She liked physical men. She liked casual touches from someone she was interested in or seeing.
So she was really liking him touching her. If he was too young or too not her type, she could have overlooked it, called it a quirk of a bartender used to a smaller bar than the one at Lam. But he was her type. In fact, he was an exact, flawless reproduction of the man she fantasized about when she was between men and needed a mental image to make going solo at least a halfway realistic experience. He had it all. He was tall and dark haired. He had a masculine face, all jaw and forehead. He had the dark eyes she always found herself attracted to and the wide shouldered, fit physique that all women liked. Hell, the man even had perfect hands. Hands. They were wide and strong and scarred and manly.
That wasn't even factoring in his unshakable confidence, the easy way he carried himself. She had known enough men in her time to know when a man's confidence was bolstered up to hide a bigger, uglier inner insecurity and when it was just natural, was based on a perfectly accurate estimation of how good looking, interesting, and capable they were.
Danny wasn't faking it.
To sum it up: he was her type and that could be problematic if he kept getting all in-her-face alpha on her.
"You'll survive," she said, reaching up to put her hand on his chest and push him out of her way. Her hand met firmness. Of course. He didn't have an inch of fat to pinch anywhere.
But the second her hand landed, his grabbed her wrist and held it there, prevented her from pushing him or even pulling away. "Faith, baby, if you wanted to touch me, all you had to do is..."
"Oh, what's going on here?" a deep, smooth, masculine voice asked from right behind her.
She'd know that voice anywhere.
K.
And, damn, did that man have good timing.
"Faith here has been looking for excuses to touch me all night," Danny said, completely reversing their roles and surprising her enough to wipe her mind blank of her usual snarky comeback.
"What? I was working my long game on you, honey," another familiar voice called. Gabe. That was Gabe.
"Yeah, shit, man. I made more than a handful of moves too," a third voice said, deeper, rougher. Xander.
The whole gang was there.
That was just lovely.
Faith swallowed hard, looking for what was left of her dignity. "Get your hand off me or you will become familiar with what a corkscrew up your ass feels like."
"Oh, kinky," a fourth, this time feminine, but in a husky way, voice said.
Corey.
Danny's eyes held her gaze as his hand held her wrist for a long minute before slowly releasing her. "Who do we have here?" he asked, addressing the group at the bar.
Faith turned too, taking a deep breath and flexing her hand, somehow feeling like the whole thing was tingly from his touch. Which was insane.
"Friends," she said, reaching for glasses under the bar.
"Friends," Danny repeated with a grin, looking way too excited at the prospect. "Funny, Faith acts like she'd rather have her fingernails ripped out than socialize."
"Fuck off," she growled at him, pouring whiskey for all three of the men.
"Aw, sweetheart, who wouldn't love such a sweet mouth like that?" Xander asked. Xander Rhodes was a private investigator who was one of the scariest people she knew. And she knew a lot of scary people. He was a giant wall of a man with dark hair and eyes and a scar down his cheek. He was a walking, talking badass she had a lot of respect for.
"If you pour me whiskey again, I am going to have to start going somewhere else after work," Corey said when she moved to stand in front of her to grab another glass.
Corey owned a club across the street from Lam called Limits. It was a fetish club and she was the kind of strong, fierce female who could pull off running such a place. She was also insanely gorgeous- tall and curvy with long, straight black hair, light, almost see-through gray eyes, and a face that was perfectly feminine and exotic at the same time. Straight from work, she was still in her club wear- a skintight black body con dress that was square-cut and low in the front and short of hem with knee-high black stiletto boots. She had that sexy dominatrix vibe to her.
"How about something sweet?" Danny suggested, shouldering her out of the way to lean his arms on the bar and talk to her more personally.
And for some reason, that ticked off Faith too.
Luckily for her, K used that opportunity to catch her eye, jerking his head to the side to get her to come over toward him.
K was the newest member of their little group, only moving to the city after Xander helped a client of his finally get free of an ex of hers. After which, he had moved across the country and opened what was, on the outside, just a normal boxing gym. And it was that. But it was also the place he conducted his real business- he saved women. There was no other way to put it. When a woman found herself in a situation that seemed hopeless, usually a violent man she couldn't get free from, they went to him and he handed them all the skills they would need to defend themselves and start over in a new life.
K was tall with wide shoulders, a compact, unmistakable boxer build, dark skin, bald head, dark eyes, and a handsome face. The entire time she had known him, she had never seen him wear anything other than an expensive suit. That night was no different. He had on black pinstripe pants, dress shoes, and a white, tucked-in, wrinkle-free, and perfectly tailored white shirt. An expensive watch was on his wrist and two cells were sitting on the bar.
"What's up, K?"
"What's up with him?" he shot back.
"New bartender."
"We're gonna sidestep the fact that you two got some sexual chemistry hot enough to set all these bottles of alcohol on fire and head right into- there's something about him I can't put my finger on but I don't like."
K seemed positively psychic at times. That was how good he was at reading people. That was what made him so good at his job. And, in this situation, she was glad for it as well. Because she was starting to think there was something wrong with her for feeling weird about him considering he hadn't shown anything suspicious so far.
