I couldn't help but laugh. She wasn't going to be disappointed. A lot of "real men" frequented the Naked Lady--rough around the edges, tough, dirty-talking men who didn't know the meaning of the word “no”. Holly was a black belt, though. She could take care of both of us if it came down to it. She'd taught me a few moves, but I hadn't practiced them in a while.
"Okay, let's go." She grabbed her small handbag and headed for the door, assuming that I was following behind her. "You remember our signals?"
"Of course. Twirling our hair means we're bored with the man we're with and need rescuing. The peace sign means we've met someone and we're either bringing him home or going to his place. If that's the case, we ask to see his driver's license, and then we text his name, his address, and his phone number. A regular wave means we're heading to the restroom and will be right back. And a finger wave means we're ready to go home."
"Good girl!" she laughed, opening the front door to our apartment.
We decided to take an Uber, since we were both drinking and it was a given that we'd end up a little tipsy. The Naked Lady wasn't far from where we lived. It was a Saturday night, and when we got there the parking lot was full with mostly bikes and trucks, with the semis parked in the back of the lot. The noise of rock n' roll music could be heard from inside the bar when the Uber pulled up to the door. Holly handed the driver a tip before turning to take a look at the bar.
"This doesn't look so bad," she said before we went inside. "Remember our number one rule--stay within eyesight of each other."
We stepped inside the bar and I stopped because Holly had. The place was packed. As far as I could tell, all of the tables had been taken. It was hard to see the bar because some men were standing around it, but I was willing to bet that the stools were all occupied as well. Between the overloud music and the sounds of laughter and chatter, the noise was deafening. I could see three of the five stripper poles from the door, the naked girls doing their thing and driving the men wild. The dance floor was also crowded.
Holly turned to me, putting her hand on my arm. "Okay, change of plans. Try to stay in eyesight of each other if we get separated. Definitely don't leave here for any reason without contacting the other one first. Okay?"
"Okay!" I yelled to be heard.
As soon as Holly walked into the crowd we became separated. I didn't even try and follow her, much less keep up with her. Too much was going on, and I decided to make my way to the bar where I saw Tommy working furiously. I managed to squeeze in between two guys who were facing away from each other.
Tommy caught my eye. "Hey sweetie! I sure wish you were working tonight!"
"Me, too!" I smiled, watching him move around like a demon with a fire on his tail. "But someone had to go and fire me."
His face turned sad. "Not my call, sweetheart." His friendly blue eyes dropped down my body. "You look hot tonight!"
"What do you mean I look hot tonight? I look hot every night!"
He laughed good-naturedly and continued pouring drinks faster than my eyes could keep up with. Alex, Marnie, Jackie, Alisha, and two other servers that I wasn't familiar with were literally running drinks to their tables and then coming back for more. I felt bad for Tommy. He could barely fill his orders fast enough. Sweat was running down his face, and his white shirt was plastered to his torso. I shook my head, confused more than ever as to why I'd been fired. They clearly needed another bartender.
I made a snap decision and made my way around the bar.
"What are you doing?" Tommy asked with slight panic on his face.
"Relax; I'm just going to help you get through the mad rush. I'll handle Mr. James if he shows up. Maybe this will convince him that you do need another bartender."
He looked at me with confusion for a minute. "Oh, oh, Beckett James." He laughed nervously.
I didn't question his odd behavior, there wasn't time. I began filling drink orders for the girls, and before long Tommy and I were working side-by-side and splitting the work. Two hours flew by before a slight lull allowed me to take a bathroom break.
"I'll be right back," I smiled, meeting Tommy's eyes. God, I had to pee!
I did a little dance on my way to the ladies room, looking for Holly along the way. I'd kept watch for her while I'd been behind the bar and I’d noticed that she'd taken up residence at a table of partying ladies. Leave it to Holly to crash a party in a bikers' bar. The way she was acting revealed that she might already know one or two of them. That didn't surprise me either. Holly made friends fast.
