Lawbreaker (Unbreakable Book 3)

by Kat Bastion

  If I need anything...

  What did I need? I couldn’t tell anymore. Want had begun to battle need.

  I watched as Ben left to join his friends and thought about all that he represented in my world.

  Danger.

  The second the reality hit me, I blew all the stupid remaining indecision out of my mind. Then I focused on Ben’s broken rule, reenacted it, and made it my own: strictly business.

  Ben had already put his boss hat on anyway, had done so seconds after we’d finished the eighteenth hole. I’d felt the shift, recognized the heavy silence.

  And he’d just taken a seat with his friends, ensconcing himself back into his world. Even though he still faced my way with intent focus—ever the watchful eye over me.

  With every passing second, I grew grateful for the renewed physical distance between us. Gave me a chance to breathe. Find my rhythm again. Prove myself worthy in a world I’d abandoned long ago.

  Carve my place in it.

  How would I accomplish that? Do what I’d always done.

  Take stock of the general situation.

  Identify everyone’s strengths and weaknesses. Exploit them.

  Discover what others were good at. Be better.

  A sprinkling of single members sat here and there at a few of the other fifty tables decked out for the big event. Scalloped edges of white tablecloths rippled in the slight breeze. Centerpieces bursting with violet, fuchsia, and canary-colored blooms bobbed and swayed. Place settings stood at rigid attention, their silver flatware and crystal stemware shining and sparkling in invitation to a weary player to sit, rest, and dine.

  In the opposite direction, from the rise that led down from the eighteenth hole, a caravan of golf carts had begun to appear in slow succession. Each pair of tournament players coasted down the meandering concrete path toward the golf valets. They were then directed to my bar station, situated just beyond.

  But I remained calm, shoulders relaxed, breaths steady, ready for my impending customers.

  And even though I didn’t fit in with Ben’s county-club world, I would blend. Had done it before.

  And Ben does not affect me. What I tried to convince myself of. Because it didn’t matter what I wore—my clothes or the ones he’d bought me, his glasses to shield my eyes or none at all—those assessing stares he kept blasting my way made me feel naked, fully exposed.

  “You do not affect me,” I clipped out right as my first thirsty foursome approached the bar. On a deep sigh, I smiled at them, grateful for the distraction.

  Other players trickled in, men and women, two or four at a time, placing their drink orders. And I filled each at an easy pace. Whiskey. Bourbon. White wine. Dry martini.

  Soon the floodgates opened, and I hustled, waiting on first-timers parched after their eighteen holes plus the repeaters wanting refills. But just as fast as the chaos had erupted, it soon died down. Players began taking their seats around the beautifully dressed tables and waitstaff took over their beverage needs.

  At various points, before gourmet salads were brought out, then again before the aromas of grilled fish, roasted chicken, and charbroiled steaks filled the air, a lone male guest would wander over to fill his drink from my station, clearly flirting. Two were younger guys. One was old enough to be my grandfather.

  Every time it happened, Ben stared my way.

  Unable to help myself, I smiled and tipped my head toward Ben. Tough, Bo Peep. Part of the job. Then I turned away from him to focus on serving my fawning but misled customers.

  About ninety minutes later, after the dining players had been served lunch and dessert and their plates had been cleared, announcements were made that the award ceremony was about to begin. A handful of guests hit the bar immediately, and I refreshed their drinks.

  Then I planted my right butt cheek on a stool behind the bar and leaned my forearms on the bar top, alone again.

  Until seconds later, I wasn’t.

  Ben appeared on my left, sans sunglasses. His forearms, heavily muscled under taut skin, came to rest on the bar top parallel to mine, with less than an inch between them. As I stared at that innocent gap, I remembered how those strong arms had wrapped around me and had to focus to keep my breaths steady. My pulsed kicked up a notch anyway, my body thrilling with its memory of his sensual heat, of the simultaneous danger and safety.

  “How’re you holding up?” He glanced my way.

  I was fine until you came along.

