Ropes

by Jack Davenport

  I watched as Kim gave Mack a very calculated smile and then threw herself against him, hugging him tightly. He gave her a quick squeeze and then his eyes met mine. I gasped, but couldn’t look away. He studied me for a few seconds and then headed down the stairs.

  * * *

  Mack

  Damn it!

  I walked back to my office deep in thought and royally pissed off. Stepping inside and closing the door, I dragged my hands through my hair and headed to the window, staring up at the VIP section. The woman with the pixie face had just set my world on end and I could not have that. “Fuck!”

  I picked up my desk phone and dialed the office.

  “Hey, Mack,” Eliza said.

  “Hey, babe. You got the scans from tonight?”

  “A few of ’em, yeah.”

  “Send me the ones for Darien Aherne and Millicent whatever her last name is.”

  “You got it, boss.”

  I hung up and sat behind my desk. I found my eyes drawn back to the VIP section and narrowed in on Darien. “Shit,” I whispered.

  Booker pushed into my office. “You met Kim’s friends, I take it.”

  I turned to scowl at my closest friend who stood in my doorway with a shit-eating grin. “Did you need something, Book?”

  “No, just wanted to see how you handled the introductions,” he observed.

  “Fine. Why?” I challenged, not liking my friend’s ability to read me.

  “Nothin’.” Booker laughed as he folded himself into the chair facing me. “But, I do see you got a couple of problems.”

  “Yeah?”

  Booker nodded. “One, you’re gonna get razzed for breaking the rule, especially considering you let Kimmie pull one over on you.”

  “Fuck you, Booker.”

  “Two...” Booker trailed off. “Nah.”

  “Two?” I prodded, but Booker just shrugged. I narrowed my eyes. “What’s two?”

  “Nothin’,” Booker said, and rose to his feet. “That one I’m gonna let play out.”

  I flipped him off.

  Booker laughed. “I’m gonna enjoy this. I’m gonna go talk to your woman, comin’?”

  “She’s not my woman.”

  “Sure ’bout that?” Booker retorted and walked out the door before I had a chance to respond.

  The ping of my email gave me something else to focus on, which meant a full background check on my pixie. I’d given my bouncers a heads-up to scan the IDs of Kim’s friends. I didn’t do it for everyone, but I was glad I did tonight.

  * * *

  Darien

  I stood by the railing sipping my margarita, which was amazing, and very, very strong, when a tall, dark-headed man crested the stairs and made his way directly to Dani. I assumed it must be Booker.

  She was facing me, laughing at something Kim was saying when he wrapped an arm around her waist and kissed her neck.

  “Ohmigod, Mack, not here!” she retorted.

  I felt my stomach roil. She was obviously giving her husband a hard time, but it did something to me that I didn’t like. Stupid, considering I’d only met Mack tonight, but there was something about him.

  Booker smacked her butt and frowned. “Not funny, Dani.”

  “It’s a little funny.” She slid her hand to his neck. “Will you behave so I can introduce you to Darien and Millie?”

  “Maybe.”

  Dani giggled and waved me and Millie closer. “This is my husband, Austin.”

  I smiled and shook his hand. He shook Millie’s as well with a nod. “Booker.”

  Dani rolled her eyes. “Okay, to me he’s Austin, to the rest of the world, he’s Booker.”

  “I’m gonna steal my woman for a minute,” he said.

  “We’re going to dance,” Kim declared.

  “I’ll be there in a bit,” Dani promised, and Kim gathered the rest of us up and led us downstairs.

  I followed the ladies onto the dance floor and lost myself in the music. I loved to dance and I’d had just enough alcohol to let myself go. I felt strong hands on my hips and startled, craning my head to find a gorgeous man with longish blond hair smiling at me. He moved his hips against my rear and I went with it. He wasn’t there for long and I turned to see him being escorted from the dance floor by one of the bouncers who let us in. I glanced at Millie who shrugged, so I did as well and moved closer to her again.

  Admittedly, I was a little bummed. He was cute. This thought brought to mind Mack and I realized pretty quickly I wished he was here grinding his body against mine. I shook off the thought and tried to focus on the music again.

