And until then, the mouth-watering hot wings of this place would keep me company.
As my order of wings was placed in front of me, I scanned the room. I saw a bunch of rough looking guys. Men with bald heads and long beards. Men with scars on their faces and burns on their arms. Men with tattoos that covered every inch of their body and men lighting up cigarettes with other cigarettes. There was a permanent haze of secondhand smoke that had permeated the air of the bar, and at any other point in time I would have promptly gotten up and walked out.
But, not this time.
Tonight, was the first night of official work.
While the guys were rough-looking, none of them were wearing leather cuts. They were all in cut-off shirts or holey t-shirts or barebacked with that shit slung over their shoulder. Practically unsanitary. But then again, this place was the definition of a dive bar. I picked up my first chicken wing and devoured it, slathering it in ranch. Damn, they were so good. And for a little while, it took my mind off my purpose. Off my word. Off my requirement to be there. I ate my ten chicken wings and washed it all down with my drink, then promptly ordered another from the bartender.
I wiped my fingers off with a napkin and dabbed at my face, then turned my attention back to the bar. And not a moment too soon.
I saw some of the guys checking me out. Their eyes roaming my body and the way my legs straddled the barstool seat. But, it didn’t matter. All I did was ignore them. I was there on a mission, not to get laid. Nope. That type of thing was used for celebratory purposes. After I had completed a task and helped my family’s business forward itself into a greater beyond.
And even if I was celebrating, pathetic men from local street gangs didn’t do it for me.
I sat there for what seemed like forever with my second Moscow mule. My food had settled, and the heat from the wings had finally died down on my tongue. And still, no one had surfaced. No one that looked as if they could even be remotely connected to the Black Hornets. I kept waving the bartender off, who was now starting to check me out as well. He kept staring down my damn shirt, trying to get a peek at my tits. Granted, I had them shoved up nice. A decent push-up bra with a shirt that cut just a little too low.
“Care for another one, beautiful?” the bartender asked.
“No, thanks. I’d like my check though, please,” I said.
“Leaving so soon?”
“I think I’ve been here almost three hours.”
“You could stay three more. Close this place down with me.”
“And while that sounds incredible, sweet cheeks, I’d really just like my check,” I said.
The bartender nodded as a frown took over his face and he walked over to his register. I knew he wasn’t happy, but I didn’t care. The first night had been a bust, but usually, they were. I’d only been lucky one time to get an undercover operation started off on the right foot the first night. So, I didn’t hold my breath for things like that. The bartender slammed my check down and walked away without another word, and I took it as permission to not tip him for the night.
Sorry, but my body isn’t for sale.
I paid my tab and signed off on my check, then slid my card back into my pocket. And as I slipped my purse onto my shoulder, I heard the doors of the bar bust open. I whipped my head over and saw a behemoth of a man walk in. His swollen body tugged at the only leather cut that had come in that night, and I paused to take a better look at him.
His hair had faded sides with a cropped top and dirty blonde hair that was just enough to smooth a hand through. Even through the smoky haze of the bar, I knew the color of his eyes. A dazzling aquamarine that lent a boyish tone to his features. He stood tall. With his shoulders rolled back and his thick arms swinging at his sides as he walked. He had long legs. Very, very long legs. Legs with muscles that tugged at his denim, screaming to break free from the painted confines of his pants.
He looked up at me and caught my eye, and he almost smiled. Before someone called his name.
“Maverick! Been a while. The fuck you drinkin’!?”
I whipped my head over at the bartender, but he didn’t pay me any mind.
Did he just say ‘Maverick’?
The guy with the dazzling blue eyes at the heaviest walk I’d ever seen sat directly across from me. On the other side of the bar. He looked like he was friendly with those in the establishment because people kept coming up to him and patting him on the shoulder. Or shaking his hand. At one point in time, a woman came up behind him and pressed a kiss to the back of his head, prompting him to turn around. And that was when I caught a glimpse of it.
His Black Hornets patch on the back of his leather cut.
I put my purse back down as the crowd essentially accosted the man. And every once in a while, I’d catch his stare. At one point in time, he threw me a playful wink. Like he was biding his time until he could get over to me. I slid my check off to the side, much to the bartender’s dismay, and watched the throng of people crowd him and bombard him with questions that caught my attention.
“I can’t thank you enough for what you did for my son.”
“Is it true? Are you guys really doing something about it?”
“I caught her with it yesterday. I thought Dean took care of this.”
“What’s going to happen?”
“Should we be worried?”
I watched carefully as Maverick calmed down the crowd. And when they all finally went and made their way back to their seats, he reached out for the bartender’s arm. He pulled the poor man into him and whispered something in his ear, and I cocked my head curiously. The bartender snickered and shook his head, then I watched him get to work. What was the behemoth of a man drinking that evening? What would be the libation filling his muscles and his gut? I felt Maverick’s stare on me. His dancing blue eyes with a playful grin that went along with a boyish charm he seemed to exude.
