Darcey wanted to yank those lips right off her face.
It made no logical sense. This woman was probably a really great person, and who could blame her for wanting a piece of Joe Colton? Not Darcey. She understood completely. The pretty brunette didn’t have a chance once she entered his gravitational pull. But that didn’t make Darcey despise her any less. It didn’t stop the jealousy from pounding through her until she was close to exploding out of her clothes and Hulking out in the restroom.
“Can I help you?”
Darcey blinked, realizing she’d been staring at the other woman for a good long while. She opened her mouth then shut it.
Those pouty lips thinned, eyes raking her from head to toe. “Sorry, I don’t have any spare change.”
Darcey straightened. “What?”
“Or whatever the hell you want. You’re giving me the creeps staring at me like that. Get lost, or I’ll have security throw you out.” She turned away and fluffed her hair. “Trash belongs out on the street.”
That’s when Darcey made a decision—not a wise one, hell no, but a decision all the same. Maybe if this woman hadn’t been such a nasty cow, she could have forced herself to turn the other way and get gone. Unfortunately for all concerned, that wasn’t what happened.
In three small steps, Darcey was in front of her. “Joe is mine. You go near him, I’ll break both your arms and slap you around with your own hands, understand?”
The woman blinked down at her. “Joe?”
She didn’t even know his name? “The guy you’ve been hanging off. He’s mine, so back the fuck up.”
Joe’s new friend narrowed her eyes. “He didn’t mention you when he asked me to go home with him.”
Darcey’s blood pressure spiked. She was acting crazy. She was also fully aware of that, but right then, she didn’t give one crap. Instead, she discretely slid her mother’s wedding ring—the one her dad had given her mom—off her middle finger and onto her ring finger. She lifted her hand and pointed to it. Anger, and so many other ugly emotions, crowded her mind, jostling for stage time. There was no way of stopping this runaway freight train, not now. “Did he happen to mention he was married? What about our kids? Did he mention them?”
The brunette jerked back. “Kids?”
Darcey stared at her.
“He didn’t say, he… Sorry, I had no idea.”
Hitching her purse over her shoulder, the other woman stormed past Darcey and out the door. And she looked really pissed off.
She wouldn’t, would she?
Crap. Spinning on her boots, Darcey raced after her, watching in horror as the other woman stormed through the crowd and up to Joe.
She would.
Joe’s sexy grin slipped when he looked down at his new friend—only now she wasn’t looking so…ah, friendly. Darcey could see her mouth moving rapidly. Joe frowned and started to shake his head as she reared back and slapped him across the face. Then without a backward glance, she stormed out. Joe stood there, stunned, and Adam, who was back beside him, bust out laughing.
Darcey stood frozen, shocked at what she’d just done. At how fucked up it was. She’d lost her goddamn mind.
She needed to get the hell out of there, but dammit, she couldn’t make her feet move, not when she saw Joe scanning the room. Not when those dark brown eyes slid to hers and held.
Her belly dipped.
Joe’s lip curled, and he pushed away from the bar.
Oh shit.
Chapter Three
Joe bit out a curse and strode through the club after his stalker. Her eyes widened and she spun, long dark hair flying out behind her as she sprinted back the way she’d come. He gave up trying to be polite and shoved through the people blocking his path, breaking into a run as soon as he hit the hall to the restrooms.
The door that led out to the alley between the bar and Dan’s Burritos was ajar. He shoved it open and ran out after her. Nothing. He jogged up to the crowded street. Gone. The bitch had vanished. “Fuck.”
“What the hell was that all about?” Adam said, coming up behind him.
Joe forced himself to breath evenly instead of snorting oxygen through his nostrils like a pissed off rodeo bull, then turned to his friend. “Thought I saw someone I know.”
Adam’s eyes narrowed. “Must want to catch up with them pretty fuckin’ bad.”
Joe headed back toward the door. “You could say that.”
Adam followed him in, and thankfully, said no more. He just wanted to get the fuck gone. Having your face slapped in front of an entire bar full of people was kind of a mood killer. The beer he’d drunk sat like a fucking rock in his gut. He shoved a hand through his hair and cursed. Yeah, staying here was pointless. He only had one woman on his mind now. A curvy, sexy, psychotic little stalker who had just told the chick he’d planned to hook up with that she was his motherfucking wife and the mother of his children.
What in the every-loving fuck?
The girl needed psychiatric treatment. What was she playing at? He didn’t get it. Why would Al give two shits about who he stuck his dick into? He delivered the cars he owed on time, every fucking month, without failure. So what was with the watchdog? Or did cock-blocking him just amuse her?
“I’m out,” he said to Adam, who was back talking to the redhead he’d set his sights on.
His friend gave him a chin lift. Joe did the same and strode out. He couldn’t help scan the street as he headed for home. Was she watching him now, following him?
He’d reached the edge of his patience.
Enough was enough. She was in for a surprise if she had the stones to show up at his garage tomorrow, that was for fucking sure.