  As we danced our asses off, I noticed an alarming trend. One that was starting to piss me off. I let it happen three times before I decided I’d had enough and followed the bouncer off the floor. He left my newest dance partner at the mouth of a hallway and walked away. I followed him through a door and into another hallway.

  “Hey!”

  The man turned, appearing a little surprised to see me, but then a slow smile crossed his face. “You need somethin’, babe?”

  “Yeah. I want to know why you’re dragging guys off the dance floor.”

  He chuckled, raising his hands as though to ward off a fight. “Not my call.”

  “Then whose call is it?”

  He closed the distance between us and crossed his arms over his gigantic chest. “Babe, I suggest you go back to your friends and enjoy the rest of your night.”

  I leaned back (way back, because he was tall) and snorted. “Oh yeah? And why’s that?”

  “’Cause there ain’t no way in hell you’re ever comin’ back here.”

  I gasped, stomping my foot in irritation. “Excuse me?”

  A low voice rumbled above the noise of the music. “Train.”

  I peeked around the giant and saw Mack walking towards us and he looked irritated. Train raised his hands again, gave me a slow smile, and walked away.

  “You’re the manager, right?” I asked, annoyed that my voice quivered like a love-struck teen.

  Mack raised one side of his mouth in what I think was a smile. “Sure, babe, we’ll go with that.”

  “I’d like to lodge a complaint.”

  The other side of his mouth tipped up. “A complaint.”

  “Yes. That man who just walked away has been very rude.”

  “How so?”

  “Every time I’d start dancing with someone, he’d yank him off the dance floor!”

  “Train did that?” he inquired.

  “Yes he did.” I huffed. “It’s unacceptable and I think you should talk to him about it. I mean, this is a dance club, right? We’re here to dance and drink and have a good time, right? If your sole purpose is to sell booze, then you can’t have one of your employees dragging away the customers! Those guys weren’t bugging me and they were good dancers. Do you know how hard it is to find guys who are willing to dance with you who can actually dance?”

  “Enlighten me.”

  “It’s hard!”

  “Anything else, sweetheart?”

  “Yes!” I was on a roll, so I didn’t process the endearment right away. “He told me I should have a good time because I was never going to be let back in! I don’t know what I could have possibly done to be banned, but I’ll tell you something, mister, I haven’t done anything to warrant being kicked out.” His face went from somewhat amused, to cold and lethal so quickly I shivered. Actually shivered, raising my hands to my arms in a protective stance. I instantly realized I may have gone too far. “Sorry. I don’t mean to be rude. Alcohol lowers my inhibitions and my polite meter.”

  “Fuck me,” he breathed out, but I could tell he was trying not to smile. “Polite meter?”

  I bit my lip. God, I was an idiot! “I’ll just go back to my friends.”

  I turned and made it about three steps before I heard, “Babe, wait.”

  His voice was so low, I thought I’d misheard him, but I turned and he hadn’t moved, his expression conflicted and his
eyes on my leg. “What the fuck is that?”

  I followed his gaze and frowned. The bruise from my fight with my patient peeked out from the bottom of my skirt. “Um...”

  Mack closed the distance between us and raised my skirt a little. “Did that happen here?”

  “No,” I answered immediately.

  He glanced at me. “Did someone fuckin’ hurt you, Darien?”

  He remembered my name? I couldn’t focus, considering his fingers were gently touching my leg.

  “Darien?”

  I licked my lips. “Huh?”

  “Did someone hurt you?”

  “Oh.” I shook my head. “No. It happened at work.”

  He frowned. “Someone hurt you at work?”

  “No!” I said a little more forcefully. “I whacked it on a piece of furniture.”

  “Babe, you need to fuckin’ tell me what happened.”

  Because I’m Dork Darien, and because he smelled so delicious, all I could think about was licking him (no joke), and I told him everything that happened at work.

  Mack stood with his arms crossed as I filled him in, but when I was done he sighed. “Fuck me.”

  “Now? ’Cause I don’t really know you,” I retorted.

  He stared at me for a second or two and then laughed. The sound made me shiver... in a really good way, and I couldn’t stop a smile.

