by Laurie Roma
The night air was chilly, but it felt good against his face. After shoving his stuff into the saddlebag that was attached to the side of his bike, Dante got on his Harley and fired it up. The bike was one of his most favorite possessions. He had a big-ass truck for times when the weather was bad, but for most of the year, he liked riding out in the open air. In a town where tons of people owned bikes, his stood out with its custom matte-black finish and tribal design of a silver fox on the sides of the gas tank that a friend had painted on it.
He loved the low snarl the machine made as he pulled out of the parking lot, then on to the main road. It was late on Sunday night, but the people in Breakers were used to hearing the sound of bikes passing through town. Enjoying the cool night breeze, Dante drove the few blocks down toward The Fox Hole, his family’s bar.
It always gave him a little thrill to pass by the place.
Unlike Hammer’s chosen path, Dante had always known exactly what he would do when he returned to his hometown. The Fox Hole was his family’s legacy, and Dante managed the place with no small amount of pride. It was a biker bar that had gained a colorful reputation over the years, but it was home to him. No one had blinked an eye when he’d followed in his father’s footsteps to become an Army Ranger, just as no one had been surprised when Dante left the service to come home and take over their family bar when Malcolm Fox suffered a heart attack.
Family came first to Dante…always.
Years ago, Malcolm Fox had struggled to find a way to raise two young kids after his wife left him. She had wanted something different for her life than being stuck in a small town, and that something had included a rich man to take care of her and give her things that Malcolm couldn’t provide. But she hadn’t just left her husband. She’d also walked out on her kids’ lives without looking back, and that was something Dante would never forgive her for.
His real family was his father and younger sister, Danica, and Dante was just fine with that.
Although some might say they’d had a weird childhood, Dante and his sister had loved spending time with their father at the bar. The staff had been like having a giant extended family, and even as Malcolm worked hard to build up his business, he always had time to help them with their homework and go to Dante’s games or Danica’s dance recitals.
The three of them had become a unit, but Dante had always known he would be the one to take over running the bar since Danica had always been meant to follow a different path. She and Dante remained close...or as close as they could be when he’d been in the military, and now when she was traveling all over the world on tour as the choreographer for pop sensation, Gemma. There was satisfaction knowing that his sister was following her dream, but he still missed having the brat around.
A favorite hangout for locals and tourists alike, The Fox Hole was always packed with people. It didn’t matter if it was a weekday or the weekend when the party crowds came out en masse. During the daylight hours, customers flocked to the bar for the good food and cold drinks, but when the sun went down, the atmosphere changed to something a little more wild.
There was an air of danger to the place that suited Dante just fine. Each evening after the sun went down, the bar filled up with hard-eyed men and scantily-clad women looking for a good time. They had their fun, drank and hung out, but there were strict rules that were enforced to ensure the safety of everyone that walked through the doors.
And anyone who broke those rules found themselves in a world of hurt.
Since the doors of the bar had first opened, Malcolm Fox had always treated the people who worked at the bar like family, and Dante continued that tradition when he came home to take over managing the place. With the amount of muscle they had working in the bar, very few people were stupid enough to step out of line. However, when it did happen, the staff took care of the troublemakers with almost scary efficiency.
Given that most of the men that hung out at the bar rode motorcycles and had an aura of danger around them, the townspeople had nicknamed the regulars the Breakers’ Bad Boys. Despite their tattooed and rough exteriors, they were damn good men who were fiercely loyal and followed a strong moral code.
For years the nickname had just been a passing joke, but recently the name had taken on a different meaning. With the help of some of the people in town, one of Dante’s friends, Daryk Nyght, had created an actual organization using that name. The Breakers’ Bad Boys had always looked out for their town, but their duties now included helping abused women and children in need of help. Whether it be needing someone to stand with them while they testified in court, or escorting them to safety, the Breakers’ Bad Boys were willing and able to assist.
When Malcolm Fox had come back to Breakers and opened The Fox Hole as a way to support the family, there was no way he could have known what an impact his bar would make on the town. It always made Dante smile to think about how his father—a former Army Ranger, biker and all round bad-ass—had become a freaking pillar of the community.
It could only happen in a place like Breakers.
And now that they were preparing for the 30th anniversary of the bar in a few weeks, there was an even deeper sense of pride that flooded Dante whenever he thought of The Fox Hole. His father had built something that had lasted.
And one day, Dante would pass it on to his own children to run.
His body was tired, but Dante’s mind was still wide awake. He thought briefly about stopping at the bar to double check the details for the upcoming anniversary party, but he figured he was better off getting some sleep. Yeah, he should just go home and—
What the fuck?
Dante stopped his bike in the middle of the road, his foot slapping down hard on the pavement as his eyes narrowed at the dim glow of lights coming from inside The Fox Hole. Starting the bike again, he made the turn, heading into the parking lot behind the building. He knew he’d turned the lights off when he’d closed the place for the night after the last of the staff had headed home a few hours ago.
So, what the fuck were they doing on now?
