Remembered by Moonlight (18 page)

She put her face up close to his. “I beat the shit outta guys who grab my ass.”

He laughed out loud and let loose his broad, toothy grin.

If he’d convinced her earlier that he could move when it came to fighting, the way the Terriot king owned the dance floor impressed the hell out of her. Strong, fluid, sensual, he held the attention of everyone who saw him grinding and raising the roof in time to the pulsing beat of Sean Paul’s “So Fine”. And that, he was. His stare never left hers, shooting him to the top of the hot and sexy scale. And not just the ladies noticed.

They worked up a healthy sweat before returning to the table several selections later where Silas had poured shots to get the mood boisterous. Cee Cee met his gaze and nodded.

Cale glanced up at his cousin with brows lowered as Silas cozied up close laying a familiar hand on Cale’s hip.

“We’re going to the men’s room.”

Cale sidled away to open a more impersonal space. “I don’t go to the can with other men. Especially when their old lady is looking for an excuse to stab me.”

“She doesn’t need any excuse. Just walk.”

Cale followed him around the dance floor until they reached the hall leading to the bathrooms.

Still in sight of the bar, Silas murmured, “Don’t react,” and curled his hand behind Cale’s neck, his thumb grazing intimately across his cheek and ear. “Look up at me the way you were looking at my partner.”

Cale’s gaze lifted slowly and held until Silas bent to whisper against his ear. “I need you to do something. You’re not going to like it.”

“I don’t like it already. You’d better take a step back and tell me what the fuck you’re up to.”

Silas complied, smiling slightly. “See that white-haired fellow at the end of the bar?” At Cale’s affirmative, he said, “I need you to get friendly with him.”

“I’m a friendly guy, but I think I need you to explain that a little better.”

Silas hadn’t missed the way Casper Lee was handling Cale with his attentive stare. “We need his cooperation.”

“Are you asking if I’ll take one for the team?” Cale drawled. “I don’t think that’s going to happen.”

“It’s not like you don’t have a reputation for banging anything that moves.” There was more than just a hint of ill feeling in that claim.
Cale’s squint narrowed dangerously. “That’s not quite true. I’ve kept my banging confined to females of my own clan. I’m somewhat discriminating. These days Kendra prefers I keep my zipper up when she’s not around, and I plan to oblige her. Why don’t you roll him?”

“He’s not staring at me.”

“At least he has good taste.”

“Just flirt with him.” Silas gave him a push forward.

Shooting him a sour look, Cale wound his way toward the bar, kicking up his swagger a notch. He slid up to the rail to order another round for their table then leaned back on his elbows against the glossy wood, well aware of how his sweater pulled taut across his chest. He felt more than saw Lee’s approach.

“So you’re Creed’s fighter.”

Cale took his time in acknowledging the question and the man. Finally he swiveled his head to coolly study the other male. Everything about Lee hit a wrong cord, from the contrast of fleshy smile and ice-cold eyes to his intrusion inside the boundaries of Cale’s own personal space. He could almost feel the man’s accelerated breathing as he said, “I am.”

When he didn’t elaborate, Casper motioned to him. “Come with me.”

“I’m waiting for drinks. I haven’t paid yet.”

“I’ll take care of them.” And he walked away, assuming he’d be obeyed.

“If he’s heading for some dark corner so he can grab my crotch, I’m gonna kill you MacCreedy,” Cale muttered under his breath and followed.

Lee waited for him just inside the door to a large, dimly lit storeroom, shutting it behind Cale when he cautiously entered.

The sudden isolation made Cale jumpy enough to growl, “What’s this about?”

“I’ve got some decisions to make, and I wanted to get a look at you.”

“Here I am.”

“A good look.”

“You can see everything you need to see in the ring tomorrow night.”

Casper smiled at his response. “Not good enough, I’m afraid. I’m investing my time and my reputation on an unknown. I think that calls for a little cooperation, don’t you?”

“I’m the soul of cooperation.”

“What’s your name?”

“Gunslinger.”

A chuckle. “Your name.”

“Micky Terry,” Cale told him without missing a beat.

He stood very still, letting Lee reach out to take his hands and check his knuckles much the same way Cale had with Oscar. Something about his touch was slightly repellant. Maybe the chill, the smooth feel of his palms or the gleam of his manicured nails. Or the way those soft fingers stroked over the backs of Cale’s hands down to the tips of his own.

“You’ve done some fighting.”

“I’ve done a lot of fighting. I forgot to bring my resume.”

“Just bare knuckled or with weapons?”

“With just about anything you can imagine.”

Those roving hands moved up to test the swell of his forearms and biceps. “In what forms?”

Cale deliberately misunderstood. “Kung Fu, Kendo, Muay Thai, kickboxing.”

“
As
what form?” Lee clarified.

“Both.”

“To what degree?”

“Whatever’s necessary.”

Lee wet his lips. The intensity of his stare unnerved in its anticipation. “To the death?”

“If necessary.”

He prodded Cale’s shoulders with a surprisingly strong grip then eased behind him to chart his deltoids. A predator himself, he didn’t like the vulnerable feel of someone at his back.

“You’re small but you seem very fit. Let me see.” Lee caught the hem of Cale’s sweater to whisk it off. A sharp intake of breath, then a light touch tracing along the marks on his back. “Who had you beaten?” he whispered.

“My father.”

“Some of these are very old.”

“He was a firm believer in starting instruction early.”

Both hands moved over his skin, the gestures brief, caressing. “Such punishment must have been difficult to endure. Did he make you beg him to stop?”

“I never beg.”

Palms rested at Cale’s hips. “Take off your pants.”

“What? Why?” He struggled to keep those questions neutral.

Another chuckle. “I want to see if your legs are strong enough to carry your ego.”