  “Go back to your friends, sweetheart.”

  I nodded and high-tailed it out of the hallway and back into the club. I nearly slammed into Millie who grabbed my arm with a frown. “Where did you go?”

  “Nowhere, it’s fine,” I said.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yep, fine. Just went through the wrong door.” She studied me, but I was glad she let it go. “Are we dancing?”

  Millie shook her head. “Huh-uh, we’re back upstairs. Booker bought us drinks.”

  “Okay, cool.”

  I followed Millie back upstairs and tried to put my weird interaction with the sexiest man on the planet out of my head. Admittedly, I failed, but I fell back into my comfortable belief that a man like Mack would never want a woman like me. I was safe there.

  * * *

  If you liked what you read of D.W. Foxblood and her man, you can buy it HERE!

  Copyright © 2018 by Trixie Publishing

  All rights reserved.

  * * *

  My search is my singular focus.

  I don’t have time for distractions.

  Then she walks into my world without warning and I am suddenly lost.

  But I won’t yield.

  Not to her, not to anyone.

  However, I will have her, and I will have her despite her innocence.

  Sadie

  I HAVE BEEN told I look like Mila Kunis, and you’d think this was a good thing, but in my line of work, it’s more of a hindrance. You see, I’m a nun. Admittedly, I’m not a very good one, but nonetheless, I am, in fact, a nun.

  Which (in a very roundabout way) led me to a tiny, hole-in-the wall bar at the edge of the Pearl District in Portland, Oregon, on a quiet Wednesday night.

  I was supposed to be meeting my friend, Laura, for dinner, but as I stepped off the MAX, I realized I’d gotten off at the wrong stop and, as was my luck, the small wet sprinkle coming from the sky quickly turned into a downpour.

  “Well, crap!” I slapped a hand over my mouth and mumbled, “Sorry, Lord.”

  Seriously, I was the worst nun ever.

  Unsure of which street I was on, I took shelter under an awning next to a building with a frog motif, but no other identifying information. Frustrated, I fished my phone out of my purse and tried to figure out where I was. I had a missed call from Laura, and a new voicemail, which I could only guess meant she wouldn’t be able to make it.

  “Hey, lady. I’m so sorry, I’m stuck at work and I can’t get down to the Pearl for another hour. Do you still want me to try or do you want to reshedj?” Yes, she said, ‘reshedj.’ “Anyhoo, text me and let me know what you want to do. Love ya, ba-bye.”

  Laura Chan was my oldest friend. She was actually the only one who knew me before the nunnery, and therefore knew me as Sadie Ross, not Sister Abigail Eunice. Laura’s parents had moved from China, and into the house next door, the summer before second grade. She’d spoken very little English, but we still managed to communicate, and we roamed the neighborhood, inseparable until my parents’ death. I adored her, even though she wasn’t always reliable. Ever hopeful, however, I always gave people the benefit of the doubt, so here I stood, only slightly protected from the pouring rain. And it was pouring. I fired off a quick text to Laura, pressing send... just as my phone died.

  “Oh, holy mother of—” I pulled my sweater closer around me and stepped toward the building’s entrance so I could warm up and perhaps borrow a phone, but just as I moved away from the wall, something came loose from above, dropping a bucket’s worth of collected water on my head. I let out a quiet squeak and pulled off my now soaked veil, yanking open the heavy wooden door and slipping inside.

  “ID,” a gruff voice demanded.

  I nodded even though I couldn’t see anything in the dark space, reaching into my purse and pulling out my Oregon ID.

  A large hand swiped it from me then handed it back. “You look lost.”

  I let out a snort. “You have no idea. I’m stranded and my phone died.”

  “Ryder can call you a cab.”

  “Ryder?”

  “Owner.” He nodded toward the back of the building. “He’s at the bar.”

  “Do I really need to go to the bar?” I asked.

  “Lady, he’s got the number for the only cab company he trusts and if I let you leave in one from a company he doesn’t trust, he’ll be pissed.”

  I gave him a look of mock concern. “That sounds serious.”