"Right?" she asked, leaning forward, closing in the conversation. "And he did a disarming technique like a pro last night on Anthony. But he's a bartender."
"Sweets," Xander interrupted, leaning closer. "You're a bartender who can disarm anyone with a weapon."
"It's different," she insisted.
"How so?" Gabe asked as Corey's throaty, sexy laughter drifted their way.
"I don't know. I just get a vibe on him is all."
"Yeah, well, it seems like he gets a vibe off you too," Gabe added, shrugging. "Know what I'm thinking? I'm thinking the vibe you two are mistaking for weird is actually just sexual frustration. Maybe it's been so long for you that..." he started, stopping when she reached under the bar and grabbed the corkscrew she had threatened Danny with a few moments before, holding it up with a raised brow.
"Alright. I think you should step away from instruments that can possibly used for impalement," Danny said, moving in behind her and wrapping his hand around the corkscrew and, in turn, several of her fingers, the unexpected sensation making her jolt visibly, having Gabe and Xander smirking while K showed no reaction because his gaze was on Danny's face, not the interaction between them.
It was right about then that she felt just how close he was behind her. His hips were touching her behind and his thighs were against hers, his chest by her shoulders. And the hand that wasn't holding the corkscrew was at her hip.
"Faith, come bullshit with me. I've had enough of boys tonight," Corey called as if sensing Faith's inner dilemma. Bless her.
"Quit your clutching at me, would you?" Faith snapped, shoving his hand off her hip and ripping her other hand from his grasp.
Corey picked up her drink as Faith approached and moved to the far end of the bar. "Alright, spill."
"Spill?"
"Tall drink of whiskey over there," she clarified. "And if y
ou try to tell me there is nothing to spill, I am going to make up a story about you having a toe sucking fetish and tell all the guys about it. You'll never live it down. They'll be telling jokes about it at your funeral."
Faith smiled, a rare genuinely amused smile she reserved for people who deserved them. "It pisses me off that he is hot and capable," she admitted.
"Because he's your dream guy come to life and you want to have him bend you over the bar and take you from behind with your hair wrapped around his fist. Or maybe," she said, tapping a bright red fingernail against her lower lip in thought, "maybe sneak away to that panic room Vin has back there, lock yourselves in, and fuck until you can't stand anymore. And you can be as loud as you want because those walls are not only bullet, but soundproof. Oh, yeah..."
"Um, Cor, would you like to take him into the panic room? I'll unlock it for you."
Corey smiled, shaking her head. "Not my type."
"How is he not your type? He's everyone's type," Faith said, shaking her head, turning slightly to find Danny talking to Xander and Gabe easily, all of them doing so like old friends. And then, she'd be damned, he even made K chuckle. "Traitor," she mumbled under her breath. She was utterly alone in her determination to dislike him.
"I like them with lighter hair," she said and if Faith wasn't mistaken, she was looking at Gabe when she said it.
Gabe was not Faith's type.
He was attractive, but in a more pretty boy way. Not that he was some simpering pussy. He was a skip chaser and one of the best in the state. He and Xander had grown up in a shitty area, all but living on the streets and fighting for respect both literally and figuratively. They both still kept their offices in that shitty part of town either being nostalgic about it there or because they felt like they owed it to the neighborhood to keep an eye on things or something like that. But being a badass didn't take away the fact that he had a perfect face, so perfect that to her, it almost made him unattractive, with lighter hair that he kept neat, and a lithe, but strong body.
He was also a bit teasing and playboyish as a whole where she preferred darker personalities.
"I know it's never good to fuck where you earn your paycheck, but you'll never be working with him anyway so what's the problem?"
Faith exhaled hard, knowing it was no use to even talk about it.
It was hard to logically explain something as illogical as a 'gut feeling'.
That was what it was with Danny- a gut feeling. Though, she couldn't place the feeling either. Usually it was easy. The whirling, wobbly feeling meant something was off. The sinking feeling meant there was danger. A fluttering or tightening meant attraction.
But somehow, with him, it was a weird combination of all of them at once that almost made her queasy.
It made her feel off her game. And she hated that.
"Uh oh, here comes our kick out," Corey said, nodding her head to where Vin was walking through the kitchen into the restaurant, looking surprised to see people still at the bar. It was a good ten minutes after closing.
Vin walked over to the guys and greeted them, he and Xander having a closer connection ever since Vin took care of a situation for Xander's woman, Ellie. K also had a begrudging respect for him. Gabe was the only one who didn't care for the man, mostly because Gabe had a respectable business that meant he needed to, as often as was possible, operate according to the law if he wanted to keep his license and associating with the likes of a mob boss would not be looked upon kindly.
"Alright, I am heading out before he comes over here," Corey said, standing while throwing back the rest of her drink. She pulled money out of her purse. "I mean, you know I like Vin and all, but he always has something to bitch to me about the people at my club. Catch you later. Oh," she said, turning back, "and let Mama give you a little advice. Take a ride , Faith. You've been off the saddle for a long time."
With that, she was gone.
