A quick shopping trip, a visit to the hospital, and I’d be heading back home to change before work. I felt a pleasurable little shiver, wondering if Gabe would show up again.
CHAPTER FIVE
Gabe
Olivia Cunningham wasn’t just Wonder Woman. She was a fucking neighborhood saint.
In the three days since I rented a low-key gray Camry and had been following her around, I’d watched her rocket off to all parts of Detroit on that bike of hers. If she wasn’t teaching self-defense classes to women in the worst areas of town, she was visiting the hospital, or taking a couple of casseroles to the friend whose wife had a baby. Or she was picking up groceries for an elderly neighbor, working her ass off at the bar, leaving a dish of food outside the back door of the bar for a stray pit bull, tinkering with a broken-down car in her driveway, carrying sheets of drywall into that janky house of hers, or hitting some karate dojo a couple of times.
Damn. The woman never stopped moving. I thought she didn’t sleep much, either. But if she did, it was alone, which satisfied me on a primal level. I’d already decided I was going to have her.
But none of this accomplished what I’d come to Detroit for. I was looking for leverage, so when I demanded that she come back to Chicago with me, she wouldn’t have any other options, and now, it was Saturday night again, and I hadn’t come up with a damned thing. Instead, the feeling that I was a creeper had intensified since I’d basically stalked her for the last few days. Something had to give, and it had to give now. I was frustrated in a helluva lot more ways than one.
So, I went to the bar.
It was around eleven, and Olivia was working again, of course. The slow, surprised smile she gave me when I walked through the doors punched me in the gut. Summer was taking another swipe at East Michigan, and the bar was warm and stuffy inside, but Olivia’s only concession to the sudden ninety-degree heat was a black tank top that showed off her smooth, creamy shoulders and lightly muscled arms, paired with her usual dark jeans and combat boots.
My tension simultaneously ratcheted up and eased a little at the sight of her, in a way I couldn’t explain.
“Hey, Gabe,” she said with that sensual deep voice of hers. “I thought you’d either skipped town or found a better bar. You want your usual?”
“Yeah, thanks,” I replied, sitting on a vacant stool and accepting the bottle of stout. “No other bar can offer what this one does.”
She looked at me and cocked her head. “Well, here at The Red Stripe, we pride ourselves on service.” She gave me another one of those slow, simmering smiles, and I felt every drop of blood in my body rush to my cock.
I was about to say more, but her cell phone rang, and she turned away to answer it. I studied the smooth line of her back while I shamelessly eavesdropped.
“Heya, Freddie…” She listened, a smile spreading on her face. “No, you can’t come back tonight! I don’t care.” She laughed at whatever Freddie was saying and lifted a hand to smooth any lose strands of hair back from her face. “You can handle her. She’s like four-feet-nothing. There’s no such thing as curses. Fine. Tomorrow, then.”
She was laughing when she hung up the phone. I lifted an eyebrow. “Trouble?”
“Freddie, my buddy that just had a baby? He’s begging to come back to work. Apparently, his mother-in-law has temporarily moved in to help.”
Behind us, the metal door slammed open, and the buzz of conversation ceased abruptly. I turned around in my seat. A scrawny-looking older white guy in a dirty wifebeater and jeans, with wild eyes and a pockmarked face, stood in the doorway with an AR-15 in one hand. With that semi-automatic rifle and the high-capacity magazine it held, he could shoot every one of the twenty or so people in the bar. He wasted one of those shots in the ceiling, just to show he meant business, and dislodged a chunk of plaster.
“Oh my god,” Olivia hissed.
The guy strolled up to the counter like Jesse Fucking James while everyone in the bar sat silent. “I want the money in the cashth registher,” he lisped, his voice ragged. Sweat stains darkened his shirt down the front and back, and he was close enough to me that I could smell him. Body odor, garbage, and the stink of fear.
“Sure,” Olivia responded pleasantly, even though her face had paled. “After you let everyone who’s in here leave.”
