Ah, hell.
Letting out a sigh, I move my feet in the direction I have no business venturing to.
“Can I sit?”
The glass he’s bringing up to his mouth stops mid-air before reaching his lips. Drago’s head twists to the side, and slowly dark, brown eyes glide up my body until they land on mine.
He looks different in this setting than at the docks—moodier. Pissed off maybe.
Bet I can add fuel to that fire. Fuck, there is something twisted and wrong with me.
“I’m not in the mood to be harassed, detective.” He tosses the remaining liquid in his glass back then slams the empty whiskey glass on to the table. “Save it for a weekday, yeah?”
Harassed my ass.
I guess in my world that’s what I call doing my job.
But . . . if he wants to be harassed a little who am I to say no?
Grabbing the top of the chair, I pull it out a few inches then walk around, coming in-between the empty seat and Drago to sit down. Being as the spots are tight in the club my knee brushes against his jeans as I maneuver in.
I eye what looks to be a puzzled younger looking version of Drago from across the table before turning my head and smile at the jackass I’m sitting next to as he raises one eyebrow at me.
“Did I say you could sit down?” he rudely asks.
“Nope. Took that liberty myself.” I face his friend or who is probably his brother. “I’m Bri,” I tell him as I lean over, offering my hand.
He takes it, offering a gentle hand in return. “Luca.” He smiles big. “So . . . you’re the detective he keeps going on and on about.” Luca’s eyes glide over toward Drago. “You failed to mention how hot she is, brother.”
Brothers. I was right.
“Luca, shut up.”
Drago signals the waiter as he passes.
“Certainly, sir. Anything for you, Mr. Luca?”
“No, I’m still nursing the one I’m on.” Luca holds up a half-full glass of amber liquid and the waiter nods. “And you, sweetheart?”
“I’ll have—”
“She’s not staying. That’ll be all,” Drago interrupts. The waiter glances my way, looking uneasy, but he doesn’t go against Drago’s wishes by asking me a second time. He simply turns, walking away.
Irritation crawls up my arm. These are the moments when being a cop sucks. When I want to reach over, grab his balls in my hand and twist. But . . . I’d likely get fired, even if I am off duty.
“Miss Andrews.” Oh, great. I look over my shoulder to see Charlie, the club manager, standing with his arms folded across his chest a few feet behind us. “Did that waiter just refuse you service?”
“Charlie,” I try to smooth. “It wasn’t his fault.” I shake my head then glance at Drago. “It was his fault.”
“I don’t give a damn whose fault it was. Did he refuse you your request?” He drops his arms only to place his hands on his hips as I watch his fair complexion turn red. Even with the lights of the club turned down it’s easily seen he’s getting angry.
The boy may not have a chance in Hell . . .
“Well, it matters to me, Charlie. The answer is no. The kid didn’t even hear my request to refuse it. He was practically scared and wanted to run away from here.” I turn, looking at Drago whose eyebrows are turned in and grab his chin, turning it in Charlie’s direction. “Look at this angry face and huge body. Any normal person would naturally be scared of him just by looking at him, and then when he opens his barking mouth . . . jeez.” I’m being a little over the top and everyone knows it.
Charlie stares at me.
“You don’t look scared of him.”
I laugh. Me, scared? Yeah, okay, maybe in another life.
“Would you be scared of the big bad wolf if you had been raised by my father and grew up with my brother?”
He looks at Drago and then smirks.
“No. I guess not.” Charlie takes a breath and his expression turns serious. “Acerbi, my staff works for me, not you. Don’t ever do that again. We clear?”
“Sure,” Drago bites out.
“Rico,” Charlie calls out, making me turn in my seat to see the waiter from a few minutes ago return with Drago’s whiskey. “Bring Miss Andrews a single barrel, top-shelf Whiskey with Sprite. And don’t let me ever catch you refusing another customer again. I don’t care if it’s at the request or because another customer puts you in an awkward position. Don’t do it. You should thank Miss Andrews. She wouldn’t allow me to fire you.”
