The warmth of our bed called me back, but the dream was still too fresh, and I knew that if I closed my eyes, it would begin again. Cool air. I needed to breathe it, to feel it touch my lungs. I pulled on a pair of sweatpants and snatched up the dress she had flung at me earlier. It was a dress that would have made me breathless to see her in, before I ripped it to shreds so no one else could.
Salvation waited on the front balcony. My hands tightened around the iron bars, the muscles in my arms flexing with the pressure, the dress dangling over the edge, fluttering with gusts of wind. A thin sheen of fog drifted from the river, real low, moving like a slow, creeping ghost over the cobblestones.
The street was fairly quiet, but the city was still awake. Sirens cried in the distance, and if I listened hard enough, I could hear the sounds of drunken laughter and throbbing music from all-night establishments. The scene unnerved me, made me want to pick her up and bring her to some peaceful spot in the world.
It would’ve been less disturbing if I could’ve blamed the dream on the night. Found fault in all of the excessive drinking, the fighting, the general tone of things. But there’s no comfort to be found in a lie.
I lifted the dress, no longer having to recreate the night her and Nick Lomas spent together in my head. What the dress couldn’t tell me, he did.
Hell.More whiskey seemed call for.
Nick Lomas expected me to go back. No man speaks of a man’s wife that way unless he’s stupid or wants the fight. Nick Lomas was far from ignorant. Monsters know monsters. It’s a fact of our life that the challenge becomes a thirst when presented. His comments were meant for me to hear. I had taken something that he thought he claimed as his.First.
I’ll never forget the way she moved against me, man. Her ear even tasted sweet.
When we returned to the bar, he wasn’t there, but I knew it wouldn’t be long before he came back. He wasn’t going far, especially with me on his mind. We ordered a few drinks, a few of the men played pool, got comfortable. At the mention of his name, Nick Lomas, a girl serving drinks stopped.
“What you want with Nick?” she said, lifting the tray of beers.
“He’s expecting me,” I said, downing another whiskey.
She narrowed her eyes. “He mess with your girl?”
I turned to face her. She took a step back.
“Wouldn’t be the first time.” She shrugged. “Did he hurt her?”
“He hurts women.”
“No, he doesn’t discriminate. So I suggest if you don’t want trouble, you move on and advise your girl to stay away from him. His bedroom tricks ain’t worth the hassle.” She went to walk off and then stopped. “If your girl is messin’ around, I’m okay with a revenge hookup. Even if she’s not, I’m game, if you’re the one playing.”
I turned around and ordered another drink. She muttered the words “fucking intense” before moving on.
Nick Lomas sat next to me not long after. His back was to the bar, his legs stretched, almost touching mine. Like he owned the air and I was a thief by breathing it. The tattoo on the top part of his hands, a skeleton with roses blooming from the empty eye sockets, was telling—he belonged to his own family. Baby birds compared to the Faustis, who were more like a pride of lions.
Out of all the men Scarlett could’ve gravitated to, she had moved toward a member of one of the most dangerous biker gangs. Not the geeky guy in the corner with black glasses, measuring in his head the correct amount of space he needed to make the pocket, or the Fabio wannabe who stood in the corner pretending to be mysterious. No, she went straight to the dark side without so much as an effing blink.
“You have?” The simple nature of that statement—when Nick Lomas had told her he had been waiting for her earlier—said it all. She was too fucking curious for her own good, and a magnet to the wrong types.
Nick Lomas snapped his fingers, and a girl with long black hair and tan skin came over—one eye black and blue. Her lip was busted, but crusted over with blood and scab, starting to heal.
“Carmen,” he said, pulling her back to his front. “Dance for me, princess.”
Carmen started moving against him, and his hands came around her waist, moving lower to her hips. Instead of watching her, he grinned at me. He was giving me a taste of the night he had with my wife. Though, no matter how hard he attempted to give me a mind fuck, I knew my wife would have never danced that way for him.
“I would offer her services, but this is second rate goods to a man like you. Sweet Scarlett has the treasure. I’ve never met a girl so flexible.”
I rolled my shoulders and then took a long drink of whiskey.
His buddy Knox, the one who had called EvaEvangeline, went to stand next to Gabriel, who sat next to me. Michael was next to Knox, and the poor asshole was sandwiched between the two itching Irishmen.
Knox started telling stories ofEvangelineand her rebellious Catholic school days. Gabriel knocked back his fair share of whiskey.
Rocco caught my eye. He stood with his back to the wall, in front of the pool table, a stick in his hand. Nick Lomas caught the contact, grinning when he noticed Rocco, and then Romeo and Dario coming to stand beside him. Their tattoos were visible, whether he knew who they were or not, but it didn’t seem to cross his mind to be concerned either way.
Fucking straight. He should be more concerned with the man sitting next to him.
The dance picked up. Nick Lomas watched the girl with magnetized eyes, running his tongue along his bottom lip. His hands were tender, encouraging.
