Destroying Beauty (Hell Hounds Motorcycle Club): Vegas Titans Series (10 page)

I slam my empty beer bottle down on the stone step of the
clubhouse behind me. It shatters with a satisfying crash. Can't believe I let
myself start thinking about Jo in that way. For all I know, she could still
want to go to the cops, and it would be my job to take her out.

Forget her. Forget her.

I grab the door handle and head back inside. Quickest way to
assure myself I don't have feelings for Jo is to fuck Brette, so that's what
I'm going to do. That's who I am.

"There you are," Fingers says, stepping out of the
lounge in front of me. "Bark needs to see you. In the cave."

I grunt and turn around, heading for the back staircase. I
push the metal door open and see Fish sitting next to Bark at the table. This
can only be bad news.

"Angel Medina's older brother is out for blood,"
Bark says without any preamble. "Gonna tell the rest of the club at church
but wanted you two to know first since you're closest to it."

"I though Rich said the rest of the cops bought the
robbery thing," Fish says.

"They did. And so did most of the Death Dealers. No one
wants to start a war between us again. But for Jose Medina…that was his baby
brother. I don't think he feels like accepting the rational explanation. Heard
he's been ranging around, looking for a stray Hell Hound to pick off."

"We'll spread the word," I assure Bark grimly.

"How's Jo Anderson doing?" Fish asks, leaning back
in his chair. I hate hearing him say her name. Must've gotten it from Bark. I
smile back at him calmly.

"Like I said, she told me she saw a shooting. Nothing
else. But I'm staying on her."

"Just wondering if you're getting a little
too
close. Saw you turn down Brette up there."

I feel my jaw twitch. "Just because you have to play the
brother card with Brette to even get her to give you a hand job doesn't mean
the rest of us have a constant hard-on for her."

"So you're fucking Jo?" Fish asks, raising his
eyebrows with a cold smile. I glance at Bark but he doesn't say anything.

"Yeah," I admit with a shrug. "Bark told me
to do what it takes. So I am."

"She looked pretty cute in that photo. Maybe I should
give her a call."

"Alright, enough," Bark mutters. "Both of
you. Holt, don't get attached. Wouldn't think I'd have to tell you that."

"You don't," I say, doing my best to keep my tone
calm even though I'm fuming. "That it?"

"That's it," Bark says, eyeing me steadily. I turn
around and walk back up the stairs. Probably leaving Fish to whisper poisonous
nothings in Bark's ear about me.

I walk straight to the bar and grab a bottle of Jack
Daniels. I don't feel like fucking Brette anymore now. I feel like getting
blasted and passing out. And that's what I'm going to do.

Chapter Eleven

Jo

"I was going to wait for Holt, but he hasn't called me
back, so I just did it myself," I say, gesturing to my little windowsill
garden. "Dill, thyme, rosemary, and basil."

"That's great!" Elise says admiringly, delicately
touching a tiny leaf of the young rosemary plant. "I mean, not that he
hasn't called you, but that you did it yourself. You've got enough for a Simon
and Garfunkel song here."

I laugh. "Thanks. Well, I felt like I was always
sitting around, waiting at home for Steve, and I want to make sure I don't do
that anymore." I feel a pang in my gut as I say it, though. I'm putting on
a brave face, but I have been checking my phone pretty constantly. Holt and I
had seen each other or talked on the phone every day this week, and now nothing
since last night. I clear my throat. "I chose this window because it has
the most sunlight. I read that herbs need a lot. I really liked doing it. Maybe
when my lease is up, I'll get a place with some outdoor space."

Elise straightens up and looks me over. "You seem
different. You've got a little spark back."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, it's been a while since I've heard you talk
about the future. Hey, I went on a date with one of those guys from the
club."

"How'd it go?"

"Meh."

I grin at her. "I mean…maybe stop meeting guys in
clubs? You keep saying you want to settle down…maybe that's not the best place
to meet that kind of guy." I refill her wine glass with more Cabernet.

"Where'd you meet Holt?"

"At Billy's. But he flaked on our plans earlier today,
so I'm not the best person to follow."

"It seems like you really like him."

"I do. Too much, I think. It's only been a couple weeks
and I'm already wondering where he is all the time, thinking about him…"

"Well, he's hot, that's for sure."

"Do you think it's weird that I haven't met any of his
friends yet?"

"Nah, it's only been a couple weeks." She glances
at the clock on the microwave. "I better get going. I have another date
with Grant."

"Who?

"The club guy."

"I thought you said he was boring!"

"Ugh, I know. What can I say? I feel my baby timer
ticking away in there." She puts her glass in the sink and wraps me in a
quick hug. "Don't worry about Holt. I'm sure he got caught up in
something. It seemed like he was really into you."

I smile at her and watch her sashay down the hallway. My
head jerks back as I hear my phone ring in the bedroom. I close the door and
hurry inside. It's Holt. I debate not answering, letting him stew a little, but
know I shouldn't play games.

"Hey," I answer.

"Hey." The sound of his low voice sends a shiver
through my spine. "Sorry about today. Maybe we could get you the plants
next week."

"It's OK. I actually went to the nursery and got them
myself this afternoon."

I hear him pause.

"Oh, great. Did you still want to hang out
tonight?"

"Sure."

"Mind coming out here?"

"Um, yeah, sure," I reply.