She glanced my way and I gave her the regular wave before ducking down the short hallway that led to the ladies room. I came to a stop. Crap! There was a line leading up to the door. I did a little jig, about to wet my pants; I had to go so bad. I glanced at the men's door, there wasn't a soul there. Should I? I looked back at the six women in line. Yes, I should. I couldn't wait. I rushed to the men's door and pushed it in, closing my eyes as I walked into the room.
"I'm not looking! I'm sorry, but I've got to go so bad, and there's a line for the ladies room!" I was mortified because I could hear the obvious sound of a man peeing in a urinal. He grunted. I kept my eyes closed and felt my way to a stall. "I'm so sorry about this!" I rushed out again, pushing in the stall door. "But if I don't go now I'm going to have an accident." I was so freaking embarrassed! But what else could I do?
I slipped my panties down and did my business, groaning at the close call, and then I was groaning at how loudly the sound of my peeing echoed off the walls. I heard the sound of a zipper being zipped outside of the stall and then the sound of running water. I’d hoped that the man would be gone by the time I was done, but I hadn't heard the door open to indicate that he’d left.
Great! Just great! What was he waiting for? I pulled up my panties, straightened my skirt, flushed the toilet, and opened the door. "Martin!" I was slightly relieved to see him standing in the bathroom, and not some stranger.
"I thought it was you," he grinned after giving me the once over. “Not used to seeing you all sexed up," he joked.
I laughed, going to the sink to wash my hands. "It's such a good disguise," I teased back. "I'm not working tonight. Well, I'm helping Tommy out, but I was fired yesterday. Holly and I just came to have some fun." I was rattling on and I hadn't even had a drink yet. "I'm hoping to run into Beckett James and try to talk him into re-hiring me. Honestly, I'm confused over why I was fired in the first place."
"Beckett James?"
I glanced up from the mirror, noticing Martin's frown. "Yeah, the owner of this place." I reached for the paper towels, turning to face him as I dried my hands. "Do you live here?" It occurred to me that he was always there.
His laughter sounded a little forced. "I know it seems that way. Actually, I'm doing research for a story I'm working on."
That's right. I seemed to recall him mentioning that he was an author. "So, what kind of romance are you writing?"
His laughter seemed genuine this time. "Funny. I'm a non-fiction writer."
I threw the paper towels away. "Oh, yeah? What have you written? Maybe I've read you." I was joking with him. The only reading I did was the occasional romance novel.
The look that crossed Martin's face gave me a weird feeling. "I doubt it," he said seriously. Then he took me by the arm. "Come on, I'll buy you a drink."
He went to open the door at the same time that someone pushed from the other side. I jumped back just in the nick of time to keep from being hit by it, and ended up in Martin's arms. I caught my breath. The man stepping into the restroom was the same one that I'd seen with the woman the day before. Our eyes clashed in an instant of recognition. The man was even sexier up close, in spite of the hardening of his firm jaw. I'd never seen black eyes before, and his were frightening in their intensity, freezing me in my spot.
The man was big, and not just tall. He was wearing clothes that identified him as a biker. My gaze shifted over the muscles in his arms that seemed to be straining even though
he appeared relaxed. Veins bulged along his muscular forearms. I took in the thickness of his neck and shoulders, the strength in his face, and the sensual smoothness of his tight mouth. His hair was short, dirty blond.
Everything about him was cold, hard, and scary.
His gaze shifted over my head to look at Martin. "Since when do you bring women into the men's room to fuck?"
I gasped, at first too shocked to acknowledge his crude comment. But then I felt my Irish temper rising and I pulled myself together. I pulled away from Martin's arms and raised my hand to the hulk blocking my way, poking his rock-hard chest with my finger. I was suddenly glad that I had long nails. "You shouldn't jump to conclusions, asshole!" I hissed, poking him for each word. Then I squeezed past him and left the restroom.
What a jerk!
A hot jerk!
But a jerk none the less!
Chapter 3
Bailey
I was still fuming as I made my way back to the bar, practically mowing people over in my mini wake. Okay, maybe that was an exaggeration, but I swear it seemed as if the sea of people parted eagerly when they saw me coming. I'd forgotten Martin was behind me when I stormed behind the bar to begin filling drink orders again.
