Destroying Beauty (Hell Hounds Motorcycle Club): Vegas Titans Series (6 page)

I wrap my arms around her tiny waist, picking her up off her
feet and pressing her against the closed door. I feel her breasts squeezed
against my chest. She gasps and I work my tongue deeper inside her mouth,
tasting the beer and tequila and something sweet all her own. I slide one hand
down, stroking her thigh and then pulling it back and around my lower back. Now
I have both hands free to finally grip her ass like I've wanted to all night.
It's as firm as it looked, and I hoist her up a little higher and break away
from her mouth to work my way down her neck.

"Holt, Holt, wait…" she murmurs. I pause. Did she
really just say that? "I can't…I can't do this right now. I'm sorry."
I feel her unhook her leg and I loosen my grip on her so that she slides to the
floor. She looks up at me, biting her lip, then down at her purse and starts
rummaging through it. She pulls out a pen and an old receipt and begins to
scribble down her number, using the door for pressure. "I don't know,
I…" she stammers as I frown down at her and she pushes the piece of paper
at me. "Here, if you want…I…it's hard to explain. Thanks for
tonight." She turns around and unlocks her door, looking back at me quickly
before closing the door in my face.

I stare down in shock at her number in my hand. I can't
remember the last time a girl turned me down. I mean, fine, I got her digits,
but
fuck
. I stuff the receipt in my wallet as I walk quickly back down
the hallway. That was the first time in fucking forever that my mind wasn't
wandering, that I actually felt present, and man, I wanted her. I wanted to see
her, feel her everywhere, hear her cry out my name…and she clearly didn't feel
the same.

I feel my phone vibrate in my back pocket as I reach my car.
I take a moment to adjust my jeans, which are uncomfortably pinching my blue
balls, then swipe my phone open to see a text from Bark. It's just a single
question mark.

She's scared
. I text back, then pause, thinking.
Just
laid the groundwork tonight. Got her home address and phone number.

I climb back into the truck and hear my phone buzz again as
I turn the key in the ignition.

Good work
.

I rub my forehead. Good work. Should make me feel proud but
I just feel like shit.

Chapter Seven

Jo

My leg bounces on the floor as I try to lose myself in an
episode of
Scandal
, but it ain't happening. I want to jump out of my
skin. There haven't been any leads in the "Gas Station Murders," as
the news is calling them. At first my neighbors were gathering nervously by the
mailboxes, whispering their theories about gang-related activity, but that died
down after only a couple days. I think they just want to forget. I wish I
could. I hear my phone ring and practically launch myself across the couch to check
the caller ID. My stomach drops a little as I see that it's Elise.

"Hey," I answer guiltily.

"Hey, yourself. I can't believe I'm finally hearing
your voice! It's been days!"

"It's been like five days."

"Yeah—
days!
" she exclaims. "Now I know
I'm probably just beating my head against a brick wall here…" she pauses
dramatically, "but do you want to come out tonight?"

"God, yes," I answer, so quickly that I surprise
even myself.

"Wait, really?"

"Yeah, I gotta get outta my apartment." And outta
my own head. I hold the phone at a distance as Elise emits a high-pitched
squeal on the other end.

Just under an hour later, I'm heading out of the apartment.
I have on a pair of sexy patent leather heels, skinny jeans, a low-cut silk
blouse, and a mound of black eyeliner. I feel a bit like I'm wearing a costume,
and I think that's the point. Elise beeps as she sees me walking out of my
building. Her music is blaring out of her car and she's bouncing in her seat as
I hop in the passenger side. She leans over an open Red Bull in her cup holder
to give me a hug.

"Damn, you look good," she says. She looks sexy as
ever, of course. She's a willowy brunette who always has guys following her
around. She comes off as such a party girl, but I know she's actually way more
traditional than me at heart—wants the cookie-cutter house, two kids, the whole
thing. I tried that life on for size and found it didn't fit me at all.
"Down to try a new cocktail place?" she asks, flipping her hair the
rearview mirror and pulling out.

"Sure, you know the places to go more than me."

"You OK?" She glances at me out of the corner of
her eye as I busy myself with my phone so I don't have to look at the gas
station as we drive by.

"Yeah, just haven't been sleeping that well, for some
reason."

"You waiting for a call?" she asks, raising her
eyebrow at my cell.

"Well…I did sort of meet someone," I hedge as she
speeds up to make it through a traffic light.

"Oh god, finally!" she cries. "You're
probably a virgin again by this point."

"Yeah, I don't think that's a thing."

"Whatever. Who is he? You have a picture?"

"OK, I did, you know, do just a bit of online…
research
,
but he's like a ghost. No Facebook account, no photos. I did find a website for
the landscaping company he owns, which I honestly thought he was kidding about,
but no pictures there either."

"So use your words, my dear!" Elise says,
affecting a British accent.

"Um, tall…muscular,
very
muscular. Dark brown
hair, longish, which I wouldn't have said I like before, but it works on him.
And he seems interested, but…"

"Bad kisser?"

"Oh, god no. Amazing kisser. I mean, just…beyond."
I reply, a shiver running through me at the memory. And then I remember how I
burst into tears in front of him minutes before that and blanch. "But I'm
not sure if it's such good timing…I have a lot going on."

Elise actually starts laughing. "What, Billy's?"

"Hey!"

"I'm sorry, girl, but I don't think that place is
exactly taking it out of you." She glances at me as I look down at my
hands. I can't tell her what the problem really is. She misinterprets my
silence. "It's just, you're capable of so much more. You just have to
figure out what you want to do." Well, she's right about that.

"I just feel like I lost a lot of years with Steve, you
know?"

"Yeah, but, like, fuck it." I shake my head at her
with a grin.