  I blew out a slow breath as I counted, trying to calm down. One...two...three... “Fine.”

  “Need a break?”

  From you? Yes. “No. I’m good.” I’d stood without a break for more hours that were left in the afternoon, countless times. No way I’d wimp out because I was suddenly on the clock—or at mortal risk of meltdown due to guy-proximity.

  “Where’d you learn to bartend like that?”

  Okay. Cool. Business talk. My blood pressure began to equalize.

  “The library.”

  “Is that a bar?”

  “No, it’s a building downtown. It houses books.” I paused, long enough to catch amusement spark in his eyes. “People borrow them.”

  “You learned to bartend from books?”

  “Yep. The Joy of Mixology and The Bar Book. Those, and the Internet.”

  “They have the Internet at the library.” His tone flattened in disbelief.

  “Running water and telephones too.”

  He dropped me a deadpan look. “Just surprised me they have computers there and let anyone access the Internet.”

  “Afraid deviants might look at kiddie porn?”

  He arched his brows, concern etched into his face. “Uh, yeah, a little.”

  “Think the library was too. It’s been a while since I’ve used a computer there. Think you now have to log in with your library ID, so they can track the criminals.”

  He fought a smile. “Is that why you haven’t used the computer there in a while?”

  I clutched my chest, pretending to be offended. Then I resumed my prior position, forearm parallel to his, less than an inch between. I wanted to keep the distance he’d initiated, no more, no less. “Yep. Guess you can say I broke my criminal cherry on one of their computers.”

  “Cybercrime?”

  “In a way.” I glanced at him, wondering how much I should reveal, deciding how much I wanted him to know. For some reason, a little bit. Which surprised the hell out of me. “Hacking.”

  He choked out a laugh. “You learned how to hack on a library computer?”

  “Yep.”

  “All by yourself?”

  “Nope. Had a genius instructor.” Rafe. The best.

  “So you never had real-world bartending training?”

  “Nope. Only the three days with Cade at Loading Zone.”

  He winced.

  At the reminder that you’d fired me?

  “Baptism by fire.”

  Ah. Cade’s ruthlessness. I nodded. “I’m a fast learner.”

  “Yeah, you are.” Respect lay in his tone. “You’re good.”

  “I know.” No ego. Pure fact.

  All of a sudden, his forearm moved. We touched, skin to skin. At the moment of contact, an electric current sparked into me. No big. What I told myself. And still, my breath quickened.

  His arm kept moving, in slow motion, twisted enough for him to glide his large palm over my smaller hand. When he stretched to touch my fingertips, I sucked in a quiet gasp.

  He drew in a slow breath. “Go out with me.”

  I stared at our connected hands, watched as his fingers curled between mine, tightening his hold on me.

  What’s wrong with you, Shay? Why aren’t you pulling away from him? “No. You got me to agree to the tournament gala next Saturday. All you are gonna get. Strictly business.”

  His hand gently tightened once more, then released. “I want more. Take the risk. Make it personal.”

  I wanted more. Itched to take that risk. Ache
d to make it personal—with Ben.

  “No,” I whispered. Uncertainty weakened my tone. When I wondered if he picked up on that doubt, I yanked my hand away. But I didn’t budge from my stool. Held my ground.

  Ben didn’t move either. He turned his head slowly, glancing at me. “This Saturday night.”

  I blinked in surprise. Of all the days in the year, this Saturday was special.

  Was there a reason he’d weighted that word?

  Why were those observant eyes staring at me so intently?

  What do you know?

  Didn’t matter. This Saturday? Off-limits. “No. And I will keep shooting you down, no matter what day you choose.” But my curiosity about why he’d singled out that day bulldozed right over my common sense. I did my best to sound indifferent about it. “Why’d you pick Saturday?” I also shook my head and scrunched my face, acting like his picking some arbitrary day made no sense to me.

  That penetrating gaze held mine. His dark eyes narrowed, as if he’d caught me, had detected some weakness. Then he eased back from the bar and gave a slight shrug, matching my indifference to the whole topic of day-selection. “I’m free? It’s a typical date night? And it’s three days from now. Seemed like a decent cooling-off period.”

