by Trent Jordan
“I guess we’ll see,” I said. “I’ve been working the new girl in the DA’s office to put pressure on the Fallen Saints, but—”
“I thought she hated your guts?”
I smirked. I reached into my pocket, placed the napkin on my lap, and looked at the number there.
“Not as much as she used to,” I said. “In fact... ”
Just around sunset, with most of Los Angeles having gone back home for evening drinks and dinner, I sat back at Brewskis, waiting for the arrival of the woman I had texted shortly after Patriot left. No one in the club had any idea that I had even met her last night, let alone that I had texted her to come out tonight.
Let alone that she had agreed with a smiley face.
Granted, such a gesture might have been common for her to do. She seemed like a generally nice and happy person, albeit one with the same serious mission as me. She seemed like the kind of person who might have sent a lot of her texts with emojis. Heaven knows I didn’t—even with Shannon, I think I might have sent such an emoji twice in the entire time we dated.
Still, I couldn’t help but wonder if that text might have meant something.
In any case, when I saw Angela walk up, I reminded myself of why I had asked her to come. It was not to flirt with her. It was not to implicate myself. It was to give her more details about what I knew with the Saints and my brother in the hopes that she could apply some more pressure on them. Our ambush was going to work, but if we could put even more weight on her shoulders, that would be even better. I wanted them to suffocate from all angles, if possible.
I remained in my seat at the bar, and she sat right next to me. I couldn’t tell if she had wanted to hug me when she first walked up, but in any case, it was probably for the best that that not happen.
“How are you feeling?” she said. “You look like you’re favoring your shoulder?”
“Shoulder’s not doing too good,” I said with a snort.
“Can you say how you got it that way?”
I shrugged with my good shoulder.
“Depends on if I’m talking to Angela, the lawyer, or Angela, the woman.”
I gave a slight smirk when I said it, which I think was enough for Angela to get the hint. She knew better than to ask me anything else and let the issue slide.
“So anyway,” I said, quickly getting us focused. “I wanted you to come here so we could help with the issue for Shannon.”
“Absolutely,” she said. “What’s up?”
“Well,” I began.
I suddenly felt compelled to tell her everything that was going on. It was more than a little stupid, especially since a full confession could implicate myself somehow. But I just... I just wanted to talk to her about everything. I couldn’t believe I was actually doing this.
But, thankfully, I wasn’t a lustful teenager in love. I was an adult who had enough self-control to protect myself. I could confess everything, but word it in the right way.
“I’ll tell you everything going on, I’ll tell you the deal with the Saints, if... ” I said, letting the word hang for a second. “You can keep things quiet, and you agree to ratchet up pressure on the Saints.”
“Okay,” she said, apparently in much more control of herself than I was of myself. “You know I fight for justice, right? So if the Saints killed Shannon, then I’ll fight them and put pressure on them.”
“Right,” I said. “But, I need to know if the means matter to you.”
Of course they mattered to her. She was a lawyer. Procedure and protocol were everything to someone in her position.
It was no surprise that she hesitated, looking visibly agitated. It was akin to asking a cop if they wanted to shoot criminals. Well, yes, they wanted to bring justice, but they couldn’t just go shooting anyone that opposed them. Much as some of the Reapers wanted it the old school way, this wasn’t the Wild Wild West where anything went.
“Look,” she said. “Just don’t tell me everything. You already know that the means matter to me, and you know that if you say something illegal, you know I have to take it into consideration. Okay? Be smart about it.”
I nodded, bit my lip, and made sure I chose my words very carefully. It was like I was in a courtroom, though at least the courts wanted to give me a favorable ruling. I just had to make sure I stayed on their good side.
“Am I being recorded right now?”
“No,” Angela said emphatically. “I wouldn’t do that to you.”
Did I trust her?
Just because we’d had a long, empathic conversation the night before didn’t mean that we were friends. We had just had some unexpected bonding moments over fighting for the memory of Shannon. I didn’t think that suddenly meant that we were going to hang out all the time and like each other.
But when we hugged, and when we locked eyes...
The only other person who made you feel that way was Shannon. You’re not an idiot, Lane. You may be arrogant and hardheaded, but when you let that head be a little more malleable, you’re not dumb.
“Okay, I believe you,” I finally said.
“Like I said, just remember I have a job to do.”
I nodded. I spoke very slowly and very carefully from here, taking great care not to implicate myself.
“My job puts me in some dangerous situations from time to time,” I said. Technically, my job is owner of Carter’s Auto Repair. And yes, it’s not the safest job. “I’m always concerned that death could be on the other side. I don’t want to die. I want to bring honor to my father and Shannon. And to do that, I need all the help I can get. You see? The thing that might bring me danger may not be afraid of me, but it’s not going to be so stupid as to go after a government official.”
I felt ridiculous speaking like so. I decided to drop my guard a little bit.
