Truth be told, she missed Lily, who had disappeared on a belated honeymoon. Three weeks—that’s how long it’d been since they’d talked on the phone. Oh, she received the occasional text message or caught updates on Facebook, but it would be another month before Lily returned from Paris. To be fair, Tina had been invited to France. Not wanting to be the third wheel, she had declined, using work as an excuse.
Get over it, Tina thought as she slid out of her SUV, her five-inch stilettos hitting gravel. Change made Tina uncomfortable—blame it on her upbringing. She clicked across the street, her midthigh-length skirt blowing up in the fall wind. She smoothed it down as she approached the entrance, where a doorman perched on a barstool just outside the glass doors, waiting to card whoever wanted to go inside.
“Tina,” Chris said. “Alone tonight?”
Nice to see a familiar face. She smiled. “I’m bored.”
“You, alone on a Friday?” He didn’t sound convinced. “Guess you should have given me another try,” he said nonchalantly, stamping her hand so she could buy alcoholic drinks.
She wasn’t into second chances. After a few dates, she’d lost interest in him. “Thought the owner was going to drop the under-twenty-one crowd.”
“Thursday and Friday nights only—he makes too much money when live bands are playing.”
“Understandable.” She opened the door. “Talk soon?” she called over her shoulder, focusing on the throng of drinkers gathered nearby.
“Lunch?”
She caught Chris’s last words as the heavy door shut behind her. The bass from the large speakers hanging overhead reverberated through her chest. The marquee listed No Trust, a Scottish rock band that frequented the Texas nightclub circuit. A strange blend of bold guitar riffs and electronic bagpipes surprisingly appealed to her.
Finding an empty spot at the bar, she ordered a whiskey sour and turned to check out the band. Through the sea of swaying bodies and seizure-triggering strobe lights, she found a focal point on the stage. After nursing her drink for half an hour, she decided to head to the booths in the back.
“Tina?”
She didn’t recognize the voice and kept walking.
“Valentina Bethel?”
She stopped dead in her tracks—no one used her full name, except her mother when she was pissed off.
Dark, kaleidoscope eyes met hers. Oh God, the douchebag from three weeks ago. A client she helped get probation instead of a jail sentence. First-time offender or not, she didn’t socialize with clients. And the sooner she made that abundantly clear, the better.
“Hello, Mr. Barnes,” she said.
“Please.” He edged closer. “Call me Kline.”
She eyed his designer suit with distaste. The wealthy bastard had assaulted his ex-fiancée for getting an abortion. “I can’t do that, Mr. Barnes. Please respect my privacy, I’m here to enjoy myself. If you need to discuss your case, feel free to call my office on Tuesday.” She turned to go, but he touched her arm.
“One drink.”
“No.” She backed away, wanting to put distance between them. “I don’t fraternize with clients.” Without giving him a second look, she continued on her path and found an empty booth.
A server placed a napkin on the table in front of her. “Can I get you anything?”
“A whiskey sour.” She preferred drinking the same thing. “Easy on the ice.”
The waitress smiled and headed for the bar. No Trust started a new song with a haunting bagpipe solo. She watched in amazement as the redheaded lead singer hummed into his microphone while the musician took center stage, his dark blue and black checkered kilt showcasing a set of muscular legs. A girl could dream…Then a violinist joined in—the acoustics in the bar were amazing. The crowd was silenced by the music.
“Did I do something to offend you, Ms. Bethel?”
Obviously the asshole didn’t take rejection well. Tina peered up at him, his expression indiscernible. “I thought I made myself clear, Mr. Barnes.”
“Did you?” His eyes widened in challenge. “Women typically say one thing but mean another.”
She had been exposed to a lot of unsavory characters in her profession as a junior associate attorney, but Kline Barnes made her skin crawl more than most. With his privileged education, there was no excuse for what he’d done. “Shall I speak in plainer terms?” she asked, irritation setting in. “Get the hell away from my table.”
Her harsh tone didn’t have a visible effect.
“Pretty sure I’m well within my rights to stand here.” He crossed his arms over his chest.
She’d love to smack the smug look off his face; his behavior bordered on harassment. But she’d rather leave than deal with it. She should have trusted her gut the minute she parked and reconsidered going inside. Sometimes she didn’t like spending time alone at home. If she did, her overactive imagination caught up with her and she remembered all those failed relationships. Fifteen boyfriends, three marriage proposals, and one canceled wedding. Not exactly a winning record. In fact, her win/loss record as an attorney was more impressive. Not something to brag about.
She unzipped her purse and grabbed a five-dollar bill from her wallet. She slapped it on the table for the waitress, then stood up, avoiding Kline.
Without a word, she rushed for the exit, happy to call it a night.
