Twelve
Colin
The ride back to the clubhouse was distinctly less enjoyable. There was the tug of worry in his gut, and there was the stiffness in Jenny’s arms around his waist. He could feel the tension in her, knew it wasn’t just the vibration of the bike but a trembling in her body. She’d wanted him – there was no doubting that – but now she was shaken, and he didn’t know if that was about whatever awaited them at home…or what they’d just done.
Huh. So he was calling it home now.
Candy and Jinx stood side-by-side in the parking lot, waiting for them. Jenny scrambled off the bike the second it was parked with a fast, “Thanks for the ride.” She went inside without looking back.
Colin sighed and unclipped his helmet as his two new brothers – superiors, whatever – advanced.
“She have a nice time?” Candy asked. His expression was pleasant, save for his eyes. Those were the color of frost.
Colin met his stare without shrinking. Fuck you, he thought. She’s a grown-ass woman and I’m not backing off unless she tells me. He nodded. “Yeah. She did. Said she loves riding.”
Candy twitched a chilly grin. “Yeah. She does.”
Jinx cleared his throat loudly. “So…”
“So,” Colin echoed. “What’s the situation?”
Candy grinned for real, some of his usual sparkle returning. “How’d you like to grab a drink, prospect?”
~*~
“Does Swayze work here?” Colin asked as the three of them slid into a wood-walled booth.
“Don’t speak ill of the dead,” Jinx said, seriously.
“Didn’t think I was.”
The Armadillo was a true Texas roadhouse in the old fashioned sense. Wood paneling, low lighting, hardwood floors dusted with peanut shells. It was a big, sprawling place, with two stages, a long bar that ran the length of the back wall, and plenty of booths in shady corners. Candy had picked a spot with a view of the girls in cutoffs grinding against one another on the dance floor, with a single dim lamp overhead, and high booth walls to keep out prying eyes and ears.
Colin leaned his head back and spotted several taxidermy armadillos on the wall, a few lassos and old saddles. Damn. He sure wasn’t in N’awlins anymore.
“Hey, fellas,” a brunette waitress in cutoffs and a halter top drawled as she sashayed up to their table. She laid down cocktail coasters with expertise, flashing lots of cleavage in the process. “What can I getcha tonight?”
Candy gave her a wide grin. “Whiskey rocks all around, darlin’.”
She smiled. “You got it.”
She made a show of walking to the bar, twitching her hips all the way.
“Nice girls here,” Candy said, leaning into Colin until their shoulders touched. “You know. If you’re needing to scratch an itch.”
Colin turned a disbelieving look on him.
Candy’s grin widened.
“Yeah…good to know.” Inwardly, he was thinking no flighty waitress could compare to Jenny’s aloof charm. He was also thinking Candy was trying to fuck him over somehow. Was this some kind of test?
The way the circular booth was situated, it was hard to see anyone approach. Suddenly, there were three men standing across from them.
Colin didn’t jump, but he wanted to.
Candy clapped his hands together. “Boys. Welcome.”
Colin darted a glance sideways, couldn’t meet Candy’s eyes and instead locked gazes with Jinx. The bearded member nodded, gaze serious. This was a game. Colin needed to play it cool.
His insides clenched and he nodded back.
All three men were dressed similarly in a casual cowboy getup: Wranglers, flannel shirts, tooled belts. Their boots were low key, with round toes and heavy soles. The one in the center wore a CAT trucker cap.
CAT braced a hand on the table and leaned toward Candy. “I need to talk to you.”
Candy gestured eloquently to all the empty space at their booth. “Take a seat. I got a drink coming and I intend to enjoy it.”
Colin then found himself between Candy and the guy in the blue flannel who stank of old sweat. CAT and the other guy piled in beside Jinx.
“So how you been, Cooper? How’s the little missus?”
“She left me,” CAT – Cooper – said in a flat voice. “For my brother.”
“Ha!” Candy laughed, one of those hearty, explosive laughs big guys could always get away with. “Sorry to hear it,” he said, still chuckling. “That’s women for ya.”
Cooper gave him a dark stare.
The waitress returned, all wiggly and flirty, setting their drinks down with much bending and chest-thrusting.
“How about a round for our friends, sweetheart?” Candy requested.
“You got it.” She gave him a wink and hurried off.
“See you’re still rolling with the same crew,” Candy said, turning back to their visitors. “How’s it feel to have your fearless leader back?”
The man beside Colin shifted; Colin felt his thigh brush up against his own, gritted his teeth and fought the urge to shove the bastard sideways out of the booth.
Cooper’s frown deepened. “Riley’s nobody’s leader.”
Colin’s turn to get tense. Riley, as in Agent Riley who’d been giving Jenny hassle?
“Ah, Coop,” Candy said, grin turning evil, “ain’t nobody alive who believes that shit. You’re Riley’s little organ grinder monkey.”
“Hey,” he guy next to Colin spoke up.
Colin turned and gave him a stare that quickly shut him up.
