All I could think about that night was how to get myself and my kid into a safe situation and off the streets and safely away from Jacob.
So, when Jacob decided to break into the art museum that night, my heart certainly wasn’t in it. I protested. I begged him not to do it. I tried to distract him by suggesting we go steal some beer from the Plain Pantry on 11th around the corner, but he had a one-track mind.
I don’t know what he thought he was going to steal inside the art museum. You can’t exactly unload a fucking Picasso on the street. But, I was afraid of pissing him off, and he was getting angry at my incessant refusal, so I finally just went along with him. I didn’t like him when he was angry.
And like I said, my baby’s safety was all I could think about suddenly.
As soon as we stepped into the museum, I had a bad feeling. It was stupid. The guard would be back anytime, and I didn’t have much confidence in Jacob’s ninja skills.
He was loud and bumbling — being quiet and stealthy were not his strong suits. When he suggested we have sex, I was repulsed. I tried to fight him off, giggling and trying to fight him off, hoping he’d get distracted and change his mind if I fought him off long enough.
That’s when Grace found us.
That’s when I lost any chance at the life I’d fantasized about all day, before I’d even had a chance to taste it.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
LIBBY
“J'aime cette peinture!” Bullet said.
I looked at him in shock.
“What did you say?”
“I love this painting,” he smiled.
“You speak French?” I asked, dumbfounded.
“No, not really,” he said. “I just learned a few things because I knew I was bringing you here.”
“Wow.”
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“That’s just…,” I hesitated. “That’s just really thoughtful.”
“You like that?” He grinned. “I learned something else that I was going to spring on you later, but since you’re so impressed, I’ll just whip it out right now.”
I laughed, waiting.
He cleared his throat, making a big show of grasping my arms and staring into my eyes.
“Tes yeux sont plus beaux que toutes les étoiles du ciel, Libby.”
My eyes widened with each syllable.
“What does that mean?” I asked. I’d taken one semester of French in high school and gave up and switched to Spanish.
“Your eyes are more beautiful than all the stars in the sky, Libby.”
He leaned down, brushing a kiss across my lips as I swooned.
“Damn, Bullet, you know I’m a sure thing, right? You don’t have to go to all this trouble to get me into bed.”
He almost looked hurt when I said that.
“I just wanted you to know that I think you’re special, Libby. You’re worth it all.”
“You are so sweet, you know that?” I asked.
“Just do me a favor and don’t tell the guys about the French, okay? I’ll never hear the end of it.”
“Deal,” I nodded, slipping my hand in his. We were at the end of the Parisian exhibit and he’d been a perfect gentleman the entire night. But all this romantic talk was making me more than ready to get him alone.
“Ma chambre d'hôtel est chic comme de la merde,” he whispered. “Puis-je vous inviter à boire un verre dans ma chambre?”
“Translation?”
“My hotel room is fancy as fuck. Can I invite you back to my room for a drink?”
“You really went for it, didn’t you?” I laughed.
“Oui, mademoiselle!”
“You’re amazing,” I said, slipping my arm in his. “Let’s go.”
We strolled out of the museum arm in arm, and once more I hitched up my skirt and climbed on the back of his bike, the vibrations from the seat serving as a creative form of foreplay that I never before imagined.
By the time we pulled into the parking garage of the Hotel deLuxe, I was soaking wet.
“You’re right,” I said, as Bullet cut the bike’s engine.
“About what?” he asked, pulling off his helmet.
“Your hotel is fancy as fuck,” I laughed.
“Wait till you see my room!” he replied, grabbing my hand and walking me into the lobby.
“I can’t wait!” I smiled.
“Bullet! Libby!” The sudden shrieking of our names was unmistakable. We turned to see Julia stumbling out of the Driftwood Room, a very large collection of Gods laughing after her.
“Hey, Julia,” I chuckled. “I see you found the Gods.”
She stopped in front of us and stared up at Bullet with wide eyes.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“Damn, Bullet,” she whispered, her eyes raking over him appreciatively. “You clean up well.”
“Stop oogling him, Julia!”
“Alright, alright, but damn!” She laughed, grabbing my hand and pulling me to the lounge.
“No, I don’t think — I mean, we’re going up to Bullet’s room.”
“Not before you come have a drink with me, you aren’t!” Julia insisted, tightening her grip on my wrist. I looked back over my shoulder at Bullet and he shrugged, winking at me, as he followed us into the bar.
They were all there. Every face from the clubhouse, except for Grace and Ryder. Splayed out on the couches, lined up at the bar, snuggled up in booths in the corner, the Gods and their women had taken over the tiny, swanky retro lounge tucked into the corner of the lobby of the hotel.
I glanced over at the bartenders, both of whom were women, and saw huge grins plastered on their faces. I assumed the Gods were tipping well.
Slade and Riot sat at the end of the bar, downing shot after shot. Diana and Lacey were sipping on what looked like expensive whiskey in crystal glasses on a sofa in the back. I slid into a leather booth next to Julia as Bullet went to the bar to get us drinks.
“So, are you having fun?” I asked her.
“I’m sloshed!” she laughed. “But yes, very much.”