“I-I’m s-sorry.”
“Save it. It’s over with. Just don’t let it happen again,” Charlie huffs. “But another piece of valuable information for the future. Miss Andrews is the daughter of the man that owns this building and damn near every building in a five-mile radius. You just might want to remember who she is.”
I blow out a frustrated sigh. I hate when people do that. I hate when someone tells people I’m Robert’s daughter like that’s automatically supposed to make me more important.
Screw that shit.
“Miss, is that regular Sprite or diet?” I look up from my now slumped sitting position.
Uncrossing my arm, I gesture to my body with both hands and ask, “Do I look like I drink anything diet?”
I shouldn’t be acting like a bitch toward this kid. He’s done nothing to deserve it, but Charlie really ticked me off and he did it on purpose. I didn’t want him to fire the waiter and make a big deal out of it, so he gave me back what I gave him.
Asshole.
“Is that a trick question?”
“Sprite, dude. Just regular freaking Sprite.” I shake my head as he trots off. “That poor boy needs to grow some balls.”
I glance over at the sound of Luca’s laughter.
“I like you, Bri,” he tells me, then tosses his drink back, finishing it in one shot.
“Well, you haven’t given me a reason not to like you, Luca, so don’t.”
“Wasn’t planning on it. Everyone loves me. And as for what you look like”—he gets that big smile again. Normally this is the point where I’d think I was getting hit on, but I don’t get that feeling—“you look like a beautiful woman.” His smile widens. “That takes special care of her body. You must work out a lot, huh? And those sexy arms . . .” He winks.
This should be getting creepy right now, but for some reason, I want to laugh.
He continues.
“You got some guns under those arms, don’t ya?” He nods at me but doesn’t wait for a response. “I noticed when you were walking toward the table, man those thig—”
“Enough!” The sound of Drago’s anger causes even me to jump in my seat. I joked, referring to him as the big bad wolf, but what he just showed is startling as much as it is alarming.
Luca throws up his hands in surrender, but he silently chuckles as he does, making me think everything he said was to bring what happened out of Drago. But why?
“Bri?” a deep voice, I easily recognize, calls my name.
I glance over to see Jase Teller standing with his arms crossed over his large chest, with an easy-going Shane Thornton standing next to him. Jase, Nikki’s boyfriend, always looks mad. I’ve come to learn that, and I’m used to it now.
Shane nods, his warm chocolate eyes that match his skin, silently greeting me. He’s one of Jase’s friends, a fellow MMA fighter who I also see regularly at Knocked Out.
“You can come with us.” Jase glances at Drago then back to me.
Drago’s hand wraps firmly around the inside of my leg just above the knee before I’m able to reply, telling Jase I’ll head back there shortly. What I didn’t expect was to clamp down on Drago’s hand due to the current of electricity that his touch sends straight to my vagina.
His eyes snap to mine just briefly then glances down where my legs are squeezing his hand. A smirk forms on his lips as if reading my mind, before turning his head toward Jase.
“Did she say she wanted to go with you?”
/>
“I wasn’t talking to you, Acerbi. Let’s go, Bri.”
Drago turns back to me then leans close to my ear.
“Leave now,” he starts to whisper so only I can hear him, while at the same time running his hand higher up my thigh, “and the only time I’ll willingly meet with you and answer your questions is with my lawyer present.”
I have to bite the inside of my cheek so my breathing doesn’t become labored from his touch and the feel of his breath in my ear.
What the hell is wrong with me and why does this feel so good?
I haven’t had sex or any male attention in a while—that’s all this is, I justify to myself. After all, I’m investigating this man for drug smuggling and conspiracy to commit murder.
Except you don’t believe that girl’s story for a minute.
“Brianna,” Jase’s demanding voice drags me from my thoughts.
“I’ll . . .” Shit, my voice is breathy. “I’ll be back there shortly. Tell Nikki I’m having a drink with a friend . . . friends.” I look at Luca and smile, but it quickly fades.