Candy released a low, pleased laugh and knocked Colin on the shoulder. “Good boy. Alright, Cooper, let’s not play games. I could sit here all night insulting you, and it’d be fun as hell, but I don’t have time for that. Where’s Riley?”
Cooper’s expression turned smug. He was the one with the upper hand here, or at least he thought so. “What’s it to you? You took his patches. You don’t have any business with him.”
Another sharp grin. “Yeah, except his brother went by Gabe’s and tried to scare the hell out of my sister. Patches or not, I’m responsible for Jen, which means I get to keep tabs on Riley.”
Questions. So many questions swirling through Colin’s head.
“So I’ll ask again,” Candy went on, “where’s Riley?”
Cooper shrugged and looked disinterested. “He’s laying low. Trust me, he don’t want shit to do with your bitch sister anymore.”
Candy slapped the table, and the sound of his big palm hitting the wood was like a gunshot. “Say something like that again,” he said, calmly, “and they’ll be picking pieces of you out of the jukebox for the next week.”
Colin got another thigh-bump from the guy beside him and bumped back, hard, lowering one of his own large fists to the table so the man could get a good look at it. “Don’t fuck with me,” he said through his teeth, just a hiss. “I’ll lay you out.” And then he’d move onto Cooper for calling Jenny a bitch. He’d used that word all his life, thrown it around like it was weightless. But attach it to Jenny? He wanted to stomp on throats.
He caught the quick, sideways glance Candy shot him and thought it held approval. Then the VP turned back to Cooper. “I ain’t gonna go round and round with you jackasses. So you can take this message and deliver it. If Riley steps one foot onto my property, or into Gabe’s restaurant, he’s a dead man.”
People delivered threats all the time, usually with fake bravado and cheesy sincerity. Not so with Candy. Colin actually had a little chill pass through his limbs.
Silent, Cooper slid out of the booth and his two boys followed.
The waitress arrived as they were departing, frown crimping her pretty penciled-on brows together. “Oh…” she said.
“You can leave the drinks, darlin’, and we’ll take care of them,” Candy assured her.
“Okay.” Another setting-down of glasses that might as well have been a stripper audition.
When she was gone, Colin twisted around to fully face his VP and said, “Okay, what in the fuck is going on?” Before Candy could feed him some line, he went on: “I’ve been watching Jen, and worrying about her, and Candy, bro, she isn’t right. There’s something dark stirring around in her head. And you won’t say, and she won’t say. And what the hell was all that just now? ‘Cause I’m ready to start busting heads, and I need to know where to start.”
Candy looked pleased and amused. “You done?”
“For now.” Shit, he was breathing hard he was so pissed off, hands curled tight into fists.
Candy nodded. “Right. Well, Jen’s ex-husband just got outta jail, and he’s an asshole in the worst way. I’ve got a bad feeling he’s gonna try to fuck with her, and with us. He hates me ‘cause I stripped his patches. Well.” He tipped his head. “The club did. But mostly me. I stripped a lotta patches,” he said, giving Colin a level look. “I’m a patch-stripper. You try to fuck us over, you’re lucky if you get away with blacked out tats and your life intact. Damn lucky. Understand?”
Colin was reeling. Ex-husband? What the hell was this about patch stripping? But he nodded, firming his face up into a stone mask. “Yeah.”
“If you’re loyal to the club, and you’re good to Jen, you and me won’t have a problem. But fuck me over…fuck her over…”
“I get it.”
“Good.” Candy reached for one of the fresh drinks the waitress had left and downed it in a single gulp, the ice clinking against the sides of the glass. In a more honest voice, gasping a little from the whiskey, he said, “I had to clean out this club when I came home seven years ago. I need big guys, strong guys, decent guys. And right now, I’m counting on you to show me that you’re a Lécuyer, and not whatever you call yourself now.”
Colin felt his jaw get tight. “Why does everybody think Felix is so great?”
“Because he is. It’s time to bury your bullshit hurt feelings and take a lesson from him.”
~*~
Jenny
She couldn’t stop shaking. She’d downed an entire water glass of merlot and still her arms and legs were trembling.
Jenny sat in the sanctuary at the clubhouse, in her brother’s recliner, a sitcom she wasn’t paying attention to rattling away on the TV. She’d showered and pulled on yoga pants and a comfy tank. Had attempted to read for a little while. But nothing worked – she was wired.
Colin.
Oh my God. Colin.
If she was totally honest with herself, she had to admit it: he was magnificent. Physically, anyway. All alone with her thoughts and the lingering sensations, she could admit that she’d loved everything about the sheer size, strength, and masculine presence of him. He was a man. He’d kissed hard, his hands had known what they were doing, and she’d felt the evidence of more size through his jeans.
But she didn’t need someone like him. Someone young and stupid and trying to prove himself. She’d had that once…and it had put her in the hospital.
“You know I won’t hurt you, right?” His words echoed in her mind.
But what loyalty would a relative stranger have? What would keep his large hands from blacking her eyes…when the man she’d said vows to had violated her so deeply?
The worst part was, she couldn’t shake off the clinging heat of desire. Damn her, but she wanted to take things further, wanted Colin to come back to her.