She was surrounded by all the single Gods, all vying for a flash of her smile. I don’t blame them, she’s drop dead sexy, but there are other women in the city. By the looks on their faces, they aren’t interested, though.
Bullet returned from the bar and placed a glass in front of me. I stared at the tall champagne glass, dumbfounded.
“It’s purple!”
“Lavender, actually,” he said. “It’s named the ‘Elizabeth Taylor’, I couldn’t resist.”
“Oh, I’ve had three of those already!” Julia exclaimed. “It’s delicious, drink up!”
Gingerly, I took a sip, and she was right, despite the faint whiff of lavender, it was sweet as honey.
“Wow, you’re right,” I said.
Bullet sat next to me, placing a warm palm on my bare knee, sending shivers up my thigh. He sipped his glass of whiskey and quietly listened to the conversation around us, which Julia was clearly leading.
Besides the Gods, there weren’t many others in the bar. A lone couple sat huddled together in one corner, eating from tiny plates scattered in front of them. Shortly after we’d arrived, a tall, thin man in a suit and hat seated himself at the opposite end of the bar from Slade and Riot, and an older lady with reading glasses perched on the edge of her nose perused the menu at a table by the door.
And despite the dark, intimate vibe, the Gods were loud.
Slade loudly bellowed every time Riot made a joke. Julia wasn’t keeping the volume down at all, her loud cackle echoing through the place every few minutes as she shamelessly flirted with everyone around her.
“What did you two do tonight?” Vick asked.
“We went to dinner and then Bullet took me to see that new Parisian exhibit at the art museum.”
“You, dear sir,” Julia slurred loudly, pointing at him. “Are getting laid tonight! The art museum leads right to this girl’s panties!”
“Julia, shut up!” I said, heat rising to my cheeks.
“What?” she shouted. “I’m just preaching the truth. There’s nothing you love more than art! Did you tell him the good news, by the way?”
“Tell me what?” Bullet asked.
“Julia, shut up!” I repeated. God, she was embarrassing.
“Tell me.”
“It’s not a big deal,” I murmured, with a dismissive wave.
“Bullshit!” Julia replied, standing up and spilling a drink in the process. “Attention, everyone! Attention.” She grabbed a fork and began banging on a champagne glass.
“Julia!” I hissed.
“I’d like to announce the next star of the Breeze Block Gallery! My beautiful best friend will have her very own show there in a few months!”
Bullet looked over at me in shock.
“Libby, that’s amazing,” he said. I slid down in my chair, dying of embarrassment. I grabbed the hem of Julia’s very short skirt, and pulled her back down in her seat.
“You suck!” I said.
“I sure do!” She fell into a fit of giggles.
I turned to Bullet, shaking my head. “It’s not a big deal.”
“Yes it is!” he insisted, squeezing my thigh and planting a huge kiss on my cheek. “I’m so proud of you.”
“Thanks,” I muttered. Julia was the only person I’d told so far. I hadn’t even told my parents yet. The fact is, I could hardly believe it myself. I’d worked at the Breeze Block Gallery for two years now, and just by chance, I was doing some work on my website last week when the owner, Paige, came in. She looked over my shoulder when I didn’t realize she was looking, and offered me a show right there on the spot, which surprised the hell out of me.
Now that everyone knows, I guess it’s real.
Once the clapping and attention suddenly thrown my way dissipated, I leaned over to Bullet and whispered in his ear.
He nodded with a secret smile and stood up, pulling out my chair.
Turns out, he truly is the perfect gentlemen.
“We’re turning in for the night,” he said, nodding at the Gods. “Gentleman, enjoy the rest of your evening.”
“But you just got here!” Julia protested.
“I think you’ll be fine,” I laughed, hugging her goodbye and whispering in her ear. “Make sure you practice safe sex.”
She giggled and patted her purse. “Always.”
“See you tomorrow,” I said, waving at Slade and Riot and following Bullet back into the luxurious lobby.
As we waited for the elevator, Bullet leaned over and whispered in my ear, his breath brushing over my skin and sending shivers down my spine.
“J'ai hâte de te retrouver seul!”
“What’s that mean?”
“I can’t wait to get you alone!”
“Hmm,” I mused. “Now you’re speaking my language!”
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
MONA
Sitting at the end of the bar, watching them all enjoy themselves, the camaraderie they shared…
It was hard to watch.
It only reminded me of everything I didn’t have. Everything I never had. Honestly, the closest I came to any kind of community like that was on the streets, so very long ago.
It wasn’t like that in jail.
It wasn’t like that in the art community.
Everyone locked themselves away, doing their own thing, occasionally crawling out of the walls with a pretty picture to show everyone. But for the most part, I was alone.
That’s why I was so smitten with the idea of converting that old ghost town into my own little neighborhood.
That’s why I’m so damned determined to get Libby to talk to me.
I watch her from afar and I see the way she looks at her friend, and the way she looks at Bullet. She wants that, too, I can tell.
I can only hope we can be that for each other, as well.