Faith took her glass and put it in the rack, knowing she was right. She did need to get laid. She paused for a second, trying to do the math and making a growling sound when she realized it had been almost ten months since she last gave any man the time of day. He had been a guest instructor at the women's shelter where she was teaching a self-defense class for free. Tall, dark, handsome, only temporarily in town? Just her cuppa tea. They'd had a two week thing and then he went back to California and she just drowned her sexual frustration in ever-more-lengthy training sessions.
"Bye guys. See you next week," she called as they all shuffled out.
"I like your friends," Danny said as he cleared their money off the bar and went to run their bill into the system.
"They're good people," she agreed, fighting the urge to say something snippy like 'I can die happy then'. She was beat. It was a long night and being surly all the time was starting to wear on her.
"Always after hours," Vin said, shaking his head in disapproval.
"They paid," Faith said, shrugging, knowing his friends who showed up after hours drank for free. "And seeing as I am training the fifth guy in six months and that means I won't have any free time to see my friends outside of here because you have an itchy trigger finger where the 'f' word is concerned..."
"Alright, alright," Vin said, holding up his hands. "I am heading out. Have a good night, kids."
"Is he always such a pushover?" Danny asked after he walked out the front door, locking it from the outside.
"Don't let him hear you calling him that."
"So just you get to push him around then."
"Pretty much," she agreed, smiling a little.
"You like that power, don't you?"
"Maybe," she allowed, filling a cleaning bucket with hot water and bleach to wipe down the surfaces so they could go home finally.
"Hey," he said, drawing her attention with the unmistakable clink of shot glasses hitting the bar. When she turned, there were two sitting there and Danny had a bottle of vodka in his hands, the good stuff. "Let's have a peace shot, huh? We got off on the wrong foot. Let's put that behind us." Faith turned, shaking her head. "Fucking seriously, sweetheart? What the fuck does it take with you... oh," he trailed off, sheepishly rubbing a hand across the back of his neck when she turned back with a bottle of tequila (also the good stuff) instead.
"Vodka makes me sick," she admitted. "First drink I ever had was a vodka cran. Had way too many, got violently sick, and I have never been able to tolerate it since," she explained as she poured the shots, putting the bottle down on the bar.
They each reached for theirs and lifted them, Faith waiting, knowing he was going to say something.
"New beginnings would be cheesy," he started and she agreed.
"Here's to staying positive and testing negative," she offered, clinking his glass, and throwing back her shot.
"Nice," he said, throwing his back as well.
They both clanked their glasses down at the same time, their fingers brushing.
"So... truce?" he asked, neither of them moving their hands though Faith was putting a lot of focus on making sure her hand did not move in the slightest.
"We haven't been at war," she said, giving him a small smile. "If we were, you would be coughing up blood from a spiked shot right about now."
"If we haven't been at war, why have you been avoiding me?"
"I've been working. You know... making drinks, collecting tips, closing tabs..."
"And all the eye rolls in my direction?"
"I did not..." she started to object, knowing damn well she had.
"Baby, you did."
She felt her belly flutter hard at that as a stab of pure, white hot desire shot between her thighs.
Ever the sucker for pet names, damnit.
"I think you try too hard," she offered, it being mostly true.
"You'd prefer I was a dick to the customers?"
"I'd prefer you were genuine. I don't like people who put on masks because, after a while, the mask starts to look a helluva lot like their face
and you can never tell what is true and what isn't."
"And how do you know I'm not a friendly, sociable, nice guy?"
"We already covered the fact that you're not a nice guy."
"Actually, we never did really get to finish that argument."
"It wasn't an argument. You're not a nice guy. Case closed."
"You know what," he said, body twisting toward her, making her automatically twist away which inadvertently put her back against the bar, closed in by his solid frame. And he was close. His hips touched hers and when she angled her head up, if she just went up on her toes, their lips would be lined up.
"No, what?" she offered, swallowing hard then, without really realizing she was about to do it, wetting her lips.
"You're right," he said, his head ducking just the tiniest bit, his eyes pinning hers.
"I'm right?" she asked, completely and utterly at a loss for what she was supposed to be right about.
"Yeah, baby, you're right. I'm not a nice guy. In fact, things I have on my mind right now... they're about as far from nice as you can get," he told her, his hand moving to her hip, his thumb pressing into the hollow of her hipbone in a way that made her automatically clench her thighs closer together.
She watched as the heat rose in his eyes, as the decision was made, as he slowly started to angle his head down to hers.
"Faith, donde esta... oh," Rodrigo started and stopped as he came out from the kitchen.
Faith stiffened, completely froze on the spot like they were two horny teenagers caught dry humping in the living room.
"No, I don't see anything," Danny said oddly, making her brows draw together. "But if it hurts that bad, maybe you should make an appointment at the eye doctor tomorrow," he said, moving away, giving her an out she didn't realize she wanted so badly.
She had a reputation to uphold.
And it didn't matter how forward thinking she was about things like her own sexual liberation, she knew the men were a good thirty years behind her on the topic and to see her screwing around at work would open up the opportunity for all of them to start grab-assing.
Dark Secrets Page 4