~ 2 ~
Fighter
I lit a cigarette, the smoke trailing up in front of my eyes as I leaned back in the hard bar seat. One arm was thrown over the back of the booth while the other plucked the cigarette from between my lips.
I was sitting in the Coyote bar watching Penny Benite dance with one of her girlfriends. She loved to dance. Girl knew how to as well. Her hips swung from side to side in time with the beat and her hands trailed through her long hair, dropping it over one bare shoulder. Every set of male eyes in the bar was on her, and I couldn’t help but feel sorry for the other women in the place.
Her friend checked her watch and then leaned in, whispering something in Penny’s ear, and she nodded before they both broke out into laughter. Her friend was more my type, despite Penny being a fox. Her friend was short and blond, blue eyes, big tits, and a little waist that I could probably wrap my large hand around. Mostly she looked like she’d be a perfectyes-sir-type woman. But best of all, despite the confidence she exuded when she was around Penny, every time she left to go get them drinks from the bar or headed off to the bathroom alone, her confidence waned. Now that was the type of woman I liked. She would be easy to bend to my whim, to construct into what I needed and wanted, and she’d be begging for more afterwards too. I liked my women like I liked my beer—around when I wanted them and easy to discard when I’d had enough.
The two women stopped dancing and headed over to their booth, their bodies glistening with a light sheen of sweat that I wanted to lick off. Penny’s gaze roved the bar, her amber eyes taking in every person around her like she was hunting. I would have believed it too, if it weren’t for the fact that her sharp eyes had already missed me several times.
What kind of hunter misses being hunted?
Her friend was saying something to her, but Penny’s gaze was elsewhere, her thoughts clearly on something else. Probably wondering when she’d be leaving. Because that was how it worked for her. She’d go out for a few hours and then leave abruptly once her daddy called. Man didn’t like his daughter being out too late. He also didn’t like her hanging around with anyone that wasn’t some way connected to the club.
As if on cue, Penny reached into her little black purse and pulled out her cell, rapidly hitting the digits before dropping it back in and nodding at her friend. I picked up my beer and downed the rest of it as the two women headed through the bar toward the exit. Despite it only being a little after ten, it looked like playtime was over for the night.
Outside I mingled with the crowd of people so as not to be seen, watching from the sidelines as a Harley pulled up to the sidewalk. I didn’t recognize the man on it, but he had the telltale marks of Razuuk, the Vipers’ president, down his face: two large gashes going from the top of his scalp to the bottom of his chin. Looked like claw marks. From the digging I’d done on the Vipers’ club, it seemed that Razuuk liked to do that to any man who looked at his daughter the wrong way.
Penny hugged her friend and they chatted for a moment or two before she climbed on the back of the bike and sped away, leaving her friend behind, looking disgruntled as shit at being left on her own. Again.
That was my cue.
I stalked toward her and the crowd automatically moved out of my way.
“Need a light?” I asked, enjoying the fear that flitted through her eyes as she turned around and looked up at me.
She had her hand wrapped around a pack of Marlboros and she nodded quickly and tapped one out, her hands shaking. I pinned her with my cold, hard gaze, holding her hostage as I let a smile crawl up my face. I held out my hand, flicking the lighter, and she leaned down, pressing the tip of her cigarette to the flame, and inhaled before standing back up.
“Thanks.” She flicked her tongue out over her lips, her nervousness and fear giving way to her desire.
I wasn’t wearing my cut that night; instead I was going incognito in a black tight-fitting T-shirt, baggy jeans, and my black boots, but I knew I didn’t look like a good guy. In most people’s eyes, I was the guy from the wrong side of the tracks. The one that would fuck you and leave you high and dry. The one that would steal from your grandma with no fucks to give.
Women were always going on about how they wanted a nice guy to settle down with, but what they didn’t say was that was that wanted to be fucked by the bad guy first. They wanted a taste of the deviant and the wild. They wanted a man like me lapping at their pussies and defiling them before they settled down for the good and wholesome life.
Those memories had to last them a lifetime, and I always made sure they would.
“What’s your name?” I asked, not really giving two shits what her name was, but I needed to get Penny in the bag soon—and if I didn’t get her on her own, that was never going to happen. At least not without spilling blood, which would blow my cover.
This bitch was my only way in.
“Violet.” She smiled as she said her name, like it was a fucking prize to hear her say it, when really it was a name I forgot the moment she said it, attached to the face of a woman I’d forget as soon as I had what I needed.
I reached out, wrapping a hand around her bicep and pulling her gently to me. She crashed into my hard chest, a gasp escaping her pink-painted lips, and I reached round and threaded my hand through her hair.
“That’s a real pretty name,” I growled as I tipped her face up to me.
Her pupils dilated, her cigarette dropping to the ground at our feet. “Thanks,” she mumbled.
This was too easy.
Shewas too easy.
It was going to be a long fucking night.
“Feel like grabbing a quick drink?” I asked, leaning in to kiss her neck, my tongue sliding up her throat. Her body trembled, her hands gripping me harder and her nails digging into my skin. “Or you wanna get out of here?”
I placed a kiss on her mouth, hard, demanding, fucking owning her with it. She grunted something and I chuckled.
