

As I feel the coolness return to my back, my sight is drawn to the billiards area. Walker is standing, his arms over his chest, a look of death aimed at Tommy.

“Where are you, Delaney?” I mumble, sorting through the crowd. With each step I take, I feel Tommy take the same one, his voice behind me, but I can’t hear what he’s saying over the music.

I don’t find Delaney, but do spy the red sign for the restroom. Tommy’s hand again on my back, I spin around. “Gotta use the little girls’ room. Thanks for your help.”

Before he can say anything, I’m off through the doorway.

“WHY DO YOU LOOK like you’re two seconds from committing murder?” Peck’s question rings out from beside me.

“I’d say two seconds is a stretch. Probably more like six.”

My sight pinned on Tommy Jones, I follow that asshole through the crowd. He stops at various women, kissing their cheeks, grabbing a handful of ass, depending on what he can get away with.

“Where’s Sienna?” Peck asks.

“Bathroom.”

“She hasn’t met Tommy, has she?”

“Yup.”

“Oh, shit.”

I wonder, vaguely, how long you can have your blood pressure as high as mine without your heart exploding. From the moment he touched her—no, from the moment he sat down beside her—my veins have pulsed with a tempo that can’t be healthy.

I hate that motherfucker more than anyone on Earth. He’s a worthless, pussified cocksucker who tried once, only once, to pull his shit on my sister. He got some free dental work out of that encounter.

Sienna comes out of the restroom, her eyes darting around Crave. She’s tucking her hands into her pockets, not harboring that swagger of confidence that usually rolls off her. That alone pisses me off because I know it’s Tommy who took it. But when I see him head her way, my body vibrates in anticipation.

“Patience,” Peck warns. “You can’t just go over there balls to the wall.”

“I know.” And I fucking hate it.

Someone like her shouldn’t be in the same room with the rest of us. She’s a good chameleon, blending in with whatever environment she’s in, but I can tell she’s just that—a faker. She doesn’t hang out in shithole towns with shitty bars. You can see the little nuances if you watch for them, like the way she looks at what everyone’s drinking before she orders or how she’d have no idea what a place like this would even serve. It’s adorable, really, highly entertaining. And it leaves her vulnerable.

“I don’t think she likes him,” Peck notes as Tommy tries to step in front of her.

“Me either.”

She moves backwards, laughing, but the way her hands clench at her sides isn’t how she usually looks when she’s giggling. She’s not lifting her chin or cocking her head a touch to the left.

Tommy reaches for her arm, grabbing her just behind her elbow.

It’s one motion, one jerk of her arm away. It’s one moment of lip reading as she forms the word “Ouch,” that has me storming towards them.

I can barely see straight and it has nothing to do with the two beers I drank. My body shakes so fucking bad, ready to break this asshole’s face for a second time. By the time I get to them, they see me coming.

Sienna sags against the wall, Tommy taking a giant step away from her.

“You okay?” I ask her before I even get there.

“Yes,” she sighs, looking at me with wide eyes.

“You,” I say, turning towards Tommy, “are not okay.”

“I had no idea she was with you—”

My fist slams into his mouth before he can even get his excuse out of his trap. The explosion is a perfect cross, shoving all the way through until my arm is extended with his face at the end.

Sienna gasps, her hand flying to her mouth, but wisely stays to the side next to Peck.

Tommy is crouched on the floor, one hand tapping at his mouth. He swipes a trail of blood down the side as Machlan shoves through the crowd and takes in the scene.

My muscles flex, ready to lunge forward and hit him again. Machlan positions himself so I’d have to go through him to do it.

“What the hell did you do now?” Machlan looks down at Tommy with no pity.

“Your brother fucking hit me! Did someone call the police?”

No one says a word, the song on the radio overhead wrapping up the only sound. Tommy looks around, getting to his feet. As he realizes everyone is watching, you can see the anger and humiliation building.

“You’re going down for this one,” Tommy snarls. “I’m calling the police.”

“You do that.” Sienna steps to my side, her head held high. “Call them. I’d love to talk to the Sheriff about how you grabbed my arm.”

“You little bitch—”

He doesn’t get that one out either before I rock him back with a left hook. His body weight twisting him around with the force of the punch, he lands again on his feet like a fucking cat.

“Tommy,” Machlan booms, “I’m going to suggest you get the hell out of here while you can walk. Because if you open your mouth again, it’ll be the last time for a while.”

“Fuck you and this hillbilly town.” Tommy spits a mouthful of blood on the floor. “Fuck all of you.”

The crowd parts as he storms through it, the front door smashing so hard it sounds like the glass breaks. It’s the trigger that gets everyone talking again. Before I know it, it’s just me, Sienna, and Machlan.

As the adrenaline settles, the blood shining in the light, I realize what I’ve done.

“Fuck,” I growl, so many things floating through my head that I can’t make sense of any of them. The only thing that clears them for a brief moment is Sienna touching my hand.

“This is swollen,” she says softly, holding my hand in both of hers. “Can we get him some ice, Machlan?”

“I’m fine,” I grumble.

“You aren’t fine.” She lifts my hand to inspect it, her eyes full of concern. Watching her trying to get a plan together to fix me makes me forget about all the pain.

“I gotta get this mess cleaned up,” Machlan breathes. “You okay, Sienna?”

“Yeah. He just grabbed me. I think he pinched a pressure point or something.”

   
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