Under Locke (23 page)

And, it was a miracle I didn't croak when he stepped away. What in the
hell
was that?

When I glanced over in Shane’s direction, he was watching me curiously before taking off with Dex.

Well. That was awkward. And, and, and... holy crap. What was that about cute and playful? It made it sound like he thought of me as a puppy or something. I had to shut down my brain and push what he said out of my head.

Dex is a dick. Dex is a dick. Dex is a dick.

Gah!

I shut the thought in the back of my mind indefinitely.

Debating whether to keep watch at the table or keep my eye on Slim’s masterpiece—for the record, it seemed that everything Slim did was a masterpiece of fine lines, delicacy, and color. All the guys at Pins were really good, some better at certain things than others, but I’d always thought that Slim was the most talented. Maybe tied with Dex when he actually worked but usually he won.

After deliberating my options for a split second, I rolled my chair over to watch him tattoo the guy he had hunched over, working on an old pirate ship right smack on the middle of the man’s brawny shoulder.

I didn’t say a word as I watched him, not wanting to distract him from the man who had been all too excited to request Slim’s work an hour before.

But my friend Slim had other thoughts. His green eyes flashed up at me. “What was that about?”

"Huh?" I played stupid.

Slim pulled the gun off the customer’s skin, dabbing at the beaded blood before continuing with a shake of his head. "
Since when are you guys BFFs?
"

I’d learned over the last month how chatty all the guys were, well, specifically Slim and Blake. If I answered his question just remotely weird, I’d bet my first born Slim would jump to some kind of crazy conclusion that I wanted no part of. So I went with the truth. “I heard him fart last night. It kind of broke the ice.”

The little whistle he let out told me that was good enough. He snorted and raised an eyebrow before getting back to work. “That’ll do it.”

Chapter Thirteen

I was swooning. Unfortunately it wasn’t because someone had said something sweet—no one had—but because I was bone tired. After the four hours of sleep we’d gotten after the drive, then all of the running around to set up the booth, and finally the nine hours we had to work the Expo, I was crabby and swooning.

And these guys had dragged me to a bar with Dex’s friends.

Apparently no one cared that I was really tired and that I didn’t drink. They especially didn’t care that all I wanted to do was veg out on the bed in the hotel room with a meal that was more than the nachos and stale fries I had to down at the Expo. If I never saw another plate of nachos or another paper plate with over salted fries on it again, it'd be a day too soon.

“We’ll only stay for a little bit,” Slim had sworn.

That had
been two hours ago. Two hours was not what I considered a little bit. Two hours was the length of a movie. A movie I could gladly be watching in our hotel room beneath the covers of the pull-out. But more than likely I’d probably be asleep the second my head hit the pillows.

“Are you okay?” Shane asked from his spot on the stool next to mine.

I shook my head, giving him a drowsy shrug afterward. “I’m
exhausted
.”

“I was planning on leaving in a minute. Want to catch a cab back to the hotel?” he asked.

Hmm.

I was really tired…

Not tired enough to be stupid and irresponsible though. “I’ll just wait for Slim or Dex.” Or leave by myself. That was an option I’d willingly pay extra money for to be safe and
not take a chance with a stranger
.

Dex had disappeared a few minutes ago, leaving the table we’d taken up in a corner. Slim was over at the other side of the bar speaking to people that he knew. It was only my antisocial ass that was still sitting in the same spot we’d been in for two hours while my two coworkers were social butterflies. The bar wasn't exactly some upscale downtown hot spot. Saying it was seedy would be an exaggeration but it wasn't somewhere I'd go by myself. So I used that as an excuse to stay where I was.

Shane shrugged, and it was at that very moment that Dex reappeared, taking his seat on the other side.

As if he could read my mind, he leaned over and sighed. “I’m too old for this shit. You ready to go?”

Hallelujah!

I nodded so quickly and grinned so widely, I knew it was the reason why Dex smiled then. “Be right back.”

He got up again and made his way over to Slim who stayed where he was. Dex said something to him before bulldozing his way back where Shane and I were. Only he'd barely covered half the distance when a man standing in his way turned around too quickly and bumped into his chest.

Spilling a small
glass of
alcohol all over Dex's signature black v-neck.

Obviously I couldn't hear what Dex said to the guy but from the angry lines across his forehead, it wasn't nice. The man who had spilled the drink, only a couple inches shorter than my boss but easily twenty or thirty pounds
heavier in the gut
, lifted up a finger and pressed the tip of it into Dex's chest.

Even I knew that was the absolute stupidest thing he could
ha
ve done.

"Shit," I heard Shane mutter as his friend—my boss—lifted both hands up to shove the drunk guy back into a table. "C'mon, let's go get him. He can't get arrested again."

Oh crap.