“Good girl,” he whispers.
What the fuck did he just say to me?
I turn, giving him my best “back the hell off” look. He laughs. So I kick him in the shin with my heel and smile back at him while his jaw locks from the pain.
Jase and Shane don’t stick around. They turn, heading toward the back where Nikki told me they’d be—where I should be. I have no business talking to Drago while not on duty.
I look at him.
“Do I look like a girl to you?” I don’t wait for his answer. Don’t really care what it is. “Maybe you have some type of little girl fantasy, but I can assure you I’m not that little girl. And for the record, I’m a year older than you. If anyone’s the little one in this case, it’d be you.”
Rico has perfect timing. My Whiskey and soda shows up in front of me, so I gladly take it from him before he’s able to set it on the table, and then I take a sip.
Luca throws his head back and starts to pretend bawl.
“Bro, can I keep her? She’s more badass than you.” Luca smiles as he looks back and forth between Drago and me.
I think I like Drago’s brother better than him. He’s light-hearted. That’s easy to tell, and he seems fun.
“Why are you even here?”
Drago finally removes his hand from between my legs, but he’s slow about it, drawing his palm across my bare skin.
“Regretting making me stay, are ya?” I tease.
He shakes his head. “I didn’t make you do anything. You made the choice to stay in that seat.”
“It’s called coerced.”
I watch him as I finish my drink off. Damn, it’s good. And it goes down way too smooth. It’s been far too long since whiskey and I have made friends.
“So, you’re Robert Andrews’ daughter?” Drago cocks his head to the side.
“I’m outta here.”
We both turn to see Luca stand and stretch.
“You heading home?” Drago asks his brother, his voice taking on a softer tone.
“Nah.” He smiles that cute smile of his. “I think I’ll swing by Mia’s first.” His eyebrows dance up and down, telling me exactly what he’s going there to get.
“You sure that’s a good idea, Luca?” he sighs. Drago’s concerned tone makes me sit up a little straighter.
“Yeah, it’s cool.” Luca seems to brush whatever it is they’re talking about off then he looks at me. “You know, he’s really not as bad as you think he is.”
“Whoever said I thought he was bad?” What’s Drago told his brother, I wonder?
Luca shrugs his shoulders then takes off, leaving the two of us alone together.
Eventually, Drago lets out another, yet, larger sigh before finishing off his drink then signaling for the waiter.
“Bring us both another,” he says as Rico passes.
A few minutes pass with me staring at the side of Drago’s face, watching him stare out into the crowd of people around us—or maybe not staring at anything at all. And the weird thing is, I wish I knew what he was thinking right now.
Rico places our drinks down in front of us before quickly making himself scarce.
Eventually, he blows a long breath of air out before turning to face me. His eyes are hiding his thoughts. Not many people can mask their feelings from me but he’s doing a damn good job of it.
“Look, Acerbi,” Nikki’s voice catches us both off guard. “I don’t know why she’s talking to you. I guess maybe it’s none of my business except she’s my friend and you need to know that. My friend. Do anything she doesn’t like—hurt her—I’ll cut off your fucking balls and make you eat them. Are we clear on that?”
“I’m clear on the fact that you just threatened me in front of a cop.”
“Good thing I have selective hearing.” I quickly pull my glass to my lips and down my drink, not believing that actually came out of my mouth. I really have to leave this table.
Drago’s head whips around, giving me an angry glare. I don’t cower, and I’m not about to start now. Maybe I shouldn’t have said that, but I did. Oh, well, he doesn’t scare me. Guess he doesn’t scare Nikki either.
“Bri, babe, why aren’t you hanging with me? Do you not remember our convo from this morning?” Her lips tip. “I’m on a mission tonight.”
“What mission is that, Lockhart?”
“None of your business.” She turns her strikingly blue eyes on me. “C’mon already. Time’s a wastin’.”