He clenched his teeth when a surge of lust fired through him at the idea of confronting her, of getting in her space. Jesus. How the hell could he still want her? It made literally no logical sense. But he did. He couldn’t stop thinking about the way she’d taken his hand and led him from the bar that night, into the same alley he’d just chased her into. The way her round ass had swayed as she’d walked ahead of him. The way she’d shoved him against the wall.
Fuck, the way she’d climbed him like a climbing wall, wrapped her thighs around his waist, and kissed the fuck out of him. Until her soft moans and urgent touches had him losing control completely. He’d spun, pushing her against the brick building, taking over the kiss—so damn hungry for more, he hadn’t been able to think straight.
His fingers had grazed the smooth, warm skin of her taut belly, and his cock had been more than on board with the idea of fucking her then and there. But she’d pushed him away suddenly and taken off. Leaving him worried that he’d somehow freaked her out, hurt her. That he’d read the signs wrong and somehow scared her.
That’s why these feelings, this lust pounding through him, pissed him off so damn much.
She’d been fucking with him. Playing another one of her games. The fact that he was hard as iron over a sick, twisted, little psychopath—Al’s niece, no less—was fucking with his head.
His mood hadn’t improved when he finally walked into his apartment a short time later, because when he stripped off and climbed into bed, she was still there. When he shut his eyes, all he could see was her traitorous face while a screwed up feeling of anticipation fired through his veins, making it impossible to sleep.
Darcey had made her move.
Tomorrow, he’d make his.
~ * ~
Joe cranked the music up, not in the mood to listen to his brother bitch at him.
Hugh turned it back down, planting his huge frame between Joe and the stereo, and scowled. “What the fuck’s crawled up your ass?”
Joe shook his head. “Just because I don’t have rainbows and unicorns coming out of mine”—he gave his brother a hard look—“doesn’t mean there’s something wrong.”
His brother rested his meaty fists on his hips. “Enough with the goddamn unicorns already. And I know there’s something wrong because you’ve been
a pissy fuck the last couple of days, and I’m goddamn sick of it.”
Joe ground his teeth. “Whatever.”
“You’re sulking.”
“Sulking? Christ. I’ve got shit to do. You finished with the third degree?”
Hugh’s jaw hardened. Not good. The bastard wasn’t only as big as a bear; he was as stubborn as one, too. “I haven’t even started, baby brother.”
Joe seriously did not need this shit today.
A scrape came from behind him a second before Adam added his two cents. “He needs to get laid. Hasn’t been the same since he got shot down a couple nights ago.”
Hugh’s brows lifted. “You got shot down?”
Joe felt his blood pressure rise. “It happens.”
“So this”—he motioned to Joe, hand circling and scowling harder—“this face that currently looks like a slapped ass… This is because you haven’t had any tail in a few days?”
Adam snorted. “Says the man who isn’t exactly suffering in that department.”
Hugh’s gaze slid to Adam. “Don’t fucking talk about Shay like that.”
“Like what? I didn’t say a damn thing.”
Another growl. “Don’t compare my fiancée to your one-night hookups.”
Adam lifted his hands in surrender. “Shit, whatever.”
“When did you last have a night alone? Huh?” his brother added, on a roll.
Now Adam was scowling, too. “We’re not talking about me.” The guy’s expression went blank like it always did when they called him out on his revolving bedroom door. “We’re talking about Joe and his blue balls.”
“Jesus.” Joe threw the screwdriver in his hand onto the workbench beside Hugh before he could stab Adam in the junk and headed for the door. It was closing time anyway, and he had business to take care of—cars to steal. “I’m out,” he called over his shoulder and climbed the stairs to his apartment.
He hated to admit it, but Hugh was right; he had been in a foul mood. She hadn’t showed. The last two days, he’d been waiting, looking out for that beaten-up Toyota to pull up across the street. He’d thought of nothing else. Had checked every goddamn hour, but she hadn’t showed.
How dare she fuck with him then vanish? Leave him stewing with no idea when she’d be back. If she’d be back.
So yeah, he was pissy, and tired—and dammit, “blue balls” wasn’t far off the mark. And he sure as hell didn’t want to analyze why he was in that condition and who’d caused it.
After a round with his punching bag, followed by a quick shower, he changed into a suit—he fucking hated wearing suits—then shoved down some food, even though he wasn’t hungry, killing time until it was dark enough for him to go back out.
Finally, he headed downtown, taking the bus. Not fun, but less chance of getting noticed or recognized if something went wrong. Week nights downtown meant business dinners, working late, people catching a show, shopping, galleries, partying… The choices were endless, and it was an excellent place to scout for the cars on the list Al’s henchmen had kindly delivered to him this month. He was given the make, model, and year, and he did not deviate. If he didn’t get what was required that month, he got another added to his sentence as interest.
That wasn’t happening. He’d make sure of it.
He headed to the Milton Bar, located on the roof of the Gallery Hotel. The place was members only, the clientele loaded—often famous—the majority more than likely assholes. At least thinking that helped him sleep better at night. The idea of taking some single, struggling mother’s car was not something he could stomach. Which was why he chose carefully and took his time, going for the least collateral damage.