"'Fuck it?' That's your big advice?"

"Sorry, I'm not like, Mr. Fucking Rogers. But
basically, yeah. So you lost like, what, five years? BFD. Some people are like,
seventy, and have wasted their whole fucking lives."

I giggle at her. I love that she couches her advice with
that much profanity.

"So this guy, though, Holt, he has been texting
me," I say, changing the subject. I can only shine a light on my life
choices for so long without beginning to feel uncomfortable.

"Yeah?"

"He's been wanting to get together."

"So you've got him hooked. Nice. Oh, so we're meeting
Dana and Marissa, cool?"

"Yeah." They're friends of ours from high school
that I haven't seen in a long time.

"And a couple girlfriends of mine from work might be
joining us." Elise works at a furniture store because she's interested in
interior design. She's the type of person who draws in everyone near her;
everyone wants to be her best friend. It's one of my few points of pride that I
hold the coveted position.

We drive the last ten minutes together discussing Dana's new
haircut, and I'm happy to lose myself in such an innocuous topic. We park and
breeze by the line out front because Elise knows one of the club's promoters.
What Elise described as a "cocktail place" is definitely a full-out
club. The throbbing bass moves through me as we walk into a crowded space with
a circular bar in the middle. Elise quickly spots our friends at one of the
tables with bottle service and heads over while I follow behind.

"How'd we score bottle service?" I practically
yell into her ear over the music.

"Oh, they like to have pretty girls visible!" she
shouts back nonchalantly as we walk up the steps to the table. I notice that
all the bottle service tables are raised above the rest of the club, as though
we are literally what the rest of the people should reach for.

I say hi to Dana and Marissa, who are both surprised to see
me since I've been such a hermit, and Elise's friend Jewel. Dana and her new
bob haircut pour out vodka cranberries from the bucket in the middle of the
table. I make my way through the first one leaning against the suede couch and
answering noncommittally when asked a direct question, but otherwise just
observing. Jewel returns from the bathroom trailing three clean-cut dudes—dudes
is really the only word for them. They remind me of my ex-husband.

"Hey," one of them greets me, sliding onto the
couch next to me.

"Hey," I reply, pouring myself another vodka
cranberry. Light on the cranberry.

"Whaddaya do?" he yells into my ear, and I wince.

"Bartender!" I yell back as I down half my drink.
I hate these kind of conversations.

"You're too sexy to be a bartender!" he says,
sliding one hand onto my thigh.

What does that even mean? I shrug and move my leg over.

My phone starts shining like a beacon in my purse as he
tells me about his job as an accountant. Holt…lips…muscles…my eyes are making
more contact with my purse than this guy's face. Maybe Holt doesn't care that I
started crying.

"Excuse me," I murmur, reaching into my purse and
pulling out my phone. There's no text from Holt waiting for me, as there has
been for the last several days. He's been quite persistent, which surprised me.
Both because of how I acted, and because I'm sure a guy like him has women
throwing themselves at him all the time.

Hey, you busy tonight?
I type and press send. I'm
about to tuck it back into my purse when I feel it vibrate in my hands.

I could get away.

I google the nightclub's address and text it back to him
without explanation, then turn back to the guy. I feel much happier to make
conversation now that I know Holt is on his way. The guy's really perfectly
nice, and I wave Dana over because I think they'd make a much better pairing. I
loop her into the conversation and then extricate myself once I feel her taking
over.

"You hiding over here?" Elise asks me suspiciously
as she plops down on the sofa next to me.

"Maybe," I say with a smile. "I invited
Holt."

"The guy?" she asks, raising her eyebrows
excitedly. "Well, I'm excited to meet the man who's managed to finally get
you out of your apartment." I wince.

"I've been a bad friend, haven't I?" I realize.
"I'm sorry, I got so lost in myself with the divorce…"

"It's OK," she says, waving away my concerns.
"I knew deep down I just had to wait it out. But I'm glad you're coming
back."

Elise is the best.

"Oh," I breathe, glancing up at the dance floor.
Holt is walking through the crowd, looking around, his head reaching several
inches higher than everyone around him. He's wearing a leather jacket over a
tight Henley. My stomach contracts at the sight of him. He's almost painfully
good-looking. Elise glances at me questioningly. "There," I say,
pointing to him.

"Fuck," she murmurs, as we watch him move
gracefully despite his size. "Yeah, I'd leave my apartment for that, too."
He looks around the perimeter of the club at the tables and his eyes fall on
us.

"Shit! Pretend we're talking," I say, panicking,
not wanting him to catch me staring at him.

"Um, a guy asked me to pee on him the other day."

"Wait, what?!"

"I said no!"

"No, I just meant…is he walking over here?" I ask,
purposefully not looking at him. Elise responds by turning and looking slowly
up at Holt, who has just appeared next to our table. He leans down and brushes
a kiss against my cheek. I feel a few days' worth of scruff rub against my
cheek.

"You look different out of uniform," he murmurs.

"I'm Elise," she says, extending her hand to Holt.
"The best friend."

"Holt. So you're the one I have to impress," he
says, with a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Exactly," she laughs. I move over so he can sit next
to me, and reach forward to pour him a drink. I see the other men in the booth
eyeing the large newcomer.

"Where are you coming from?" I ask him, using the
question as an excuse to lean in closer. He smells like earth and fresh air.

"Just hanging out with some friends," he says. His
breath lands pleasurably on my ear and I squirm a little in my seat. "You
come here a lot?" he asks, glancing around.

"Never."

"Thank god."

"Wanna go back to your place?" I watch him glance
at me in surprise, and then take a long pause. Shit. Did I misread the signals?
He's been texting me, so I thought…