And a few minutes later, the bartender relieved me of one copper mug and placed another one beside me.
“I told him you weren’t looking for company, but he insisted. From the guy over there at the end of the bar. His name’s Maverick.”
My eyes connected with the bartender before fluttering back over to Maverick.
“Well, let the kind man know that I’m very appreciative of his drink. And if he wants to wait his turn, I might just pay him a visit.”
The bartender’s face grew red with anger as he left me to be with my drink. I looked up at Maverick, and he tossed me another wink before beer was slid in his direction. A Corona with a lime stuffed into the neck of it. That drink brought back so many memories. My father used to drink those all the time until my mother got onto him for drinking in the house around my sisters and me. Now, he went out and drank them. But the smell of a Corona with lime on the tip of my father’s tongue would always be a wonderful childhood memory.
That and the mint chewing gum my mother was always smacking her lips on.
I sipped at my drink, eyeing him carefully to try and reel him in. I smiled when he turned his gaze to me, and I tossed him a wink in return. He wiggled in his seat. Obviously adjusting himself. Oh, this was all too easy with men like him. My first night. Who would have fucking thought that on my first night one of the Black Hornets would drop directly into my lap? And he wasn’t half-bad looking either. If I played my cards right for the evening, I wouldn’t have to use my last-ditch effort of sounding like a damsel in distress.
If I played my cards right, I could merely be a slice of pie he kept coming back for. And in exchange for that pie, I could get information.
Bonus points if I could get him to take me back to his place so I could snoop around.
I watched him order a massive plate of wings, and he ate down every single one of them. But not without making it a show for my viewing pleasure. He wrapped his tongue around those bad boys and puckered his lips, sometimes sucking all the chicken off the damn bone with one fell swoop. It made me giggle. Usually, that was a woma
n’s move. To show dexterity with her tongue and her lips. I’d know. I’d used that trick a couple of times on men that were harder to snag. But the way his man rolled his eyes back into his head and practically made out with his damn chicken wings made me giggle.
Maybe a little too hard.
By the time he was done with the plate of wings, I was in full-blown hysterics. I had to dab at the tears at my eyes before finishing off my third drink. It was official. We had bonded over his overblown sexual gestures, and it was time to seal the deal. I’d never bonded quite like that with a mark before, and the confidence I had attempted to instill within myself wasn’t a well I had to draw from that night. Even if I weren’t undercover, I’d still go over and talk to the man. In another world, I’d still try to go home with him. Just so I could run my fingertips over those swollen muscles and feel what a real man could do to a woman.
I shivered at the thought as I finished off the rest of my drink. I slid my cup over to the bartender, thanked him for his time, and slipped myself off my stool. It was time to enact my plan. It was time to get the ball rolling. It was time for me to make my family proud.
It was time to go introduce myself to my next victim.
Chapter 5
Maverick
I walked into the bar and drew in a deep breath. I had no idea what it was about this place, but I loved coming to it. The dive bar was located near one of the club’s restaurants we opened on a whim, and not a single part of it had changed. The stale scent of beer. The cigarette smoke. The rough and tumble wannabes that frequented the damn place. It felt like home. Like the streets, I used to walk during my childhood. It was an excellent place for me to sit, get a drink, have some wings, and chill the fuck out.
But tonight, there was something different about it.
I wasn’t sure what it was, but the second my eyes landed on my seat, I knew. At the end of the bar, right in the exact place I usually sat in, was a beautiful woman. Fucking gorgeous, really. She had pin straight shoulder-length brown hair, with gray eyes that were downcast into a beat up copper mug. Her body wore an outfit that fit her curves perfectly, and her breasts practically spilled out of the damn top she was wearing. She was short. My kind of short. Women that came in small packages really got me going. Her legs hardly reached the damn rests on the bar stool and her thick thighs curved with her tight jeans.
My night got better with the sight of her.
Her eyes turned and looked over at me. A gaze she graced me with that soon turned into an available smirk. I knew what women looked like when they took in the sight of something they wanted. I got that look a great deal throughout my life. Sometimes it was the baby blue eyes. Other times it was the stacks of muscle I painstakingly kept up. But for her, there was something different. Her carnal desire sat elsewhere. And when her eyes fell directly to my crotch, I knew I was dealing with a species of woman that was as rare as a naturally-ensconced ruby.
A woman who was straight-forward about what she wanted.
I walked over to the other end of the bar and sat down. But before I could make a move, I was hounded with people. Some came up to thank me, and some came up to ask questions that made me nervous. Questions that no one would be asking unless things were percolating around town about shit we were trying to keep under wraps.
“I can’t thank you enough for what you did for my son.”
“Is it true? Are you guys really doing something about it?”
“I caught her with it yesterday. I thought Dean took care of this.”
“What’s going to happen?”
“Should we be worried?”