I couldn’t see her hands and hoped that she wasn’t going for her baseball bat.
“And let ‘em all call the copth?” He grimaced, showing space where his two front teeth used to be. “Nah. Do it now, before I thoot thomeone.”
Olivia unlocked the drawer and carefully laid a pile of ones on the counter. Then fives. Then tens, as the man watched avidly. It was a nice take. The bar was doing brisk business that night. When she set down the twenties, her fingers flicked quickly, scattering them on the floor at the man’s feet.
The man cursed and crouched down, tucking the gun under his arm in his haste to pick up the money, and Olivia brought the Slugger out from behind the counter. I grabbed it from her and swung it down across the skinny guy’s shoulders, knocking him chin-first into the ground. He hit with enough force that the blow would have taken out his front teeth, if he had any, but if I’d have hit him in the head, it would have killed him.
Putting my foot on the gun, I gripped the bat and stood over him, waiting for the bastard to stand up so I could knock him the fuck out, but he just writhed around on the floor, getting blood from a split chin all over the damned place.
Olivia darted around the counter and moved the gun out of the way with her foot, while the cook appeared in the doorway to the kitchen, his shaking hand holding a phone. “Police is on the way,” he croaked out.
At that, a couple of the bar customers jumped up and headed for the door. Olivia shook her head and gave an unsteady laugh. “Get out of here everybody. I’m closing early tonight. Just settle up your tabs next time you’re in.”
“Roger, let Janie and Sam know they can go home if they haven’t already,” Olivia told the cook. “Then go upstairs and make sure Cecil and Doreen are okay, will you? Doreen’s deaf and probably didn’t notice, but Cecil should come to the door. Come back if they don’t answer, but if they’re good, you go home too.”
He nodded and disappeared into the back again.
“The police are probably going to want to question witnesses,” I told her unnecessarily. The bar had completely cleared out in a matter of minutes.
“Do you mind staying, witness?” she asked wryly. “Everyone who comes through here, including my staff, has one reason or another not to want to talk to the police.”
“What about you?”
“I’m just your everyday, anonymous citizen,” she answered with an odd half-smile. “The police don’t have any reason to know who I am. Although I foresee a stint of money laundering in my near future,” she added, curling her lip at the bloody money under the man on the floor. “What about you?”
I’d had plenty of interactions with the police lately, but I didn’t say anything. Just stared down at the pathetic would-be thief and possible killer. He made a whining noise, attempting to crawl toward the door, and I put a foot on his back to keep him in place.
“We’re going to have to bronze your barstool, Gabe,” I heard Olivia murmur over the sound of sirens outside.
The police officers, a rookie who couldn’t take his eyes off Olivia, and an older veteran who ended up doing most of the talking, which wasn’t much, weren’t there for long. They seemed a little skeptical that we’d been the only two in the bar when the incident happened, but it was Saturday night after all, and their shoulder radios didn’t stop crackling the entire time they were there. They took Olivia at her word, packed up the suspect, made us sign statements, and took off, promising to follow up.
After the door closed behind them, Olivia let out a long breath and rolled her shoulders. “Thanks for sticking around. You can head out now.”
“Nah, I’ll stay around until you’re done.”
She hitched a hip up on one of the tables and crossed her arms, looking at me skeptically. “I’m fine. I’ve been doing this a while, and I don’t need a babysitter.”
A sudden wave of anger surged through me. She was too fucking calm. “How can you sit there and be so blasé about all this? That fucker could have blown your head off.”
Olivia narrowed her eyes at my tone. “But he didn’t.”
“Not this time. What about the next time a crackhead gets hard up for money or Billy comes back or a fucking psycho wanders in off the street…”
She didn’t say a word as I raged. She just picked up the Slugger in one hand and tapped it against her other palm. The flush of color high on her cheekbones told me she was getting pissed off too. I took a step closer to her.
“You think that bat’s going to stop every bad guy who comes along?” My voice had gone low and rough, and I wanted to shake some damned sense into her. I didn’t know why I cared all of a sudden, but there wasn’t any reason for her to live so dangerously. I reached out and grabbed the bat out of her hands, tossing it to the side, where it clattered against a table and rolled across the floor.