“The Fallen Saints did something a couple nights ago that has raised alarms among my group,” I said. “It’s clear that there are going to be more serious issues going forward. I need to do everything I can to eliminate them or minimize their strength sooner rather than later. And seemingly the only way I’m going to do that is with pressure from all angles. So... whatever dirt you need, whatever intel you need... you got it.”
Angela looked me up and down, bit her lip, and smiled ever so slightly.
“You know, you said something very sweet,” she said. “You said you want to bring honor to your father and Shannon. I can empathize with that. I grew up not really being looked at much. Shannon was always the pretty one, getting the guys’ attention. I was the nerd, wearing glasses and focusing on my schoolwork, who didn’t get much attention from the boys. I want to fight for those who can’t speak for themselves, and Shannon is like that. I know this is a tangent, but just thought you should know.”
I wanted to hug her, thank her, maybe even kiss her... on the forehead, that was. I just wanted to show my appreciation without it getting weird. The more time I spent with her, though, the harder that was.
“But yes, I’ll see what I can do,” she said. “It won’t be hard, especially since Beth has wanted me to look into the drug activity of the Saints.”
“Well, there you go,” I said with a laugh. “I can tell you we don’t do drugs. We fight, I mean, work to keep that out of Springsville.”
“Keep it that way,” Angela said with what I swore was a flirtatious look. “I’d hate to think I’d have to come down on you for that.”
“Oh, heavens no,” I said, suddenly feeling a little more playful thanks to Angela’s look and my laugh just moments ago. “If you want to come down on me for something, you could come down on me for... ”
I looked around the room and spoke to the first thing I saw.
“For beating your ass at pool.”
“Oh?” she said, arching an eyebrow. “You know you’re talking to someone who was a known pool shark in her law school, right?”
I didn’t mean to, but I laughed so hard that my shoulder actually started to hurt.
“All respect, darling,” I said, only realizing half a second later that I’d given her a pet name. “But you’re not going to beat me in pool. A bunch of rich kids who play in the basement of their school’s student center got nothing on some motorcycle enthusiasts.”
“Prove it.”
She’s bold. It’s little wonder that she came up to me that day at the shop. You don’t do that if you don’t have guts.
“Alright,” I said. “Loser has to buy the winner a drink.”
Angela more than accepted the deal, initiating the handshake with a firm grip. She even asked the bartender for the balls while I went to get the pool sticks. It was only then that I realized this was probably a bad idea, given that I had a bum shoulder, but it was definitely too late to back out now.
The real question, of course, was if this was a bad idea for more reasons than just the bum shoulder. Had I really called her here because I wanted to talk about the Saints? I didn’t think I’d given her anything new compared to our discussion yesterday.
Or... had I done so because I wanted to further explore the feelings I’d gotten when I held her?
I had to admit, much as it still felt a little sacrilegious, it wasn’t like going to the club for that meeting had done much good in not thinking about Angela. I was focused during the meeting itself, but as soon as Patriot had walked out, my mind went right back to her. I think my logical mind created a justification for texting her and arranging something, but I knew the truth.
I was starting to like her.
She was cute, she was sweet, she could now apparently spitball a little bit over pool, and she had a fire I had only seen in one other girl. I had taken a lot of caution to make sure I didn’t constantly compare Angela to Shannon. I had to make sure I didn’t try and create Angela into the second version of Shannon, but...
It was something that, for better or for worse, I was now pursuing, my emotions steering my actions much more than my rational mind. Granted, we were a long, long way from doing anything that would create real confusion, but there was one problem with that.
I knew too damn well how to get to that spot where feelings would get involved, and things would get confusing. I was too good at understanding and flirting with women. Just because I hadn’t done so in the past year didn’t mean I had forgotten anything.
But at this point, all I could do was just remain present, because frankly, even with the bum shoulder, the present was pretty good. The members of the club were starting to respect me more, and I currently had a great woman before me. No talk of the club. Just flirt and have fun.
“So, Angela,” I said as she approached with the rack of balls. “Tell me, how does one become a pool shark at a law school? I can’t imagine that you all have such a challenge when most people are so afraid to say things for fear of implicating their careers.”
“Oh, don’t you worry, pretty boy,” she said.
Oh, so she’s feeling the same way I am. This is going to be interesting.
“Just because everyone else plays a soft game and is only competing for bragging rights doesn’t mean I am too. I may find out that you’re a great white, but I’m still a tiger shark at worst.”
“Alright, alright, beautiful,” I said. “If you’re so good, I’ll let you break. Just be careful— for someone who looks like you, I’d hate to have you cheat by distracting me so.”
Angela smirked at me, deliberately bent over, and landed a break that knocked in two solids. And just like that, I was already behind.
“See, here’s the part that you forget, Lane,” she said. “I don’t need to distract you if you don’t ever get a shot.”
She lined up from the far corner, knocked the cue ball into the five ball, and smirked at me as it landed in the hole. Shit. I severely underestimated her.
“Well, don’t let me distract you then,” I said, unbuttoning the buttons on my long sleeve shirt.