The faint light coming from inside signaled that there was someone in there. Someone that had gone in after Dante had locked up. Just the thought had his blood boiling. His bar was the last place that anyone would be stupid enough to break into. Then again, there were a lot of fucking stupid people in the world.
Since they’d added better soundproofing to the bar a few years back to placate the neighbors, Dante didn’t worry about whoever was inside hearing his approach. He turned off his bike and quickly stalked over to the side entrance to the building. He paused briefly to consider calling Sheriff Wyatt, then nixed the idea. He wanted time to deal with the stupid motherfucker who’d broken into his place himself before turning them over to the authorities.
Of course, that would be if he left whoever it was alive after he was done with them.
Dante slipped the balisong out of his back pocket where it always resided, and with a quick flick of his wrist, the butterfly knife opened. The small, lethal weapon was something he was known for carrying. Something he was proficient at using with deadly skill.
He’d never tried to hide the fact that he always had it on him, even before Texas law had been changed a few years ago, making switchblades legal to carry. But it wasn’t just a deterrent…he’d damn well use it if he had to, and people knew it.
He tried opening the side door, then frowned when he found it was locked. That would have slowed down anyone trying to make a quick exit. Stupid, he thought again as he silently unlocked the door, then slipped inside the building. Automatically transitioned back into his combat training, Dante was ready for anything as he moved into stealth mode.
A spark of rage flashed through him as he saw the alarm had been deactivated on the inside of doorway. He knew he’d set the alarm before leaving earlier. It was a good system, far more sophisticated than the average thief would be able to handle. He closed the door without making a sound, then bolted the door to de
lay anyone from escaping if they somehow got past him.
Son of a bitch, could one of his own be stealing from him?
Fuck that, Dante swore to himself. No one that worked for him would try to rob him. They all knew better. Knew that he’d track them to the ends of the earth and skin them alive if they did. Thinking about that cooled his anger a bit, then confusion struck as the sound of soft music reached him.
The Fox Hole always had music playing, from prep time to closing. Usually, it was a mixture of hard rock, pop and country, but this was different. Dante paused as he listened to the straining sounds of a violin being played. His brows furrowed as he recognized the moving notes of Bach’s “Air on the G-string.”
What the hell was going on?
Dante followed the straining notes of the music down the hallway. Although he no longer felt the threat of danger in the air, his grip on the knife remained steady. He came to an abrupt halt in the doorway leading to the main bar, then just stood there, blinking in surprise.
Zoe Lang stood with a violin braced under her chin as she played, framed in a halo of golden light spilling from one of the low fixtures hanging over the pool tables in the back of the bar. She had changed from the work clothes she’d been wearing earlier into a pair of black cotton pants and a purple tank top. There was a lightweight jacket hanging over the back of a nearby chair, with the violin case lying opened on the table next to it.
Even dressed casually, with her face scrubbed clean of makeup, she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. She looked younger without the enhancements, but her fresh appearance only made her more appealing to him. Her long, black hair fell down her back like a waterfall of silk. Those dark, exotic eyes that he found so compelling were closed now as she lost herself in the music she created.
Jesus, she played like an angel.
Without making a sound, Dante closed the butterfly knife and stuck it into his back pocket. He stumbled over to a chair close to the hallway entrance that hadn’t been stacked on the table during cleanup and sat down to listen. Classical music was one of his secret pleasures, something he listened to when he was feeling restless. He’d never told anyone. It wasn’t that he gave a fuck what people thought about it or whether or not it would damage his rep.
It was just something he kept private.
Something that was his alone.
But now his angel was playing a piece he loved, and hearing it from her hands touched something inside of him, like a soothing balm to his soul. The beautiful song calmed the restless part of him that was always straining for action, giving him the gift of…contentment. Of peace that only the beauty of music could invoke. His eyes wanted to close, so he could simply be swept away in the joy of listening to her play, but he couldn’t look away from her.
He never could.
God, she was beautiful. Zoe’s slim body swayed a little as her arm swept up with the bow, holding it against the strings of the instrument, then that arm pulled back to change the notes as she continued to play. A sense of pride mixed with bafflement as he watched her. She was absolutely magnificent. A true master of her craft. Her level of skill wasn’t something one achieved by picking up the violin as a hobby.
No, she was too good for that.
And that made her even more of a mystery to him.
The song ended, but before he could speak, she took a deep breath and began playing again. Only, this time it was a different. Where the last piece had been soft, almost airy, he felt the impact of the new song as if a fist were clenching his heart.
The slow, weeping notes all but dripped with sadness, the evocative melancholy even more pronounced by the simplicity of the music. His breath caught as he listened to the dark, haunting melody. He was transfixed, mesmerized…completely blown away. Her bow moved across her instrument, creating the extraordinary with the clever movements of her hands. And in quiet of the room—with the notes echoing through the empty room—he felt her sorrow.
Felt her emotions as she played as though they were his own.
Time past as he listened to her play, lost in the music…lost in her. Listening to her made him feel more connected to her than he’d ever felt to another living being. It was like being able to look inside her, to the dark place that she kept the outside world from seeing. He’d seen glimpses of it before, of the sadness that she tried to hide, but it was there now, laid bare with every note she played. Only someone who understood grief and pain could play like that, put that much emotion into it.