Her eyes widened fractionally at the abrupt movement, but she made no attempt to move. “I don’t need a bat. I have a second-degree black belt in Taekwondo.”
“You going to stop the next assault rifle with your bare hands?” Another step.
“Maybe.” Now, she had to crane her neck just a little to look up at me.
“You going to stop me?” Only inches separated us.
“No.” She didn’t whisper the word. She said it clearly and looked directly into my eyes while she did. My cock twitched in response. I put one hand loosely around her throat. Her pulse beat, slow and steady under my fingertips. She didn’t even have the sense to fear me, and I growled in complete frustration. She was infuriating.
Sliding my fingers around to tangle in the baby fine hairs at the nape of her neck, I lowered my head and took her mouth in a fierce kiss. Her lips were soft and warm and gave for a moment beneath mine. She tasted faintly of mint and something exotically spiced. But then she opened her mouth and nipped at my bottom lip, surprising a groan out of me that gave her the opportunity to plunge her tongue in deep. I was instantly rock-hard, almost desperate to fuck, and I stepped back, breaking the connection. She was playing me. I was sure of it.
Olivia hadn’t moved and watched me calmly. Her long legs, encased in those tight jeans, were crossed at the ankles, and her mannish combat boots contrasted with her obvious femininity in the best way possible. Her lips were slightly swollen and deep red, but if it hadn’t been for her flushed cheeks and her hardened nipples making two hard points through the cotton of her tank top, I would have figured she was completely unaffected.
“Come back to my hotel with me. I’m staying at the MGM. I can have you in bed in fifteen minutes.” I didn’t phrase it as a question.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know you. I don’t go home — or to fancy hotels — with people I don’t know.” She gave me a slightly mocking smile. “You were the one who was just saying I should be more careful, so you should understand.”
“You want me.” That wasn’t a question either.
“I do.”
Olivia stood up from where she’d been leaning against the table and moved closer, mimicking the way I’d approached her earlier. Her dark eyes were wicked when she raised up on her toes until her lips brushed mine.
“But why go somewhere else when we can fuck right here?”
CHAPTER SIX
Liv
Gabe’s eyes weren’t cold when I stepped back. They were molten steel. And while I felt in complete control of the situation, something told me not to be too cocky. This was a man near the edge. Which was fine. That was where I wanted him.
Honestly, I’d been through a dry spell, and I was ready to jump him right now. There had been a few very careful hookups in the last several years, just to prove to myself that I wasn’t afraid of sex and that Devlin hadn’t taken that away from me, but they were pretty far between and only with men I knew would be temporary.
The first time had been awkward and unsatisfying, but it had gotten the whole virginity thing out of the way. The second time was wild and fun but took place in the backseat of a car. A hatchback, no less. Not terribly comfortable. The third had some potential, but not enough to violate my one-night-stand rule.
And if I’d gotten the itch since then and hadn’t found any candidates to fit the bill? Well, I was perfectly capable of taking care of myself, thank you very much.
I wouldn’t have to take care of myself tonight.
Gabe startled a gasp out of me when those big hands locked around my waist, and he swung me around and set me up on the bar, knocking a couple of stools out of his way as he did so. He pushed my thighs open and settled between them. “Last chance,” he murmured.
“Let’s do this,” I purred.
His hands, hot and hard, streaked under my tank top and stripped it off in one quick movement. Then, oh god, he cupped each of my breasts through the thin material of my bra and pushed them together, giving one slow lick up my cleavage, continuing a trail of fire along the side of my neck until his teeth gently bit my earlobe. The sweet friction of his rough cheek and hot breath against the side of my neck and the feeling of his thumbs rubbing at my peaked nipples almost made me come right there.
Had I thought I was in control of the situation? Minor miscalculation.