Shit. Someone was running their mouth more than they needed to. And, from these questions, drugs were also in the hands of some of these people’s children. Townspeople I’d known for years. Children I’d been introduced to as infants. I calmed the crowd down as much as I could, trying to tell them what they wanted to hear. That things would be okay. That we had it under control. That we were investigating and had been for a while now. That Dean and us would finally get this situation nipped in the bud.
And after painstakingly calming the damn flood of people down, I turned my sights back to her.
There was something in her stare that drew me in. Something in the allure of her gray eyes that made me yank the bartender over. Her olive skin called to me. A stark contrast to the wolfish gray of her eyes. I told the bartender to get her another of whatever she had been drinking. The fact that she had finished her drink and not ordered another one just wouldn’t do. The bartender didn’t seem too happy at that fact. In all honesty, he looked downright pissed off at the matter.
But I didn’t give a shit.
Tonight, that woman was mine.
The bartender slid the drink her way before he beckoned his head over to me. And when our eyes connected, I knew I had her. Hook, line, and sinker. It always worked.
When I got my wings, I decided to have some fun with her. And with each giggle that escaped her pretty fucking lips, I knew it was only a matter of time before I would have my hips between her legs. When I saw her slide from her seat, I tried to hide the smirk on my face. Damn, I was fucking good.
She knew what she wanted for the evening, and she was prepared to come get it herself.
“Hello there.”
Her sweet, lilting voice was music to my ears.
“Hi,” I said, grinning.
“I take it you’re the one to thank for the drink.”
She held up the copper mug, and I slowly nodded my head.
“Moscow mule?” I asked.
“The only drink worth drinking.”
“I get by with a Corona with a lime wedge.”
“My father drinks those.”
“I’m not sure if you comparing me to your father right off the bat is a good thing.”
“Depends on whether or not my father is a good man,” she said.
“And is he?”
She sipped her cheek with a grin on her face, and already my cock was throbbing hard.
“Would you like to sit down?” I asked.
“Love to,” she said.
I reached over and pulled out the seat beside me, then watched her climb up. Fuck me, she was small. And that voluptuous ass of hers poked out as she climbed into the chair. She did it with grace. Elegance. And the meat of her thighs glared at me, taunting me to touch it. I drew in a deep breath as she sat down in the chair next to me, sliding her drink over her way. The bartender slipped me another Corona with lime, and I tipped it to my lips, trying desperately to get my cock to stop growing.
My pants were way too tight to keep that shit from being noticeable.
“Do you come here often?” she asked.
“I do. Which is why you caught my eye. I haven’t seen you around here before,” I said.
“That’s why I caught your eye?”
My eyes panned over and met her grin as she sat back into her chair and sipped her drink. She languidly crossed her legs, making her thighs stand out more than usual. My eyes dropped to her bare legs before coming back up to meet her eyes, and she looked positively enamored with the fact that my eyes traveled her body.
“Hell of an outfit have on,” I said.
“Hell of a pair of pants,” she said, smirking.
“I’ve always enjoyed my riding pants a little on the tighter side.”
“So that is a motorcycle jacket you’re wearing, then.”
“That it is.”
“The Black Bumblebees?”
I chuckled. “Is that a joke?”
“Depends. Was it funny?”
“Maybe a little bit,” I said, grinning.
“Then, yes. It was a joke.”
“What if I had said it wasn’t funny?”
“Then I would have told you to lighten up.”
“Sassy. I like it.”
“More like blunt,” she said.
“Which is something else I enjoy.”
“Don’t mistake it for ho
nest. I’m almost never honest.”
“Interesting. How can someone be blunt, but never honest?”
“I’ll always tell you what I think, but never tell you how I feel,” she said.
“Oh, really? So, you won’t tell someone if they hurt you?”
“No. I simply write them off and keep going.”
“You’ll never tell anyone if they upset you?”
“Nope. I’ll tell them what a piece of shit I think they are, and then I’ll keep going.”
“What if you’re happy?”
“I’ll sing a little tune and whistle a little song,” she said coyly.
“Well… what if you simply feel… good?”
I reached out my finger for her thigh and traced my nail over it. My eyes fell to the connection as I ran my finger from her kneecap up her thigh. And every goose bump on arms leg stood up on end. She reached down and wrapped her small hand around mine, then slowly withdrew my finger from her leg.
“Guess your body doesn’t have any issues spilling your secrets,” I said, smirking.
I expected her to have some sort of a fierce rebuttal, but instead what I got was something much better. She pulled my finger all the way up to her lips before hovering the tip of it just beyond her pout, and my cock was at full mast. Pressing hard against my fucking jeans and ready to leak against my boxer briefs. She darted her tongue out and lapped at it. Wrapped her damn tongue around it as my hand physically quivered in her grasp.
Then, she placed my hand back in her lap before her eyes dropped to my crotch.
“Looks like your body doesn’t mind spilling secrets, either,” she said, giggling.
“Can’t help it when a beautiful woman toys with me the way you are,” I said.
“Toys with you? I’m hurt. I thought I was making my intentions very clear.”
Maverick (The Black Hornets MC Book 2) Page 3