Biker's Bride: A Bad Boy Romance (Demons MC) (Includes bonus novel Kinged!) (29 page)

Did I really want to see him again? Shane and Amy both seemed to think I should stay away from him, and there was the small matter of him beating the crap out of two guys the first night we met. Still, that second time, he was calm and kind, if a little brooding and quiet. There was also the little matter of how fucking hot he was, and how badly I wanted to run my tongue along his abs. And maybe I needed a violent, dangerous man in my life. At least he was something new.

I bit my lower lip then typed back.
Maybe I will.
I hit send. I didn’t know what else to say.

Too good for me now, I get it
, he sent back. I smiled to myself, and realized I hadn’t felt this excited texting someone in a long time.

I’ve always been too good for you,
I sent back.

Not how you seemed in the bathroom
. The memory of his body pressed against mine, of his huge stiff rod straining against his shorts, made my breath come heavy.

Moment of weakness
.

Your call. I’ll be there if you change your mind
.

I left our texting there. I felt a thrill run through me. I knew I had plans with Amy, but she was always canceling on me. I had every right to push our little date back a night or two if I wanted to. Plus, he was coming after me.

How could I say no?

––––––––

A
my didn’t seem upset when I told her I had to postpone our date. We rescheduled for brunch the next day, and I prepped myself to see Rex. I had no idea what to expect; we had already made out in a bathroom stall, but I still barely knew him. I put on short, high-waisted jean shorts, and an old band T-shirt. I didn’t want to dress up too much, but I also didn’t want him to think I was purposefully dressing down or something, even though I was. I finished the outfit with gladiator sandals.

I could barely contain how excited I was as I made my way toward Drake’s. I grabbed a cab outside of my apartment, and had them drop me off two blocks away from the bar. I didn’t want Rex to see me climbing out of a cab and have more ammo for his “spoiled girl” jokes.

The night was cool, but comfortable. I pushed my hands into my pockets as I walked, and pictured what I was getting myself into. Rex’s muscles came to mind immediately, his strong jaw and eyes, and the way he grunted at questions he didn’t feel like answering. There was something magnetic about him that I couldn’t explain.

There was nobody hanging around outside Drake’s, but music spilled from the dim windows. It was some old country song I didn’t recognize, and I laughed to myself at how cliché it was for this bar to play crappy country. I pushed open the door and let the warmer indoor air run over me.

Inside, the place was as dim and smoky as the last time. It was somewhat crowded, although it was still only nine on a Saturday night. I scanned the pool tables and booths, until I spotted Rex sitting alone at the bar in the same seat I had sat in last time.

I crossed the room and came up behind him

“Hey, stranger,” I said over the music.

Rex was wearing another tight black T-shirt and the same cutoff shorts. He turned back to look at me, and his face broke out into a devilish smile. I let out a small gasp when I saw his black eye and the fresh red cut along his right brow.

“Hi there, spoiled chick,” he said.

I wanted to reach out and touch his face, but I restrained myself.

“What happened?” I asked.

His smile turned into a grin. “What, this? Fell down some stairs.”

“Seriously, that looks bad. Are you okay?”

He waved his hand, dismissing my worry. “I’m fine. Sit down,” he said, and turned back toward his drink. I took the seat next to him as he ordered me a whiskey and Coke from the bartender. I was impressed that he remembered.

“Seriously, that eye looks bad. What happened?” I felt bad pressing him, but he looked seriously hurt. I noticed both of his hands were wrapped in white bandages.

“It’s nothing. Part of my job.”

“I thought you worked here, at the bar?”

He gave me a sideways look that I couldn’t read. “I do, in a way.”

“Quit being so mysterious.”

He broke out his wicked grin again. “Can’t help it. Drink your drink.” The bartender placed the glass in front of me and nodded at Rex.

I lifted the glass to my lips and sipped it. He downed his beer and gestured for another.

“What’s your job, then? Stopping cars with your face?”

“Not cars. Trucks. It’s tough, but it pays well.”

I laughed. “Yeah, doesn’t look worth it though.”