Shane passed right by me, ticking his head over in the direction Dex was. Climbing over the chair, I followed after him, trying to peep around his figure to see what the hell Dex was doing by that point. From the stable conversations and tones around me, no one had gotten punched.
Yet
.

"Dex!" Shane yelled futilely. The bar was too loud to hear anything more than a foot in distance
away.

I twisted around his frame to see that Dex was fisting the drunk guy's shirt, shaking him pretty violently. All over a spilled drink? Jee-zus.

Shane cut the distance between them. "Dex! Let's go!"

I happened to turn and look over my shoulder at that moment to see the big bouncers at the door fighting their way toward the small—and stupid—spectacle.

"Dex!" Shane yelled again.

This idiot was going to get arrested, and then how would Slim and I get home? Annoyed, I made my way around Shane to reach out and grab Dex's thick forearm. "The bouncers are coming." I shook his arm.

Not paying any attention to me, Dex pulled the drunk guy closer to his face.

I looked over to see that the bouncers were even closer. So I did what
yia-yia
used to do
when
Will was being a little shit. I pinched his side as hard as I could.

That got his attention.

He swung those bright blue eyes over to me, jaw clenched, mouth grim.

I pinched him again. "Don't get arrested, you friggin' behemoth. C'mon."

Dex blinked twice. He glared at me for a moment before whatever anger or frustration he was feeling melted away in the blink of an eye. He nodded stiffly once, dropping both hands to his sides. With a glance behind my head, he cocked his head in the direction of the exit. Dex gestured me over to him, eyeing the door as his sign that we should get going. Shane followed behind me until we got to Dex, who maneuvered me in front of him as we made our way outside. By some miracle, we caught a taxi in complete silence almost immediately.

Shane slid in first, and as I started to duck to sit in the middle because that was the way we had ridden over with Slim, Dex's hand on my arm stopped me. "Me first."

Okay
.

I slid in after him, listening to Shane give the driver
the name of our hotel
.

Heat hit the side of my face almost immediately.

"Did you call me a behemoth?"

I tilted my head just a little to see that Dex's muscular body was angled toward me, his legs spread wider than necessary, his thigh pressing into mine as his mouth lingered way too close. "What?" I breathed out.

His lips twitched. "You called me a behemoth." I swear the corner of his mouth tilted up.

"Oh." I grinned because yeah, I had. "I did."

Shane's head peeked over Dex's shoulder. "Did you pinch him or was I imagining that?"

At the reminder, Dex started pulling up the side of his shirt where I'd gotten him. All I could see in the dark cab was the sleek outline of his lateral muscles rippling.

I think my mouth watered a little before I caught myself and snapped my eyes over to Shane. "He wasn't listening."

“Don’t think anybody’s ever pinched me in my life,” Dex claimed with a frown.

"You weren't listening!" I insisted.

“I’m gonna have a goddamn bruise. From you,” he pointed out the obvious.

"Bro," Shane hummed. "You know your ass can't be getting into trouble again."

I wanted to ask him if he was still under probation. I mean, he'd lost his mind over some guy accidentally spilling a drink on him. What
wouldn't
make him lose his mind?

Almost as if he was reading my mind, Dex made an irritated noise in his throat. "He spilled shit on me."

I snickered and mumbled under my breath, "Wearing a black shirt." Like that was noticeable.

I must have spoken too loudly because Dex's head snapped around to look me in the face.

With a one-shoulder shrug, I twisted my body to look out the window. "Just saying. Spray a little Resolve on it and it's fine. You didn't need to get your panties in a wad."

Shane snorted.

Dex grunted but I ignored him and settled my forehead against the window of the cab, listening to Shane strike up a conversation about having watched The Avengers recently. I’d overheard from Slim that Dex's first tattoo had been a Captain America shield somewhere on him. Where exactly it was located, I had no clue.

To be honest, I thought that was sort of cute.

Big, bad Dex with his inked up arms, black bike, the f-bomb dropping dick in a motorcycle club… liked superheroes? Unreal.

So all right, it was pretty friggin’ cute.

I pulled out a twenty dollar bill from my purse to pay for the trip when Dex pushed my hand away and nudged me out of the cab. I felt like a drunken prostitute on the way through the hotel lobby and up the elevator with the two friends. Shane said bye on his floor while we went up silently to the twelfth floor.

We were about halfway down the hall when I remembered something Dex had said at the bar about being too old. “How old are you?”

“Thirty-three,” he answered.

I stopped walking and stared at him. Thirty-three? I guess it made sense. He had his own business. A business that had been open for six years, so it wasn’t like he could
ha
ve been too much younger despite the fact that his looks landed him somewhere in his mid twenties instead of early thirties.

“Huh,” I huffed, taking in the lean frame in a fitted shirt. “You don’t look like you’re thirty.”