But Candy had taken him to The Armadillo. And that was nothing but temptation in cutoffs down there.
She filled her glass again and drank deep.
~*~
Colin
The evening dragged. Once their adversaries were away, Colin wanted to head back to the clubhouse.
Instead, Candy and Jinx ordered a whole big barbecue spread and invited a few of the off-duty waitresses to join them at their table. A slender brunette who looked alarmingly like Mercy’s wife slid in beside Colin and put a too-familiar hand on his thigh. Okay, she might look like Ava Lécuyer, but that was where the similarities ended, apparently.
“Hey, Daddy,” she said. “You look lonesome.”
She couldn’t have said something worse if she’d tried.
He picked up her hand and set it aside, “Do me a favor and don’t call me ‘Daddy.’” Maybe she didn’t have daddy issues…but he did.
Her smile dimmed. “What?”
Colin turned to Candy who had a waitress of his own to contend with. “When are we headed back?” he asked, not caring it if was impertinent. Screw him, but he sucked at being a prospect.
Candy gave him the slow glance-over. “You in a hurry, prospect?”
How to answer that? “I just don’t give a shit about being here is all.”
Candy’s gaze sharpened. The girl at his side, running her hand down his bicep and oohing and ahhing? Not even remotely distracting. Whatever plans he had with these tarts, it wasn’t anything he gave a shit about, judging by the dark hooded nature of his eyes.
“Nothing here that catches your eye?” he asked, voice anything but innocent.
Colin felt his shoulders lock back, ready for a fight of any variety. “No. Nothing.”
Candy grinned, darkly. “You think I’m just gonna give you the green light?”
Colin didn’t answer.
Candy laughed. “Cool your fucking heels, man.”
Time limped forward, drink after drink landing on their table, the waitresses swapping off as their breaks ended and those of others began. The dance floor writhed with humanity, mostly girls dancing with girls, but a few brave cowboys venturing into the center so they could be rubbed against.
Colin thought he’d grind his teeth down to nubs with impatience. Which would have been a shame, because he had nice teeth.
They left just before closing, two waitresses given invitations to come to the next club party. Colin felt no joy in the return ride, the cold night air slapping at his face, bugs splattering against his goggles.
The clubhouse was all quiet when they got in. Candy and Jinx shuffled off with muttered goodnights. Alone, Colin went to the bar and poured himself a generous Scotch, parked himself on a stool to nurse it.
He’d been sitting and sipping about two minutes when he heard a door open and close, somewhere deep in the clubhouse. A moment later, Jenny entered the common room, and his pulse tripped and went wild.
She’d tied her hair back and traded her usual cowgirl work getup for black yoga pants, a tank top, and flip-flops. The tank top was dark, but he noticed with a little thrill that she wasn’t wearing a bra beneath it, the natural shapes of her breasts drawing his eyes.
She paused in the doorway like she hadn’t been expecting to see him. Her eyes widened just before she shielded them with a careful blankness. “So the Armadillo,” she said, stepping behind the bar and going for a bottle of red wine.
“The Armadillo,” he repeated, watching her fill a glass nearly to the top.
“Did you enjoy the T&A parade?”
“Not really.”
She snorted.
“Would you care if I did?”
“No.” Which meant hell yes.
He suppressed a sudden laugh. “Jenny.”
“I wouldn’t,” she insisted, one hand on her hip, the other tipping back her glass. She swallowed the wine down like it was water. Three long gulps and then she fixed him with a hard stare over the glass.
Smiling, he said, “I think you’d care a whole lot after what happened today.”
She swallowed, muscles in her throat rippling. “Remember what I said about it being a mistake?” she asked, but there was no bite to her voice.
“Remember how bad you wanted it?”
Her eyes flicked away, but she didn’t deny the accusation. Yes, she’d wanted it. Hopefully, she still did. But with a bar between them, he didn’t see the moment transforming to something heated anytime soon.
So he said, “What’s going on with your ex-husband?”
Her eyes came back to him, full of hurt, of betrayal. “Candy told you?” No doubt there was going to a nasty brother-sister argument to follow.
He nodded. “Yeah. He was asking some guys about him tonight.” Softly, he added, “I didn’t know you used to be married.”
“Wish I hadn’t been,” she said bitterly, and drained her glass. She gave him a challenging look. “Does that change your opinion of me?”
“Not even a little. But I’ve got questions. What happened?” In his mind, he added, How badly did he hurt you?
“Why do you think you’re entitled to know that, as a prospect?”
“I’m not asking as a prospect,” he returned. “Just as a man.”
“A man who wants to get me naked,” she said, but without aggression. The hunger had come back into her eyes.
“You can’t tell me you got any use for a man who looks at you and doesn’t wanna get you naked.”
A slow smile transformed her face, made her look younger and less tired. “Well…I can’t argue with that.” She took a deep breath and let it back out again. Her expression told him she’d decided something. “Fix yourself another drink, prospect, and come with me.”
He tipped the Macallan bottle over his glass and nodded. “Alright. But only if you stop calling me ‘prospect.’”
“Fine. Colin.”