"I wanted to buy you a drink, honey. I didn't expect you to make it, too," Martin joked, managing to find a vacant barstool.
Martin was a nice man. He was tall, around six-feet I gauged, and I could tell that he had a nice build beneath his white button down shirt and jeans. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing the nice shape of his slightly muscular forearms. Clean-shaven, his black hair was cut short and neatly combed. He had a nice face, too. Not too handsome, but definitely appealing. His brown eyes were always watchful and suggested that he may have a secret or two. He seemed safe and easy-going. I could tell that he was interested in me, but for some reason he was holding himself back. Flirting was as far as it had gone between us.
In my dreams I went for the bad boy with the badass traits of growliness and messy bed hair. This was probably why the asshole that I'd just left in the men's room was attractive to me--his looks, not his attitude. I could tell that he was a dangerous man, someone who went through life doing what he wanted, taking what he wanted, and saying what he wanted, a man with no filter. That had been obvious. The man was a bonafide asshole, and I didn't like him, attractiveness aside.
I gave Martin a forced smile, still stewing over what had occurred in the bathroom. "I'll take that drink, but I'm going to help Tommy out for another hour or two.
"You don't have to, honey," Tommy said, overhearing me.
I shot him a smile. "I want to, it's not your fault you have a jerk for a boss." I turned back to Martin. "What will you have?"
"Whisky, and fix the lady whatever she wants."
I gave him a wink and turned to pour him a whisky and a beer for me. Tommy moved up next to me and whispered into my ear, "Jerk alert."
I met his eyes. "Really?" I began to look around the bar, a fruitless effort since I didn't know what the man looked like."Do you see him?"
Tommy started to do the same thing I had, his smile fading. "Oh, yeah, I see him, and he doesn't look too happy."
I froze. "Does he see me?"
He nodded. "I'd definitely say that he sees you." Our eyes met. "Maybe you'd better run out the back door. He's scary when he's mad."
I couldn't tell if Tommy was joking or serious. I frowned. "Why should he be mad? I'm just helping you out." I pretended that nothing was wrong when I turned back to set Martin's drink down. I took a sip of my beer, my gaze moving around the room in search of the man who was apparently giving us the evil eye, but the only one my eyes noticed was the sexy bad ass biker I'd nearly broken a nail on.
He was stomping straight toward us with a look on his face that was beyond angry. He was furious over something, his expression hard as stone, a cold glint in his black eyes. I froze, slightly alarmed as his eyes settled on me. I looked back at Tommy, but he was busy filling drinks again. Martin was sipping his drink, and looking at something in the mirror behind me with a weird look on his face, as if he were waiting for something to happen that he was going to enjoy.
Suddenly the mean-faced biker was behind the bar and snapping, "I want to talk to you." He grabbed my upper arm in a painful grip that made me flinch.
"Ouch!" I tried to pull away. "I don't want to talk to you, I don't even know you!" I attempted to pull away again. I tried to draw Tommy's gaze, but he was rushing around filling the trays the servers had dropped off.
"What, you going to fuck Tommy next for those free drinks?" His growl should have been a warning, but it did nothing to curb my own rising temper. "You were fired."
What? My eyes flew to Tommy as I was being dragged out from behind the bar. "Tommy!" I screamed so he could hear me, my tone clearly demanding an explanation.
He spared me a quick glance as he was filling a beer mug. "Sorry, honey. Meet the boss!"
Boss?! I met the fierce eyes of the boss. There was nothing friendly in his glittering eyes. "You're Beckett James?" I asked in disbelief.
"I'll deal with you later," he snarled back to Tommy, while totally ignoring my question.
"Martin, I'll be right back!" I called behind my back as Beckett James continued to drag me down the short hallway to his office, the very office where I'd caught him fucking a woman the day before. As he pulled me away, I had to wonder why Martin wasn't making a move to interject, or at the very least to question what was going on. Maybe he wasn’t as interested in me as I'd thought.