“God, these are sweet.” He’d unclasped the back of my bra and slid the straps from my shoulders to cup my breasts. He fastened his mouth to a nipple, sucking hard, and to my surprise, I came.
I didn’t think it was even possible, but with a single touch, my body was clenching, and I was vibrating with sensation like a plucked guitar string. My head fell back, and he moved to give my other breast the same treatment as the orgasm rolled through me, leaving me weak.
“I want to fuck you so bad. But I want to see if the rest of you tastes as good, first.”
The blunt words, spoken in that deep voice gave me another tremor. He unsnapped my jeans and pulled down the zipper, and I leaned back, pushing my hips up so he could pull them down. He undid my boots, and before my pleasure-hazed mind realized what was happening, I was on top of my own bar in only a pair of skimpy black panties.
Gabe, his eyes hooded, gave a slow, sexy half-smile and a low hum of approval. He tugged me forward until my legs dangled over the edge. Leaving my panties on, he traced around them, teasing, first along the top edge with just one callused fingertip… then down both sides until I was pulsing again with the need to be touched. Running one thumb up the damp fabric, he brushed against my clit. Once… twice. I rocked forward, grabbing his shoulders for balance.
“Wait,” I demanded breathlessly, trying to shift the balance of power again.
I undid the buttons on his gray shirt, revealing a heavily muscled chest, tanned golden and lightly dusted with dark hair. He had the arms of a man who did manual labor for a living, thick with well-defined muscles, and I skimmed my fingernails down them as I pushed his shirt down on either side. His shirt dropped to the floor, and I locked my legs around him to pull him close, my hands in his soft, short hair, drawing him in.
But instead of slowing things down with a kiss, it was like throwing gasoline on a fire. His hands were everywhere at once. On my back, running up my sides, his fingers toying with the most sensitive outer curves of my breasts. Our lips and tongues battled, his plunging in a rhythm that imitated sex until I couldn’t stand it anymore. I didn’t care if I was begging. The ache had built to an unbearable level, and I needed it to end.
“Please.”
He held my gaze, unsmiling. “Not yet.”
Hooking his thumbs under the narrow band of elastic at my waist, he pulled my panties off and dropped them on top of his shirt. I leaned back, my arms trembling, as he went straight to my
core, delving deep with his tongue.
He made a humming noise, which I took to mean he liked my taste. I bit back a scream as he changed his approach, tonguing circles around my clit, alternating with wide licks. I came harder this time, my legs shaking, holding his head between my hands, torn between pushing him away and pulling him closer, but he gentled until the sensations were bearable again.
Pulling back, he wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, and this time, he did grin. “Now, we can fuck.”
He stripped off the rest of his clothes and my eyes widened at the sight of his cock. It sprang free of his boxer briefs, thick and long. He pulled a chair out from a table and sat down facing me, holding out a hand.
“Come.”
I wasn’t used to being commanded, but damn, my brain was being overridden by pure lust. And longing. And something else my tangled mind wasn’t able to identify.
I slid down from the counter, my legs still feeling boneless after the intensity of my second orgasm. I was going to need a minute, and I couldn’t think of a better way to spend it than making him as crazy as he’d made me.
Kicking his shirt over between his feet, since I had no intention of getting splinters in my knees, I knelt between his muscular legs, grasping the base of his thick cock. He watched me with those silvery eyes, and despite my limited experience, I felt as daring as a porn star.
Leaning forward, I ran my tongue around the plum-shaped head, tasting salt and man, before fastening my lips around him and sucking him as deep as I could. I had only taken a couple of passes before he abruptly lifted me away.
“So, he can dish it out,” I said, licking my lips, “but he can’t take it.”
I shivered as I gazed into his eyes, the intensity like a punch and warm bath all at once.
He opened his palm to reveal a condom, and I took it from him. Ripping open the package, I took it out, and he guided my hands to roll it on, the gesture so oddly intimate it drove tears to my eyes. Which was strange. Compared to what we had already done and would soon do, the act of sheathing him should have been mundane.
Claiming My Vengeance Page 4