  Cooling off? He thought I needed time away from him. And damn if it didn’t grind at me just how right he was about that. “No.” I reasserted my stance. Firmly.

  “Sunday, then.”

  Better. I sighed, relieved we’d moved on from Saturday. But no way would I give in now. Some female instinct made me dig my heels in. “No. Still gonna be no, any day of the week.”

  “Okay. Understood.” He gave a single nod, then headed out from behind the bar. He glanced back over his shoulder. “Let me know when you need a break.”

  Thrown by his sudden one-eighty, I nearly fell off the stool as I watched him walk away. Then I stood and planted my feet, suspicion pinging to high alert. He’d given up too easily. And his last statement hit me with greater meaning than just as relief from my shift at the bar.

  I’m not sure you do understand. Or maybe I didn’t; I wanted him...but I didn’t want to want him.

  I’d also wanted to work at his bar. And he’d had the power to rip that away from me.

  What would happen if I trusted someone again? Trusted Ben again? If I let myself want him—if I said yes and he gave himself willingly to me—would he eventually rip that away too?

  “Could I have another?” A deep male voice interrupted my thoughts as an older man slid his empty crystal tumbler across the bar. A pair of female guests approached right behind him.

  My gaze cut to Ben.

  Do you deserve another?

  Had Ben earned a second chance?

  The bigger question was could I handle another? Would I survive it?

  Without any comfortable answer, I shifted course and began filling drink orders.

  Because when powerless, when control of any situation slipped out of my grasp, I immersed myself back into what I’d learned best: ignore what I wanted in order to help others in need.

  A formidable presence materialized near me the instant the activity at my bar died, as the awards ceremony began.

  “Don’t mind me. I promise not to bother you.” A pixie-like girl with dark shoulder-length hair and electric blue eyes settled at the end of the bar, leaning on her forearms, hands clasped loosely together. She stood a good couple of feet into the space behind the bar and about the same distance from me. As promised, she ignored me while she stared over a sea of tables of ten toward the podium.

  “Sure. No big.” But I eyed the valuable liquor within arm’s reach, that I was responsible for—being legit, and all. “And you are?”

  She glanced at me with a warm smile and held out her hand. “Cade’s sister. I’m Kiki.”

  “Oh.” Boom. “Shay.” I shook her hand and suddenly saw the uncanny resemblance, same physical features and welcoming heart. Same stock didn’t mean same essence; I’d found that out in my own heart-wrenching way. But in their case, I sensed their commonality ran deep. “I like Cade.”

  “Me too.” Humor sparked in her eyes.

  She stared at me a beat. Then she glanced in the direction of her brother’s table. Cade and Whoosh were clapping and whooping it up with the crowd at something the announcer had said.

  Ben? Stared our way, dead-serious expression on his face.

  “He’s a great guy, you know.”

  I blinked, confused. “Cade?”

  “Ben.”

  Ah. She’d picked up on his intense vibe toward me. Kinda hard to miss.

  I tore my gaze away from the subject of her statement.

  Then I stared at the announcer. Maybe if I watched something else, listened to anything else, all things Ben would disappear. The announcer’s words filtered into my brain: the punchline of a dirty golf joke.

  The guy’s joke had been weak. But I laughed anyway, for a dozen other thoughts I’d had over the last few days. “I knew I couldn’t be the only one to think all this golf stuff is dirty.”

  Kiki nodded, then glanced at me. “Long stroke.”

  I thought back to phrases the guys had said while we’d played. “Sink it in the hole.”

  “Hole.” Her voice had dropped an octave.

  We burst out laughing.

  “Up and down,” she added.

  “Rigid shaft.” My mind guttered every time I wrapped my hands... “Firm grip.” One after another flooded in. “There could be a fortune made in T-shirts.”

  She pushed up away from the bar on a headshake. “No T-shirts allowed. Collars only.”