Underneath it, a firm chest and the outline of my upper abs popped out. I saw Angela trying not to look, but she couldn’t help herself. Her next shot hit the seven ball, but it ricocheted right where it would have gone in. Now it was my turn to take over—granted, down three, but that was nothing compared to some of the situations I had found myself in before.
“I guess I distracted you, huh?” I said.
“Bad players resort to bad tactics,” she said with a playful shrug.
Boy, this is picking up steam real quick, huh? Like we both knew this was heading in this direction from the beginning, and we just needed the excuse to break down the barriers.
“We’ll see.”
To prove the point, I didn’t even look at her as I proceeded to tie the game, leaving us each with four balls before going for the eight ball. I did this despite having my bum shoulder, forced to using my arm as a sort of dummy block instead of an active part of the game.
“Are you going to try and distract me?” I said with a wink.
“Nope,” she said. “I know that the pressure is on you right now. If I lose, I’m supposed to lose to a biker.”
“Oh? A shark would never say that.”
“What would a shark say?”
The thought that came to mind was one that I honestly would have suppressed if it had appeared even three minutes before, but now that my emotions and my lust were controlling me, it was one I didn’t even bother to censor at all.
“From here on out, in addition to the drink,” I said dramatically. “The winner gets to do whatever they want with the loser.”
“Oh?” Angela said.
Her face blushed. I smiled at her and narrowed my eyes. It was the perfect setup for what would come after the game.
“Here in the bar, of course,” I said. “It has to be done immediately after the game ends, within five seconds. You catch my drift?”
I knew she did. She was trying to play coy a little bit, but I knew she knew what I meant. She couldn’t help herself—her expression gave her away.
“Okay,” she said, lips pursed with a head nod. “You got yourself a deal.”
It was all I needed to hear. I then got the next three balls in before I finally missed on the last one, giving Angela a chance to make a rally.
And boy, rally she did. We were so intensely focused on the game that neither of us said a word. Of course, that didn’t mean we didn’t try and distract the other. Our eyes were locked in on the other. If either of us had looked up from our shots, they would have seen an attractive member of the opposite sex gazing at them with what could only be called “come hither” eyes.
Angela got all the way down to clearing all the solids, leaving her with just the eight ball. I still hadn’t said anything, but now, this far into the game, I finally let her hear something.
“Don’t choke,” I said with a smirk.
She looked at me, arched an eyebrow, and called out the far-left corner pocket for her to sink the ball. She lined up her cue, took a few seconds, shot... and missed.
I could have sworn by the way that she missed that she had done so on purpose. The look on her face was not exactly one of true frustration, either, leading me to believe that she wanted me to do whatever it was I was planning to do.
I already knew what that was, of course. I just didn’t want to spoil the fun so early.
I sunk my one striped ball remaining, but it didn’t give me a great angle to work with. I decided to play the bounce on the far side, hoping for a table-length sinking of a shot. I called it out, and Angela looked at me with the most seductive eyes I’d seen yet.
“Let’s see if you got the skills to back up your talk,” she said.
Oh, you have no idea.
I lined up the shot, even using my bum shoulder more than I had before. I had to sink this shot. For what I wanted to do to her, I had to—and I sure as hell couldn’t let her be the one to initiate it.
I shot.
The cue ball ran down the length of the table. It collided with the eight ball which slowly... accurately...
and steadily moved to the corner.
It moved... it moved... it hovered....
And then it fell in.
“Oh, shit,” Angela said.
But I didn’t even give her a chance to say anything else.
I went over to her, put my hands on her cheeks, closed my eyes, and pulled her in for a kiss.
Angela
From the second that Lane said he wanted to do whatever he wanted if he won, I knew exactly how this would end.
For perhaps the first time in my life, I was more than willing to lose a pool game.
Had he not made that add-on to the bet, there was no way I was going to let him win. Absolutely no chance, I was too competitive and determined to do so. But when he gave it and I understood what he meant by it... let’s just say that when I had a chance to sink the eight ball, I could have easily done it even with twenty percent of the skill I had.
But instead, I “slipped” on the shot, saw it miss, and then watched with delight as Lane pocketed the eight ball. He walked over to me, and though I expected him to say something flirtatious, the way in which he moved was even hotter.
He didn’t have to say anything. His kiss contained a thousand words.
Our lips were gently pressed on each other at first. I desperately wanted him to nibble on my lip, but I didn’t want to come on too strong, either. I didn’t do great with casual, and though we hadn’t even discussed the idea of a relationship, I didn’t want to give him the idea that I could just be kissed and immediately have my clothes off in public.
Slowly, though, he started to pick up the pace, and I reciprocated. My mouth opened and allowed his tongue to enter. My hand went up and down his firm chest and abs, feeling every rivet between his individual abdominals. I craved him more and found myself going from romantically interested to sexually aroused. It was getting so fucking dangerous, and it was thrilling.
I hadn’t had sex in so long. Fuck, I couldn’t help myself. Fuck...
I needed....
I needed to step back.