“Sweet cheeks?”
“Nope.”
“Huh. Then whatismy name?”
“Like, your legal name or what most people around here know you as?”
“Either works,” I tell her, and I hear Saint failing to hold in his laughter at the entire exchange.
“Well,” she begins, tapping her head like she has to think. “Your legal name is Roxanne Lynn Allen. And wha?—”
“Wait… Did you say Allen?” Seth’s face turns ashen.
“And what people around here know you as is Shuffle’s sister,” Rae finishes as if she hadn’t been interrupted.
“Aw, fuck, man,” Seth’s friend whines.
I smile sweetly at the two men. “Any other questions?”
Seth’s expression shifts in a split second, and rage enters his eyes. “You set me up.”
“Set you up? How the fuck did I do that?”
He looks from me to Saint. “This is some sort of test, right? It’s gotta be a test.”
“No test,” Saint replies. “But if it were…” He whistles. “Man, you failed miserably.”
Seth returns his attention to me. “You stupid bitch,” he seethes, grabbing my arm and yanking me toward him.
That’s all it takes for me to go from alcohol-induced confidence to terrified. I don’t get the chance to pull away or yell because Saint is across the bar so fast, knocking Seth to his ass.
“I’m gonna go get Shuffle,” Rae announces from behind me.
“You just fucked up in epic fashion,” Saint grunts between punches.
“I had nothing to do with it,” Seth’s friend insists.
The noise in the room fills my ears, and my limbs begin to shake. I’m transported back to my last night with Jace, and when my knees buckle and my vision darkens, I collapse on the floor.
CHAPTER 12
SCREAMER
There's only one woman who can get the job done.
Tuningout the music penetrating my bedroom walls, I strip out of my greasy clothes and stride into the en suite bathroom to shower. I put in another long day at the shop, longer than usual, and all I want to do is wash the grime from my body and have a few drinks before crashing.
As I let the hot water cascade over my head, my thoughts return to the same thing they have all week: Roxie. I’ve told myself time and time again that thinking about her, daydreaming about her, will only get me into trouble. But my brain doesn’t seem to give a shit.
Neither does your cock.
When an image of her flashes, I’m instantly hard. Doing my best to ignore my raging boner, I force myself to focus on getting clean, and before getting out to dry, I turn the water to cold and stand there for a few minutes and wait for my lust to wane.
It doesn’t happen, but I refuse to rub one out for the seventh day in a row.
Ten minutes later, I’m walking into the main area of the clubhouse, heading straight for the bar. There isn’t a party or anything tonight, so it’s mostly club members, Bangin’ Betties, and old ladies filling the room, and there are several prospects as well.
“Hey, brother,” Tracer greets when I slide onto the stool next to him.