"Give me a call when you're at the exit and I'll give
you directions," he says shortly, and I hear him hang up.

I frown down at my phone. What the fuck was that? Why was he
acting so distant? I feel my eyes well up with tears, my "cool girl"
routine broken by his dismissiveness. I thought there was something…well,
special, between us, though now hearing myself think that word makes me roll my
eyes at myself. I shouldn't have let myself get attached so quickly. It's just,
meeting him at the time I did, after the shooting, it felt almost
synchronistic. Like he was meant to help me through it, or something.

Stop thinking like that! Maybe I should call him back. Text
him, even. Say I can't go. But maybe when we see each other…there's no denying
our physical chemistry. Every time we've seen each other we've tried something
new and it just keeps getting better.

I defiantly wipe the tears from my eyes and head to my
closet to pick out something that will make his jaw drop.

I park down the street from the bar Holt directed me to. His
abruptness on the phone surprised me again, and now I'm rethinking my short
dress and heels. This neighborhood is seriously seedy. I sigh and step out of
my car, tottering a bit on the uneven cement.

I pull down the hem of my tight tank dress as I walk to the
doors of the bar. As I haul the heavy door open and step inside, I feel several
sets of eyes turn toward me and someone immediately whistles. I look around
nervously for Holt, but the place is so dark I can barely see and music blares
from the speakers.

There, that hulking shape in the booth at the back is
probably him. I step around several large, rough-looking men and fewer women,
working my way toward him without trying to attract any attention. It doesn't
work.

"Hey baby." Foul B.O. hits my nose as a man slings
his arm over my shoulders. "You look good enough to eat."

"Not interested," I say flatly, and shrug off his
arm as I pick up my pace towards Holt.

"Hey, c'mon," he cries, following me. I reach the
booth and Holt glances up at me. The strange man looks between us. "Oh,
sorry, Holt. Didn't know."

"Friend of yours?" I ask, looking after him as he
scurries away.

"Nah. Think I've seen him around here a few times,
though," Holt says casually.

"OK..." I slide down into the booth across from
him. I watch him look over the top of my dress before he returns to his beer. "So,
um, I think the garden came out well."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah. I watched the light yesterday like you said, and
the kitchen window gets almost full sun. I got these really tiny plants at the
nursery. I thought maybe growing from seeds for the first time would be too
difficult. And I got this silver planter to put them in that attaches over the
sill. Dill, thyme, rosemary, and basil." I realize I'm babbling and bite
my lip, feeling embarrassed. Holt is just staring down at his beer. Anger
flares inside me and I take a deep breath to keep my voice calm. "You're
acting weird. If you didn't want me to come to this shithole, then you
shouldn't have invited me. After what….you know…life's too short for this kind
of bullshit."

I stand up and walk away. I feel Holt's hand on my wrist
after I've barely taken a single step.

"Wait."

"Why?" I demand.

"I'm sorry. Will you sit back down? Please?" I
glare down at him, but soften as I see his gray-green eyes looking up at me
with sadness in them. Whatever front he'd been putting up, it's gone.

I step back and slide into the booth. He runs his hands
through his hair. I examine his face. He's got bags under his eyes.

"I got wasted last night. I woke up a few hours
ago."

"Alright…"

"I was drinking because, fuck. I was thinking about you
too much."

I smile. "Yeah, I know that feeling. I mean, about
you."

"There are some things about me…" he pauses,
seeming like he's trying to gather his words, and pushes around his empty pint
glass. "Can I get you a beer?" he asks suddenly.

"Yeah, sure."

He stands up and then bends over, kissing me quickly on the
lips, just long enough to send a quiver running through my body. He stares at
me for a second before turning around and walking to the bar. I blink and look
after him. He bends over the bar, leaning his forearms against it. I feel a
twinge of longing in my stomach, and wish we were alone in bed holding each
other right now. I take a deep breath. At least he seems more like himself now.

A man cuts off my vision of him, moving from the corner of
the bar and approaching Holt from behind. I frown at him, not liking something
about the way he's moving. The dim light from bare ceiling bulbs glints off
something in his hand, gripped tightly next to my leg. A knife, I realize with
horror.

"Holt!" I scream, standing up as the man nears
him. A few people near me follow my gaze and stand up, too, but no one's doing
anything. And the music is too loud—Holt can't hear me. I won't be able to
reach him in time. My hand brushes against Holt's empty pint glass on the
table. Before I can think about what I'm doing, I pick it up and chuck it as
hard as I can at the man's back.

The man stumbles forward as it slams into his spine. The
glass lands on the ground with a crash and Holt spins around at the noise. I
watch him glance at the man in front of him and then at the knife in his hand.

I scream as the man lunges forward, aiming his knife at
Holt's gut. The people around them at the bar back up, not wanting to get
involved. Holt deftly steps away and the man's arm sails past him. Holt shifts
his weight and leans back in, slamming the man's hand onto the bar. The knife
goes clattering across the floor and I run over to pick it up and then stand
awkwardly holding it and watching the fight, unsure of what I should do, but
knowing I feel better with the knife out of the picture.

Not that Holt looks like he needs any help. I mean, I knew
he was strong, obviously, but he moves like a seasoned fighter. I watch as he
slams his knee into the stranger's face, sending him to the floor, where he
stays. Holt watches him for a second to see if he'll get up and then marches
over to me, his expression deadly serious.