"Do you mind?" I hissed as soon as we were in his office. I jerked my arm away from him, conscious of the fact that he'd let me get away. "You have a lot of nerve!" I rubbed where his hand had circled my arm. "You've insulted me twice tonight. Are you going to try for a third?"
He slammed the door behind us, and I was too pissed to recognize the danger in that. "Your ass was fired. What the fuck were you doing behind the bar?"
"I was helping Tommy out, for your information."
"Looked like you were drinking beer," he sneered.
"Well I'd already put in two hours and thought I deserved a break. Besides, Martin was paying for that beer."
"He should, after you fucked him in the bathroom."
I slapped him. I'd never slapped anyone before, and I stood there in stunned shock, feeling the sting on my palm. Before I had a chance to do anything else I was walked backwards and trapped within his arms against the very door that he'd just closed. He was beyond furious. His jaw was clenched so tight that it was a wonder it didn't crack, and there was a promise of retribution in the eyes narrowing down at me. His nostrils were flaring like a race-exhausted stallion, and I felt a moment of real fear. I didn't know this man. I didn't know what he was capable of, and I was alone with him.
"I don't hit women," he gritted down into my face. "I have other ways of punishing them."
I brought my arms up to push him away. "I'm sure you kill them with kindness," I hissed, angry when he caught my wrist and brought my arms above my head, pinning them to the cool surface of the door. "What—" That's as far as I got before he slammed his mouth down on mine and I found out what exactly what his form of punishment was.
There was nothing soft, tender, or even lustful about his kiss. His mouth was punishing, rough, cruelly grinding against my softer one and causing me to whimper in pain. I felt my teeth cutting into the inside of my lips and tried to rear back to lessen the pressure, but I had nowhere to go with the door at my back. I tried to push him away with my body but he had a hand against my hip and held me still. Damn him! What did he think he was doing? He should know better than to piss off an Irish woman.
I tasted blood and brought my knee up, but he intercepted that, too. Groaning in frustration, I opened my mouth and bit down hard on his bottom lip. He wasn't the only one who could draw blood. He growled and jerked back as if in surprise, and I watched as his tongue came out to lick at the blood gathering there.<
br />
"Now we're even!" I hissed. "Now get off me!"
We were both breathing heavily. We were both angry. And while his expression still reflected fury, I watched as something changed in his eyes. I saw an emotion in them that sent panic through my system, because I thought I'd recognized it as lust.
"You should know better than to piss off a man you don’t know."
"You should know better than to piss off an Irish woman."
That comment seemed to bring attention to my red hair. His gaze moved over it, which I knew was crazy wild. Then he explored my face, entrapping my eyes until the heat filling my cheeks forced me to glance down. But not before I'd seen the corner of his lip curl up in what could be considered a tiny smile--no, more like a smirk, for a man like him. An arrogant smirk.
"Why did you fire me?" I asked after a while. I was genuinely interested in his answer.
He expelled a heavy breath and released me, stepping away. "You don't belong here." His gaze moved down and up my body, missing nothing, and leaving me melting inside. "In spite of how you're fucking dressed."
I slammed my hands on my hips, about to challenge his statement. "What does that even mean?" I snapped in frustration. "How do I not belong here? I'm a good bartender, and I need that job."
He moved to his desk and leaned against the corner. "You're too fucking innocent, and I don't want to have to worry about some drunk trying to get inside your pussy."
I let out a huff. "Do you have to be so crude?" I really wanted to call him a pig. "And I'm twenty-five and not a virgin, so I think that takes my innocence off the table."
"Not good enough. You look like a fucking teenager, and you're too tiny to hold your own against a man." He crossed his massive arms.
"I've been here for two fucking weeks and nothing has happened!" I said heatedly. "And I seemed to hold my own against you." I knew that was a mistake as soon as the words left my mouth. It was an exaggeration. We both knew that he'd controlled every second of that situation.
Furious (Nomad Outlaws Trilogy Book 3) Page 2