He didn’t respond as his new beer was placed in front of him. He picked it up and drank half in two big gulps. There was a short lull in our conversation as my mind ran through the possibilities. Did he get in another fight since I last saw him? Maybe he really was too dangerous for me, too violent. I had to admit that the black eye and busted fists terrified, but also thrilled me.

He gave me another look. “Do you play pool?”

I had an ex who played pretty well, and he tried to teach me once. I was awful.

“Yeah, better than you, I bet.”

“Oh, you think so? Want to make it interesting, then?”

I shrugged, playing it cool. “What did you have in mind?”

He thought for a second. “Winner gets to ask the loser for one favor.”

“What kind of favor?”

“Any kind of favor they want.”

My mind buzzed at the possibilities. “Alright then, you’re on.”

Rex smiled, grabbed his beer, and then stood. I picked up my drink and followed him. We wound our way through the small crowd, back toward the pool tables, and we put our drinks down on a side ledge built into the wall. He picked out two cues, and racked the balls. I watched him, and was impressed by how precise and smooth his movements were. I knew I was about to lose, but I didn’t care. I noticed he was favoring his one side, as if his ribs were bothering him, and I wondered then what other injuries he had that I couldn’t see, and what had happened to him.

“You can break,” he offered. I shook my head.

“Only losers break,” I said. He laughed, and lined the cue up. He took a few short practice strokes, and then slammed the cue into the pile, balls flying everywhere. He obviously knew what he was doing, and one solid ball fell into a side pocket.

“You’re stripes,” he said, as he lined up his next move. I watched him for a few minutes, his careful movements and precise shots, and I was impressed. Part of me wondered what kind of favor he was going to ask for. Finally, he missed a shot, and I stepped up to the table.

“Prepare to be amazed,” I said. He grunted as he drank his beer. I lined up a shot with the intention of hitting a striped ball into the corner pocket, took a few practice strokes, and then banged the cue into the wrong ball, sending them scattering all across the table. He laughed out loud.

“That’s some serious skill,” he said.

I shrugged and moved away while he lined up his shot. “I’m just hustling you.”

We played like that for the next fifteen minutes. I made a few balls, but the game was all but won after that first break. Eventually, he sank the eight ball, despite my trash talk and attempts at distracting him. As the final ball rolled into the pocket, he looked up at me with a smile.

“Looks like I’m the winner.”

“Somehow I think you cheated.”

He pretended to be insulted. “I would never cheat at pool.”

“Fine, you win. Fair and square. So what’s your favor?”

He moved closer to me, and wrapped his arm around my waist, holding the pool stick in the other. I put my hands on his chest, heart hammering. I looked up into his deep green eyes, and he looked back with a straight face. I expected something dirty. I hoped for something dirty. I needed something dirty, his hard body pressed up against mine. A thrill ran through me.

“Haven’t decided,” he said. I smacked his chest and laughed.

“I thought you were going to say something else.” I felt myself blush.

He raised an eyebrow. “And what’s that?”

I shook my head, trying to cover my embarrassment.

“Never mind. Double or nothing?” I said.

He laughed, and before I could say anything more, he pressed his lips against mine. At first I was surprised and taken aback that he’d kiss me right in the middle of the bar, but I quickly found myself melting into his embrace. I felt his arm tighten around my waist and pull me closer as his lips parted. His tongue ran against mine, and a bolt of excitement ran down my stomach and into my core. I felt wild with an aching need, and forgot all about the people nearby. The kiss ended as quickly as it began, and when he pulled back, I could see that his eyes were as full of passion and need as mine were. We looked at each other like that for a few moments, before he let me go and turned to take a deep drink of his beer.

“Double or nothing,” he said after finishing.

I nodded, trying to pull myself together. “Rack them up,” I said.

“You’re going down. Again.” He grinned at me.

“I told you, I’m hustling you. Prepare to see my skills.”

“If you have any skills, they’re definitely not in playing pool.”

What an asshole. He was right, though.