  “That’s bullshit.”

  Her brows arched, but she gave me a nod. “Agreed. But golf has rules.”

  Rules. Laws. “Society could do with a shakeup, don’t ya think?”

  Kiki’s eyes suddenly lit up. “You could make golf shirts. Civilized with a hint of raunchy.”

  “What kind of golf shirts?”

  She turned fully toward me, leaning an elbow on the bar. “Like yours. Sleeveless. Embroider a small naughty saying on the collar.”

  “Or maybe even start on one side and finish on the other.”

  She nodded. “That only someone standing up close could read.”

  Excitement charged through me. A split second later, it fizzled right out. “I don’t know the first thing about making shirts.” Let alone selling them to the country-club crowd.

  “Would you be interested in partnering with me?”

  Taken aback by how she’d deferred to my judgment, gave me total control, all the say-so, I blinked, speechless for a moment. “You’d want to do that?”

  “Sure. I’m partnered with Cade and my sisters in Invitation Only, helped create the business from the ground up. And this’ll be even easier. Most of it’ll be creative. And everything we need is on the Internet.”

  I stared at her, still shocked. That someone pure and wholesome would want to team up with me after we’d just met. After I’d hit the streets—because I’d had to—I didn’t trust anyone. Why should anyone trust me?

  However, instinct told me there’d be no safer bet than Kiki.

  “Would it be okay if I thought about it?” Being around her felt right. But still, the world she and Cade and Ben had grown up in was mostly foreign to me. And business? Completely foreign. Maybe I could ask Tony’s opinion...if selling pizza and hot dogs was anything like selling shirts.

  “Of course.” No hesitation or judgment in her voice.

  “Thanks.”

  A greater thrill of excitement fired through me. Relief too. It seemed like I’d made a friend in Ben’s world for no other reason than she liked my wit and trusted me on instinct. That not only felt good, it rang true with everything I’d learned on the streets. Well, the trust part? Only to a point.

  Kiki stared at me a moment longer, blinked with a surprised expression, then grinned, eyes lighting up like she’d just been struck with a genius idea. “You shoul
d come to our barbecue on Friday.”

  “Yeah, you should go.” Ben’s deep voice vibrated right behind me.

  Startled, I spun around.

  He’d planted his forearms on the bar again. Only he stood on the other side, the bar top between us. Rogue locks of hair brushed over the top of those sunglasses that hid his eyes again, but his expression appeared neutral.

  Interesting. Kiki and I had only been together for five minutes, but he’d decided that’d been enough. Did you think we were talking about you? “Are you going?”

  “Depends.”

  I leaned on the bar top, my arms to the side of his, with plenty of safe space between them. “Onnn...”

  “Whether or not my going affects your going.”

  Ah. Interesting. I wielded power. Ben cared about my feelings. And I felt like taking a chance with Kiki and her family. Even with the risk of Ben being there. Maybe because of it. “I’ll go. Whether or not.”

  “Good.” Tone matter-of-fact, his expression remained cool.

  I waited, watching him. When he volunteered no information, I arched a brow at him. “And?”

  “And, what?”

  “Are you going or not?”

  Kiki waved her hands in front of her face at us. “I’m going” —she pointed across the packed luncheon tables toward Cade and Whoosh, who appeared deep in conversation as they stared our way— “over there. So we can all talk about you.”

  Yeah, good luck with figuring us out. I had a hard-enough time standing right in the middle of it. I glanced back at unreadable Ben.

  But before Kiki walked between two waist-high planters that dripped with colorful blooms, she turned and walked backward. “The barbecue will be harmless,” she called out. “It’s at Cade and Hannah’s. My sisters will be there. And you’ve got to meet Mase. He’s a riot.”

  My heart clenched. Family. It all sounded like family. And Kiki wanted to include me.

  She’d negotiated through a couple of tables, then spun around again. “And think about the other thing. We’ll make a killing. And it’ll be a blast.” Then she turned and veered out of sight.

  “What’ll be a blast?”