Page 17

“Are you playing pinball?” Steph asks, twirling a strand of hair coyly around her finger. I’m sure she meant the action to look seductive, but to me it just looks stupid.

They’re both nice enough and I don’t want to be rude, but my rule has always been to draw the least amount of attention to myself by any means possible.

“I’m not. My sister’s using that machine. I told her I’d guard her balls.”

They both giggle so loudly that Kael turns around at the bar. Her gaze is like a laser, zeroing in on me with a finely honed scope. Her eyes narrow and her lips thin out. The next instant, she’s giving me the stink eye from hell. Right. She’s annoyed by my presence and annoyed when I remove it.

My being polite now gives the wrong impression. It only encourages Steph and Cammi to lean in, so their perfume nearly chokes me. They start giggling about bikes and the club, asking me if I’m heading back there after and what time I’m leaving.

“We’re good at guarding balls,” Steph says.

“Have you ever had two at once,” Cammi asks boldly, loud enough for half the place to hear.

I know for certain that one person in particular hears.

I watch her turn to Patti and shake her head like she’s changing her drink order.

Within a few seconds, Patti has a tray out and several shot glasses lined up.

She takes down a bottle of whiskey from behind the bar and fills the glasses, arranging them neatly on the tray.

Kael pays her, even though her tab would be added to mine and covered by the club.

She turns around with that tray, walks two feet from the bar, locks eyes with me while Cammi starts listing all the ways she can make sure I’m not lonely tonight and Steph nods her head emphatically to each point.

Kael lifts the first shooter and tosses it back. She doesn’t even wince.

“I have virtually no gag reflex…”

She picks up the second and the third so fast, knocking them back one after the other. At least there’s a small crinkle of her nose as she slams back the third.

“I really, really love anal. Like… a lot.”

This can’t be real.

The fourth shot quickly disappears down Kael’s throat. Her red lipstick doesn’t smudge off on any of those little glasses.

“If you’re into watching, we’d be happy to go down… on each other.”

The fifth shot goes back like Kael doesn’t even taste it by now.

“I love eating pussy as much as I love taking a cock. In any way.”

The sixth and seventh are pounded back and she reaches for the eighth and last glass. Patti must have assumed Kael was ordering a round for a table or a group.

“Sorry, I have to go.” I break away from the women and rush over to the woman who is trying to provoke me out of my mind.

I’m clearly far shittier at trying to comprehend anything going through this woman’s mind than I previously thought. First, she scorns my company, makes a production out of ignoring me, and then actively tries to draw my attention and annoyance by giving herself alcohol poisoning.

I get to her before she can take the last shot. I pluck the glass out of her fingers and toss it down my own throat, nearly gagging at the taste. Alcohol has never been my poison and even if it was, it wouldn’t be whiskey.

I whisk the tray out of her hands, return it to the bar, and try to grasp Kael’s arm to steer her outside so we can have another blow out conversation about whatever this is.

She wants to tell me that she hates me? Fine.

She can do that, but she doesn’t have to destroy her liver and risk blowing our cover in the process.

She sees me coming and dodges past my open hand easily. She shoots me a triumphant look and steps past me, moving quickly back over to the pinball machines, but I have a feeling she’s going for the exit and if she gets outside before me, she’s going to try and vanish.

Patterson’s is on the edge of Hart. This is the last stop before the road to Seattle starts and there’s not much of anything except open nature.

The thought of losing Kael in the trees, where she could get herself hopelessly turned around and confused, terrifies me.

I know that logically it couldn’t happen.

There’s a whole lot more noting than there is wooded areas down this stretch and she’d stumble out in some direction eventually, but anyone else could find her too.

She doesn’t even make it to the pinball machines before she sways, tripping over her own high heeled boots.

I didn’t expect the whiskey to hit that fast, but I was obviously right about her tolerance and she just did seven fucking shots.

She’s lucky she’s not on the floor right now, drooling her way into a coma. That could still happen.

She rights herself, but the second time she sways, I’m there. I scoop her up, but I can’t resist the asshole urge to throw her over my shoulder and carry her out in the most undignified fashion.

Act like a brat, get treated like a brat.

Kael doesn’t cause a scene. She doesn’t beat my back or shoulders or scream at me to put her down.

“I fail to see what you’re trying to accomplish here.” It’s an epic fail when it comes to keeping the mystified anger out of my voice.

“Maybe I needed some liquid courage to be here. It’s a lot, you know.” Despite her shaky stumbling, her words aren’t slurred. Overly. They’re just slower than normal, like she’s putting work into forming them properly.

“Was seven shots of whiskey enough?”

“I have a name for you. What about Insufferable Dick? As long as it has the word dick in there, everyone should be satisfied. Those two women should be.”

Holy. Shit. Is she jealous ?

My head is spinning by the time I push through large wooden doors and steer us out into the dusky night.

The sky is a thin veil of blue, transparent fabric over the darker ink that’s creeping up.

The faint outline of the moon is lonely up there in the distance, just a sliver before the stars make their appearance.

Kael waits until we have some semblance of privacy, then swivels herself further over my shoulder, slinking down like a slippery snake, and grabs two handfuls of my ass, digging her nails in, pinching and pulling so hard that I nearly drop her as fiery pain shoots up my spine.

She laughs wickedly, and when I whip her back upright and set her on her feet, she laughs harder, until she hiccups.

For the love of fucking fuck.

She studies me, eyes swimming in their sockets, but also blazing. Her face is so far from a mask, her walls down, but she’s such a mix of fury, sorrow, and passion that I can’t fathom what the hell is even going on in her head. I have no idea what she wants from me.

Until she surges forward, grasps my shoulder in a punishing grip, locks her other arm around my neck so that my head slumps forward with the shock and her rough burst of strength, slams her body against mine, and mashes our lips together.