Oh, fuck me. I’m so not sleeping with anyone tonight. Let alone someone I’ll only have known a couple of hours at best. I’m here to unwind with a couple of drinks and hopefully some good conversation.
I have to admit though, the last half hour has been . . . not awful. Definitely interesting. Maybe even I dare say—fun.
If this is what fun has come to—me conversing with a man I have no business talking to—then maybe Nikki is right. Maybe I do need a one-night stand.
Yeah . . . no.
“Well”—his palm tickles my knee sending shivers up and down my leg—“she can’t run off with you yet. She promised me a dance.” His head rolls toward me. “Didn’t you, detective?” A slow smile forms on his face like he’s won something.
He doesn’t look like the type that dances, so I’ll play his game.
“Yes, I did!” He raises an eyebrow at my mock-enthusiasm. Placing my hand over his, I squeeze as hard as I can while I gaze up at Nikki. “I’ll be a little longer. I’ll come find you when I finish spending time with the big bad wolf here.”
“Oh, baby,” he laughs. “I’m not a piss-ant little wolf.” Leaning over, his lips brush against my ear. “I’m the motherfucking fire-breathing dragon in this story.” His voice is meant to scare me. But the seduction laced in his tone only scorches my insides.
In an attempt to make sure he doesn’t know how he affects me, I roll my eyes at his lame comeback.
“Yeah . . . I’ll leave you guys to that.” Nikki turns, leaving us alone again.
“So, I promised you a dance.” I turn my head, facing him. I can’t help but glance down at those full lips that grace his mouth. “Let’s go, dragon man.”
7
What in the hell?
I crack my eyes open to see what’s furiously moving next to me. A dog; it’s a male dog from what I can plainly see with his genitalia on full display, lying on his back, legs spread. Male dog junk is just what I wanted to see this early. He’s twisting, turning, flopping around all over the bed like something is wrong with him.
Gathering the black sheet, I tighten it around my chest as I rise up, leaning on my elbow as I watch him play. It’s a little comical. But then he stops, tilts his head back and appears as if he’s smiling at me. It makes me smile . . . for a full second. With lightning speed, he’s on all fours and in my face licking and sniffing me.
“Whoa.” I pull back. He advances, stepping on my forearm. I h
ave no choice; I have to fall to the mattress and then twist in the opposite direction, tossing the covers off and quickly scramble out of the bed.
Turning, I look back at the bed. He’s standing at the edge, wagging his tail. Then he makes a sound as if trying to speak. It’s not a bark, but maybe could be described as a whine, bark, and growl all in one. Weird. Definitely weird.
Throbbing in my head starts to form and spread, making me groan. It’s then that I look around the rest of the room and memories of last night start to come back.
Drago.
The club.
Dancing.
How he smelled.
How he felt.
Shit. I came home with him. That much is obvious. And I must be in his bedroom now.
Looking down, I’m naked.
Why . . . why did I order Whiskey? Whiskey leads me to do stupid shit, case in point, having sex with a man I don’t know. A man I’m investigating for a crime. For the probability of importing illegal drugs into the United States. Something I’m against. Something I work hard at stopping on a daily basis.
I’ll berate myself later.
Slowly, my eyes roam over the room looking for the dress I wore the night before. Spotting it laid across the back of a chair in the corner of the room, I head that way.
It’s when I take the first step that I feel it.
Muscle soreness in my inner thighs confirms what my brain has already figured out. However, I’m in top shape. Granted, I haven’t had sex in over a year, but I workout and use my muscles quite regularly. Now I’m wondering what type of acrobatic sex this guy is into that could leave a reminder the following day.
It’s either that or he’s . . .
I go to reach for my dress but notice a stack of clothes along with flip-flops placed in the seat of the chair. Glancing at the floor I see my heels are sitting next to the chair. I look back to the items Drago left me. Dropping my hand, I pick up the top piece. A white, fitted T-shirt with the words Seattle in small green letters and Seahawks in larger, dark blue ones.
Dirty Blue: Dirty Justice - Book One Page 8