He’d never been inside the exclusive bar, but he’d stolen one or two cars from around here. The cars he usually picked up weren’t this showy, this obvious. Tonight would be risky, especially without Hugh or Adam, but what choice did he have? He wasn’t shitting all over Hugh’s rainbow parade. His brother was finally happy, and Joe planned on keeping it that way. He owed Hugh for a lot of things, but mostly for what he’d done for their family, all he’d sacrificed to keep them afloat. Which meant his big brother could never find out that their father’s debt wasn’t cleared, but instead, had transferred to Joe. And Adam…well, he didn’t need to be sticking his neck out for them, not anymore. It wasn’t his mess to clean up.
Shoving all the extra crap from his mind, he focused on what he was here to do.
He’d known this particular car would be the hardest to find, so he’d taken his time, found just the right one, and learned the owner’s routine. Every Tuesday night, the guy came to The Milton. He just hoped that tonight he hadn’t decided to deviate from that routine. Parking was valet only, but the guy always parked out front, in one of the coveted, reserved spots.
Sliding his hands into the pockets of his trousers, he headed down the street like he belonged there, like he wore business suits and ties all the damn time. It felt like a noose around his neck. He gripped the “code grabber” devise in his fist and headed straight for the Porsche. He’d invested in the fairly inexpensive gadget when he’d seen this car on his list a few weeks ago. He knew it would make boosting a car like this a hell of a lot easier since it had to be done out in the open. He’d followed the guy here last week and used it to intercept the signal sent out by the owner’s key fob. When he’d used it, Joe’s devise recorded it, and if everything worked like it should, it would just be a matter of walking up, hitting a button to unlock it, then getting the fuck gone.
He hoped like hell it worked. This car was due next week. He didn’t have time to start the search all over again.
He was only two car lengths away when he felt it. A prickling at the back of his neck, sliding to the base of his spine.
She was back.
He discretely scanned the street. Did she really think he wouldn’t know she was there? He’d noticed her absence acutely, infuriatingly.
There.
She stood on the other side of the street, leaning against a building like she was casually waiting for someone, a book in her hand, head down, and hair falling forward, covering most of her face. Her clothes were fitted, hugging those sexy curves. A surge of anger welled up inside him. He didn’t want to think about her tits, and he definitely didn’t want his cock rising to attention whenever he laid eyes on the she-devil, but that’s exactly what happened.
Before he knew what he was doing, he veered off course, crossing the street and heading straight for her. He was four steps away before she knew he was coming. Her gaze lifted, peering over the top of her book, and when she saw him, her head shot up, eyes widening.
She turned to bolt, but he grabbed her arm before she could take her first retreating step.
She yelped, trying to pull away.
“Hey now, hold up. Don’t go running off so fast.” He yanked her closer. “I think it’s time you and I had a chat, don’t you?”
She tried to tug her arm free again.
He held on tighter. “Come on now, honey bunch. Don’t you have a few minutes to spare your husband?”
She paled. “Let me go.”
“You’re not going anywhere until you tell me what the fuck is going on. Why you’ve been following me.” Her curves were pressed against him, distracting as hell. He hissed and gritted out, “Among other things.”
She shook her head, her long dark hair shimmying, tickling the back of his hand still curled around her toned bicep. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“No?”
She bit her lip, and his dick started to pulse.
“Don’t feed me that bullshit. I fucking saw you the other night at the bar. I know you said something to her, to…” Shit, he couldn’t think of her name. “The woman I’d been talking to…”
Darcey snorted.
“What?”
Her eyes lit up with something like triumph. “You didn’t even know her name.”
“So?” The word came out a gro
wl.
Her cheeks immediately turned an intriguing shade of pink.
“So not only did you fuck up my life, and nearly fucked up my brother’s life, but now you’ve appointed yourself protector of virtues, rescuing poor, unsuspecting women from me?”
Her mouth opened then snapped shut.
“Because of you, sweetheart, I’m still a thief. Because of you, my brother nearly lost his woman. Besides working on cars, fucking is the only joy I have left in my shitty life. I figure I need to screw as often as I can while I still can. I could get caught and go to prison any damn time. Sinking into a hot, beautiful woman is the only solace I have from the hell you’ve thrown me into.”
Her face got redder and her dark eyes—that he’d always thought were brown—seemed to glow brighter. They were blue. The darkest blue he’d ever seen. Her breathing grew faster, forcing those soft, round tits to press deeper into his side.
“You get in my way again, we’ll have a serious problem, understand?”
She looked furious now, and he couldn’t work out why.
“Fine, now let me the hell go,” she fired at him.
“Answer me.”
Her jaw got tight. “Fine.”
She tried again to pull away, but her hard nipples, poking him through her T-shirt, had his grip tightening instead of releasing. She stilled, her gaze sliding to his lips, and he sucked in a rough breath.
No way. No fucking way. Did she want him to kiss her?
Before he could engage his brain, words formed, taking hold of his vocal cords. He moved closer, forcing her back until she was against the wall behind her. “Unless there’s something else you want…”
“Your car’s gone.”
Joe blinked down at her. “What?”
She winced. “The Porsche—the car you came for. It just drove away.”
He released her and spun around. It was halfway down the street. “Fuck.”
Spin (Boosted Hearts Book 2) Page 3