Wordlessly, Cale unbuckled and unzipped, pushing the dark denim to the tops of his boots, then stood straight and unmoving in just his briefs while bracing for that next move that would push beyond the boundary of his cooperation. Not what he’d expected, that quick thrust of a knee into the back of one of his. Cale’s gave slightly but didn’t buckle.

“Good. Very nice. You can get dressed now.”

Cale moved with a casual ease, tugging up his jeans, keeping his body slightly angled so Lee wouldn’t get a good look at his clan tattoo as he slipped his sweater over his head. He hoped Lee had been too distracted by his scars to notice it, though the chance of him understanding its significance was small. The other’s breath on his neck made Cale go still.

“You’re very impressive.”

And then the anticipated touch, a light brush of Lee’s knuckles along his jawline. Fingertips trailed down Cale’s throat, the pad of his thumb rubbing over his bottom lip. Flirt, Silas had said. Okay. But not
too
much. He let his lips part slightly, and Casper’s thumbnail skipped along his teeth.

“I bet you’re good at a lot of things.”

“I am,” he said frankly, “but I’m only interested in one of them at the moment. I don’t fuck when I’m fighting. I don’t want the distraction.”

Casper moved into his field of vision, his face close, his eyes dilated. “Am I distracting?”

“I don’t know yet,” Cale allowed with the hint of a smile.

When his cousin approached the table, Silas took one look at the tight clench of his jaw and skewed fit of his sweater and stepped out to meet him, demanding, “What happened?”

“We were picking out china patterns.”

  “You didn’t insult him, did you?”

Cale leveled a frigid glare and drawled, “I told him I was flattered and that once I’m not so focused on business I’d let him blow me, but he’d have to wait his turn because you’d be on your knees ahead of him. You sonuvabitch.”

To defuse the situation, Cee Cee grabbed Cale’s arm and shoved him toward the dance floor, hissing at her partner, “You could have managed that better.”

Cale elbowed his way into the tangle of the couples swaying to Sam Smith’s crooning “Stay With Me”. He jerked Cee Cee up against his chest, taking advantage of the sultry music to hold her close so she could hear his angry words above the noise. “First I’m just a fighter, now I’m a whore? What the hell is it that you expect me to do?”

“Nothing you’re uncomfortable with.”

“Well, I’m pretty damned uncomfortable!”

“Silas didn’t expect you to—“

He waved off her apology with a flick of his hand then spun her into a series of quick revolutions that matched the snap of his temper. “I don’t care about that. A little grab ass for the cause isn’t going to kill me. I don’t shock that easily.”

“Then what’s this about?” she demanded, levering for space so she could study his glowering features.

“Him.” He glared toward the table. “That bastard. The way he always has to disrespect me. Like I’m nothing, nobody.”

“Silas?”

He pressed her head to his shoulder to escape her probing stare and took a deep breath. When he spoke again, his tone altered to calm and distant. “Sorry. You don’t need to hear this. It’s okay. The requirements of the job took me by surprise for a minute. I’m good now.”

“Cale.”

“I’m fine. Wouldn’t want to spoil the game.”

She’d leaned back to argue that when she saw a large hand clamp down on her dance partner’s shoulder and heard the growl of an undisputable claim.

“I’m cutting in.”

Cale tensed and turned, expression screwed down dangerously tight, more than ready to work off his aggravation. Then he recognized the interloper. With a crooked smile, he made an “all yours” flourish with his hands and bowed out, snatching up the closest more-than-willing substitute to refill his arms.

Cee Cee remained stiff and noncompliant as Max drew her smoothly to his chest. “What are you doing here, Savoie?”

“Exercising my right to party hearty in the club of my choice. Is that a crime?” His hands slipped beneath the hem of her top, palms settled low, fingertips riding the curve of her rump as his hips sashayed against hers in a suggestive motion. She wasn’t willing to be seduced. Not yet.

“You can’t be here.”

“Yet here I am.” He smiled slightly, eyelids slipping down to a sexy half-mast, daring her to challenge that fact. His thumbs made slow circles upon the bare flesh of her back. His heated touch sparked ripples of excitement, defying her stern mood.

“You have to leave.”

“
Cher
, the only thing I
have
to do is finish this dance with you.” Though deep and caressing in tone, she couldn’t mistake the strong undercurrent of displeasure in his voice. “I’ve decided not to like being told where I cannot be when it comes to you. Or would you prefer to have that boy’s hands all over you?”

She could hear the almost undetectable sound of him snuffling up the scent Cale left on her. Thankfully, Max couldn’t see his palm print on her butt. “That
boy
and I are working here, and you’re endangering our cover. This isn’t the place for macho chest beating, Savoie.”

“Oh, I disagree,
sha
,” he drawled with a lethal quiet. “This is exactly the place. Everyone here knows you’re mine, and for me not to take exception to you being pawed by another would raise more eyebrows than if I chose to remove his head.” As if considering that action, he lifted his gaze from her stormy glare to rest upon the Terriot in question. His aggression was misplaced, aggravating. And hot as hell.

“He has no interest in me, Max. Stop your growling.”

“I find that hard to believe looking the way you do tonight. I’ll growl if I like. And it’s not his interest that

concerns me.”

She pulled up sharply, planting her feet to regard him in furious disbelief. “Are you accusing
me
of—”

The rest of her angry words were swallowed by his sudden hard kiss. A demonstrative tongue-to-the-tonsils kiss that had her senses swirling like the lights overhead by the time he lifted away. She’d forgotten her arguments, all energies focused on keeping her knees steady and together.

Satisfied by her dreamy daze, Max drew her back into his arms to continue their dance.

With her cheek resting on his shoulder and a very mollified smile on her face, Cee Cee murmured, “You make a good point, Savoie.”