As he moved to place the balls in the triangle, a hush fell over the bar. He looked up from what he was doing, and then stood bolt straight. I followed his gaze toward the front door, and spotted a group of three people. Everyone was quiet, and most eyes were on the leader of the trio. He was the tallest, and his hair was long and jet-black. He had a jagged scar that ran down his cheek, and his eyes were so brown they looked almost black. He was dressed in jeans and a leather jacket with a white T-shirt underneath. The other two looked almost identical; they were also tall, broad, all muscles, and their heads were shaved. They wore cargo shorts and hooded sweatshirts. The one on the left was a bit shorter than the one on the right, but otherwise they were indistinguishable from each other.

I looked back at Rex, and took in the grim look on his face with curiosity. I moved closer to him.

“Who are those guys?” I said quietly.

He looked down at me, face unreadable. “That’s my boss and his usual muscle.”

“He owns the bar?”

“Not exactly. He does, but that’s not how he’s my boss.”

I had no idea what he meant, and I wanted to ask more questions, but he had already gone back to racking the balls. The atmosphere in the room had begun to return to normal, and the trio took up spots at the bar. I thought better of pushing, especially considering the look on Rex’s face, and watched him rack and break the balls. He was a mask of serious concentration.

The game went a lot like the first one. Rex made shot after shot, and I kept finding it impossible to make the cue ball go straight. He was a lot quieter though, and didn’t joke back when I tried to heckle his shots. He still smiled and grunted, but I could tell there was something wrong. He was a bit more distant and aloof. When he sunk the final ball, he grinned up at me.

“Winner,” he said, and put his stick down on the tabletop. I walked around the table and stood close to him.

“You are the winner. So what’s your prize?”

He smiled at me, and then took a few steps toward the bar. “Drinks, that’s my prize.”

I felt a little confused. That wasn’t the reaction I was expecting.

“Drinks it is then,” I said, and followed him to a nearby booth.

I slid into one side. “Whiskey and Coke, please.”

He looked down at me with a wicked grin. “Actually, Miss Spoiled, I do believe I was the winner.”

I stared back at him, not understanding.

“Drinks are on you,” he said, still grinning.

“Oh, you asshole,” I said, and laughed. I got back up. “What do you want?”

“Just a beer. And make it snappy.”

I gave him a “fuck you” look, and turned to walk away. As I took my first step, he slapped my ass, a firm hand on my cheek. It stung a bit, and I looked back at him. He was grinning his biggest grins, and I just shook my head. I wanted to be offended, but I had to admit that I liked it.

“Asshole,” I said as I walked away.

At the bar, I ordered a beer and a whiskey and Coke. I stood there waiting for the drinks, idly looking around at the other drinkers, when the man with the scar on his face caught my eye. He smiled, but I looked away quickly, feeling awkward. I didn’t want to draw attention to myself. The change in Rex was palpable after he had walked in, and Rex had called the guy his boss. When I went to look back, the man was suddenly looming close in my vision, standing nearby. I almost jumped out of my skin.

“Hey there, pretty thing,” he said quietly. His voice was deep and gravelly, as if he had smoked for years. His body reeked of sweat, and his breath was strong. I fought against my desire to run away, and forced a smile.

“Hi,” I said back, meekly.

“Well now, don’t be shy. Never seen you here before.”

“I don’t come in much,” I said, looking for my drinks. The bartender was pouring the beer.

“What’s your name?”

“Darcy,” I said.

“Well, Darcy, I’m Michael. This is my bar.”

I looked back at him. His smile was huge, but it didn’t touch his dark eyes. I suddenly realized how afraid of him I was. My pulse quickened.

“It’s a cool place,” I said.

He laughed, and then coughed. “No, Darcy, it isn’t cool. But thank you for saying so.”

I tapped my foot, nervous and afraid. The bartender returned with the beer, and started making my whiskey and Cokey. I wished he would hurry up so I could get away from the terrifying man. I felt other eyes on us, watching. I didn’t respond to Michael’s comment, and just smiled.

“Not very talkative, are you? I guess you don’t need to be, with that young body and pretty face.” He was still smiling, but there was something sinister there.

“I’m sorry?” I said.

“No offense meant, darling, just a statement of fact.”

I felt myself recoiling from him. The bartender finished my drink and placed it down in front of me. I reached into my small clutch to put some bills on the bar.

“No need for that,” Michael said. He nodded at the bartender.