  Bouncer dude chuckled. “Yeah, he’s got this weird thing about sweet women being protected.”

  “What about women who aren’t sweet?” I challenged.

  “Those too.” The bouncer laughed. “But the sweet ones always seem to get special treatment.”

  I smiled. “Okay, I’ll head to the bar.”

  “Good plan.”

  I walked past the pool tables, dartboards, and a jukebox playing something with a heavy drumbeat next to the bar, the counter of which ran the length of the building. There weren’t a whole lot of patrons, just a few who looked as though they paid weekly rent for their stools. However, I was surprised by the heart motifs hanging and taped up in a few key places. I guess it made sense... Valentine’s Day was tomorrow, so the bar was probably getting ready.

  A tall man with his back to me turned and I felt sucker punched. Like, as in, the breath left my body.

  His light-blue eyes met mine and seemed to peer into my soul. I froze, unable to take one more step under the weight of his scrutiny. He crossed his arms, keeping eye contact, and I was drawn into his tractor beam-like pull. I inched forward, one baby step at a time, taking in his light-blond hair, and a day’s scruff—not quite Portland hipster scruff, but still sexy-as-heck scruff. When my gaze landed on his lips he gave me this incredibly delicious sideways smirk, and Lord help me, I wanted him to kiss me.

  See? Worst nun ever.

  “You lost, Sister?”

  “How did you know I was a nun?” Without my veil, most people just threw pitiful glances at my clothes as though I didn’t know how to dress in anything fashionable. I wore a sturdy black wool dress, black tights, and a gray button-up cardigan.

  “Couple years of Catholic school. ’Course, I never saw a nun who looked like you, but it’s your shoes that give you away. It’s always the shoes.”

  “Oh.” I bit my lip, glancing at my feet. “Well, you got that right. They call them sensible... I call them ugly.”

  “Not touchin’ that one.” Ryder smiled. “You need directions?”

  I shook my head. “I’m that tale of woe, I’m afraid. My friend couldn’t make our dinner date and my
phone died.”

  “You need a cab? Or, I can get you an Uber.”

  “That would be sweet, but do you mind if I just warm up for a minute?”

  “You want some tea?”

  I couldn’t stop a huge smile of relief as I sat on one of the stools. “I would love some tea.”

  “Give me your phone and I’ll charge it for you.”

  “No, that’s okay.” I waved my hand dismissively. “I doubt you’ll have a charger that works.”

  He chuckled. “You’d be surprised.”

  I pulled out my six-year-old flip phone and slid it to him.

  “Right,” he said.

  “Solve that one,” I retorted with a giggle.

  “Oh, you don’t think I can?” He pulled open a drawer next to the cash register. After testing several cords against my phone, he let out a, “Gotcha!” and faced me again, plugging my phone into the wall. “Found one.”

  “How is that even possible?”

  He laughed. “We never throw anything away and people leave shi—ah, stuff here all the time.”

  I raised my hands and gave him a slow clap. “Well done, sir. Well done.”

  He grinned and handed me a cup of hot water and a couple of tea bags. I was pleasantly surprised to see he had my favorite licorice flavor and steeped it in the water while Ryder went about his business.

  “You look like you’re gearing up for Valentine’s Day,” I said, and sipped my tea.

  Ryder shook his head. “Not my choice.”

  “Aren’t you the owner?”

  He chuckled. “Doesn’t mean I’m not ruled by my patrons.”

  “Ah, so not a romantic, then.”

  “Just think men should show their women they love ’em every day... not wait for one day out of the year. The whole holiday is a farce, in my opinion.”

  I smiled. Maybe he was a romantic.

  As he freshened my hot water, I wondered what my fellow sisters would think about the predicament I’d gotten myself into. Granted, they rarely left the abbey, but they also didn’t have jobs like I did.

  Being a fourth-grade teacher and working for the Catholic school next to our living quarters was a perfect setup for me. Lately, however, I’d been feeling restless and I know Reverend Mother noticed. In fact, I had a meeting with her in the morning and it sounded serious, so being late or tired would not be an option. Perhaps my ill-fated evening was cut short for a very good reason. Mother always says God works in mysterious ways.