As she strolls past me, completely oblivious that the man at the end of the bar is the woman who gave birth to her, I can’t take my eyes off of her. She’s stunning in her dress, her hair swept up elegantly.
She disappears into the elevator, and just like that, she’s gone.
And I’m left with a bar full of bikers, pondering what to do with the rest of my night. First things first.
“Excuse me, I’ll be right back,” I say to the bartender, a hot blonde with a great rack that looks like she just moved here from Santa Clarita.
I stroll out of the bar and into the hotel lobby, stopping at the front desk.
“I’d like a room for the night, please.”
“Of course, sir,” the young guy behind the counter nodded. He stares at his screen, then looks back at me. “I have a regular room for $159 or I can get you in the penthouse suite for $875.”
I glanced back at the bar.
“Does the penthouse suite have a king-sized bed?”
“Yes, sir, it does,” he said. “In fact, there’s two. There’s a second bedroom.”
“Perfect, I’ll take it,” I smiled, handing him my credit card.
He slid a room key my way and asked if I had any luggage. I laughed waving him away. “Nothing you can carry.”
I strolled back into the Driftwood Room, ready to choose my prey.
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
BULLET
The door clicked into place and my inner caveman kicked in. It took all my strength to resist it. We’d both had a few drinks. It would have been so easy to fall right into bed and get lost in her body, but she deserved more than that.
She looked at me expectantly and I smiled patiently at her.
“Come check out this room,” I said.
Ryder and Grace had spared no expense, but as I’d checked in, I asked about upgrading and found out they had their premiere suite available. “They call this the Marlene Dietrich suite, apparently.”
“That bed!” Libby cried, her eyes lighting up. “It’s round!”
“It sure is,” I laughed. The round bed in the corner was blanketed in what looked like a puffy white cloud, with a white tufted headboard and gleaming gold plated nightstands beside it, with overflowing vases of white roses perched on top. A white, velvet chaise lounge was placed next to a roaring fireplace with a white marble mantle that matched the floors.
I had a sudden image of making love to Libby on it, but I pushed it away before I blew through all my restraint.
“This is so beautiful,” she said, slowly wandering around, and stopping to look out the window, gazing out at the downtown Portland skyline. My breath caught in my throat as I gazed at her.
She looked genuinely happy.
She’d never been more beautiful.
“What would you have done if I hadn’t come up here?” she asked, turning to me with a teasing sparkle in her eyes.
I walked over to her slowly, my eyes raking over every inch of her body, trailing over her curves, mapping out each path I would take along her skin later with my tongue. I swallowed hard, wanting her so badly it was painful.
“If you’d not come up here?” I repeated, my voice gruff with desire. “I guess I’d have respected your wishes and drowned my sorrows in a tub of ice cream and old Marlene Dietrich movies, I suppose. It only seems right, don’t you think?”
Her laughter bubbled up in the air and I leaned my head down, catching her laughing lips in a gentle kiss. She reached up, putting her hand on my cheek and I groaned at her touch. I pulled away slowly, knowing if I let the kiss deepen, I’d never be able to stop.
I smiled, peering deeply into her eyes, my heart swelling as we smiled at each other.
“There’s champagne,” I said. “And strawberries. And who knows what else. I ordered the deluxe package.”
“You went to all this trouble for me, Bullet?” she asked. “You didn’t have to.”
“I know,” I replied. “I wanted to.”
“Why, Bullet?”
“Libby,” I said, shaking my head, growing seriou
s. “I know we’ve talked about this before. And I don’t mean to keep bringing it up, but tonight was important to me. I wanted to show you that I can fit into your world. And you can fit into mine.”
She searched my eyes, her soft, hazel eyes so bright.
“We spent way too much time apart,” I continued. “I shouldn’t have let so much time pass. But I wanted to give you space. Time to heal. I guess I’m just trying to say that I hope enough time has passed, because I don’t just want a casual fling with you, Libby. I want you. I want you to be mine. I want us to be together. I’m not saying you have to give up anything. We can have our separate lives, but can’t we be together, too?”
“Bullet,” she said, “you’re the sweetest man I’ve ever met.”
I wrapped my arms around her waist, pulling her closer.
“You don’t have to take me to Le Pigeon and spring for the fancy hotel suite to show me that we’re right for each other,” she said. “I already knew that. I’m sorry I took so long —.”
I reached up, putting a finger over her lips.
“No, no apologies. You did what you needed to do in your own time. Never apologize for that.”
She nodded, smiling, tears springing to her eyes.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “I should have been a better communicator, though.”
“It’s okay,” I shook my head, trailing my finger down to her chin, lifting it gently, and brushing my lips against hers, and pulling away, gazing into her eyes again. “We’re here now.”
I pulled away and headed back towards the bed, where the staff had placed a bottle of champagne, shoved into a rhinestone encrusted bucket of ice. Chocolate-covered strawberries lay on a gold-trimmed plate on the nightstand. I grabbed the bottle and turned back to a smiling Libby.
“Let’s have a toast,” I said.
Her smile widened and she nodded. “Yes!”
The bottle opened with a loud pop, bubbles pouring out of the top as Libby rushed for the glasses with a giggle.
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