Fifteen minutes into her drive home, lights reflected back at her from her rearview mirror. A black Mercedes tailed her, dangerously close. Traffic on South Padre Island Drive was light; most people were still out partying at the clubs. She signaled to change lanes, slowing down to 45 mph. The sedan did the same. Then she switched to the fast lane, accelerating to 75 mph, well over the speed limit. Again, the Mercedes kept pace behind her.
“Shit!” No doubt Barnes was following her.
She decided not to lead him to her apartment complex. And what would she tell a 911 operator? In cases like this, unfortunately, the police were reactive—often unable to do anything preventive. Fear and paranoia didn’t constitute the right to arrest somebody for a crime they hadn’t committed yet. One of the fatal flaws in modern law.
With Lily and Lang out of town and her officemates gone, too, her options were limited. Lily’s husband was the former president of the Sons of Odin, a one-percenter motorcycle club based in Flour Bluff. It had been months since she’d visited the club-owned bar, Valhalla. But some of the Brothers and old ladies knew Tina. And Lang had extended an open invitation. An offer she couldn’t pass up right now.
She checked her rearview again. The black car was still in pursuit.
Speeding all the way down Laguna Shores Road, a long, curvy two-lane street that ran adjacent to the water, she finally pulled into a parking lot, then checked her rearview again. Gone—the Benz was nowhere to be seen. Maybe she should wait a couple minutes and make sure Barnes had given up, then drive home—problem solved. She tapped her fingers on the steering wheel and gazed at the bright neon sign on the familiar white brick building—VALHALLA. It had never looked so good.
Lust spiked inside her. Every time she thought about the Sons of Odin or this place, she remembered Vincent, Lang’s best friend. A man she could never get enough of. After experiencing someone as creepy as Kline Barnes, she needed someone as big and strong as Vince to scare the shit out of Barnes. If she were being honest, she’d admit how nervous she was knowing he might be here. But Tina had a way of ignoring her fear. She jumped out of her car, all attention focused on the front doors.
“Tina?” Barnes’s voice sounded from somewhere behind her.
Tension set in. How did he beat her here? Or was she imagining it? Her gaze zigzagged around the dark parking lot. No one. Blame it on adrenaline.
She’d had her fair share of problems with men but hardly qualified as a trouble magnet. Blessed with a quick mind and a gift for sarcasm, she usually deflected unwanted attention with ease. Not this time. Was he a serial stalker? Did seeing her trigger some kind of psychotic break
with reality? She’d won his case, sparing him the usual two-year prison sentence for the assault charge, so he had no reason to be angry.
She needed to get inside.
She gasped as she barreled into something solid and skidded backward on her heels. Unable to keep her balance, she twisted her ankle as she dropped to her knee.
“Holy shit,” another male voice rumbled. “Are you okay?”
Tina snapped her eyes shut for a split second, appreciative that she’d found someone to talk to.
“Tell me you’re all right?”
Wait—she recognized that Barry White baritone. She gazed up as Vincent lifted her to her feet.
“Tina?”
“Vincent?” She smiled, his concerned expression a welcome sight. When she tried to put pressure on her right foot, she winced in pain. “Crap.”
“You’re hurt.” He gazed down at her foot. “In a hurry?”
More than he’d ever know. “I—um.” Speechless. She’d met Vincent the same night her best friend met her husband a year ago. Apparently he still intimidated her—all six-foot-five of his muscular frame. “Yeah,” she admitted. “Some asshole followed me from downtown. I didn’t know where else to go.”
Vincent snaked his arm around her waist, thankfully supplying the extra support she needed to stand. “Where?”
“He called out to me a second before I collided with you. His name is Kline Barnes, he drives a black Benz.”
Vincent scanned the farthest reaches of the parking lot. “I don’t see anyone. How well do you know this guy?”
“Not personally. He’s a client at my law office. That’s what confuses me most—I won his case a few weeks ago. He pled no contest on an assault charge and I brokered a reduced sentence. It’s a matter of public record.”
He rubbed his chin. “You’re safe now. Let’s get you to the clubhouse; Doc can check your ankle.” He swept her into his strong arms and headed for the compound behind the bar.
She stared at the clear nighttime sky full of stars. By whatever providence she’d arrived at Valhalla at the same moment Vincent was outside, she didn’t care. She liked being in his arms again.
Love stories you’ll never forget
By authors you’ll always remember
eOriginal Romance from Random House
readloveswept.com
Follow us online for the latest new releases, giveaways, exclusive sneak peeks, and more!
readloveswept
readloveswept
What’s next on
your reading list?
Discover your next
great read!
* * *
Get personalized book picks and up-to-date news about this author.
Sign up now.
Persuasion Page 21