The reality of it rocked him to his very core.
Silence hung in the air when she finished playing, and he heard her take a quiet, shuddering breath as she remained standing in place. He looked down in surprise to see his hands were shaking. Hell, he’d always been rock solid in the middle of a firefight, but now his fucking hands were shaking…because of Zoe.
Unable to help himself, he stood up. He hadn’t made a sound, but she seemed to sense him. Her grip on the violin changed so she held it against her as if she were trying to protect it. He saw the fear flash in those dark-brown eyes when they snapped open before it faded with recognition.
Hands lowered, but her stance didn’t relax as he stalked toward her. His heart stuttered just as it always did when her gaze locked on his. He could see her cheeks flush with embarrassment or guilt at getting caught playing in the bar after hours. He should say something. Should tell her to relax, or order her to tell him why the hell she never told him she played the violin like a damn professional, but Dante couldn’t form the words.
He reached her with a few quick strides, then jerked her into his arms. Months of frustration, of wanting her to the point of insanity surged through him. Unable to think beyond the haze of lust, he did the only thing he could. On a low growl, he slammed his mouth down on hers, taking her lips in a scorching hot kiss.
Fuck…one taste.
One taste of her was all it took to make his body burn. In that instant his lips pressed against hers, he felt his entire world shift. He’d known it would happen once he finally touched her, and now that he had, their fate was sealed.
Zoe belonged to him.
Chapter Two
Zoe felt the world melting around her.
Her body was on fire as Dante’s lips took hers in a kiss so hot, she wondered how she didn’t just burst into flames. She’d been fighting the crazy attraction she had for him for months, trying to avoid the explosive chemistry she knew shimmered between them.
Now, all her defenses shattered like brittle glass with one little kiss.
The feel of Dante’s hard body pressed against hers had a flood of desire shooting straight through her, making her body quiver with excitement. She could feel the liquid heat pooling between her thighs, shocking her with how quickly she responded to him.
He used her gasp of shock to shove his tongue deep, tasting and temping her until her only reaction was to give in to him. Zoe’s mind went blank as she answered the urgency of his kiss with her own. Pleasure pulsed through her, filling her with the need to give him all of her, and to take all he offered in return.
Holy fucking shit, the man knew how to kiss.
The taste of him was like an addiction. Wild. Wicked. She’d known he would be, which was why she’d tried so hard to keep her distance. Dark and dangerous, Dante Fox was a man who commanded attention without asking. And now he took her under, deep into a pleasure she wasn’t sure she’d ever recover from.
Pulling back, he broke the kiss, allowing her a glimpse into those clear, light-blue eyes of his. Eyes so pale they almost seemed unreal. But now, his icy gaze was filled with heat, with a hunger so intense that it made her heart thunder in her chest.
“Fucking hell. I want you, Zoe.”
The sound of his deep, rough voice made her tremble. It always did. Usually, she was able to hide her reaction to him, but right now she couldn’t stop the shiver that wracked her body, and she knew he felt it. “Dante, wait—”
His nostrils flare
d and his eyes fired at her weak protest. “No.”
When he moved to kiss her again, she lifted her hands to hold him off, then glanced down at the violin and bow in her hands. She blinked as if she’d never seen them before. Damn it, she needed to focus. Forcing her brain to function again, she gasped. The instrument she held was a Stradivarius violin, probably one of the most well-known, expensive instruments in the world. Some sanity sparked back and had her trying to step away from him.
It didn’t work.
“We have to—”
“Put it down.”
When she simply looked at him in confusion, he took the violin and bow from her, setting it on the table next to the case. Wincing, she made a moved toward the table to put the instrument away properly, but Dante got in her way.
A small squeak of surprise escaped her as he took hold of her hips and lifted her, carrying her a few steps to the pool table where he sat her down on the edge. He pushed her thighs apart so he could stand between them. When he pressed against her, she could feel the hard column of his erection rubbing against her core, and barely held back a moan.
Damn him. How the hell could she resist him if he kept pushing her like this?
The temptation to give in was overwhelming. An edge of panic mingled with pure feminine appreciation as he unzipped his hoodie and roughly jerked it off, throwing it to the floor. Seeing the black t-shirt stretched taut over his hard body, she found herself reaching out before she could think. Zoe placed a hand on his chest, feeling muscles flex beneath her palm and the frantic beating of his heart. She knew it was useless trying to hold him back, but she had to, for both their sakes. “Dante, we can’t—”
“Hell, yes, we can,” he countered, his voice harsh with lust. “And we will.”
Another protest was cut off as his mouth took hers again. Stars burst behind her eyes. His taste. God, his taste was glorious. Spicy, and utterly sinful. His hand wound into her hair, holding her still as he plundered, stroking his tongue deep over and over again. Unable to help herself, she kissed him back, hands stroking up and down the hard muscles of his back, her legs wrapping around his waist as her traitorous body pulled him closer.