Kingdom Come

by Terri E. Laine

  “From Hans?” I said, feeling bad once again I couldn’t make it work with the man.

  “No.” He set the bouquet of assorted flowers in a variety of eye-popping colors on my desk.

  I plucked the card from the forked stick that held it.

  Roses are red

  Violets are blue

  All are pretty

  No more than you.

  See you tonight

  Griff

  Though I didn’t want to smile, I did. Anderson took the card from my hand and read it.

  “The hot Scot,” he said. “You totally need to screw him and tell me how it was.”

  “Slut,” I teased.

  Anderson was an equal opportunist when it came to bedmates. He didn’t discriminate based on anything. Male or female or anything on the rainbow spectrum.

  “You wish,” I added.

  “Damn straight, but apparently he’s sticking to that line.”

  “He’s just a friend,” I said, slipping the card back into the matching tiny envelope.

  “You’re missing an opportunity there. You two could be a power couple.”

  “Who kill each other. We’re too much alike.”

  “Not a good enough reason,” Anderson sing-songed.

  “We’re better friends.”

  “Coward,” he said and left the room.

  I thought maybe Anderson had given up until he came back in with another bouquet. This one was filled with a dozen perfect long-stem red roses.

  “Hans,” I said, sure of myself this time. This was more his style.

  “Ding, ding, ding. Give the girl a prize.”

  “I need to call him.”

  “You do, but not until after your meeting.”

  He moved both arrangements to a side table made of glass, which made it look as if they were floating.

  “Concealer,” Anderson added before leaving my office again—probably to greet the artist I was meeting.

  I did my best to dab some under my eyes before Anderson came in with my appointment.

  Running an art gallery wasn’t easy. My day was jammed with making future deals with artists and haggling vendors for my upcoming event. Which meant by the time I left for the day; I was exhausted. When I finally got home and took a long gaze in the mirror that was temporarily mine, I saw the weariness that weighed on me.

  I missed my best friend, who had absconded overseas for her protection, and I missed my brother in Chicago. I couldn’t call Bailey because of the time difference, so I called my brother.

  Because of his job, he rarely answered his personal phone because according to him, while he was undercover, he didn’t carry his personal phone. So when he said, “Hello,” I was surprised.

  “Matty,” I teased.

  “Hey,” he said, sounding cautious.

  “Is everything okay?” I asked in a panic.

  “It’s fine. You? B?”

  “I’m good. Bails is fine, last I spoke with her.”

  We both had our nicknames for Bailey.

  “Look, now’s not really a good time. Things are heating up.” That meant that the case was nearing its conclusion, which calmed me some. Though he’d told me that was also the point when an investigation became extremely dangerous. “I probably won’t be answering this phone for a while.”

  “What if I need you? Or something happens?”

  He sighed. “I’ll give you the other number, but you have to promise not to use it unless it’s an actual emergency.”

  He meant life or death, not fashion or missing him.

  “I promise,” I said.

  He rattled off a number that I wrote on a random menu I found in a kitchen drawer. “If you call or text, keep it short and simple. Don’t give details. I’ll figure out your message and get back to you.”

  My brother could take care of himself. He had been doing so since we were young. That didn’t take away my fear.

  “Be safe,” I said.

  But the call ended, and I couldn’t be sure if he’d heard me.

  While I heated up soup I’d bought from a vendor on the street, I whipped up a grilled cheese sandwich, the one thing in the world I could cook outside of a basic breakfast. While I ate, I emailed Bailey the details of tonight’s shenanigans. She’d get a kick out of hearing that I was going on a quasi-date with Griffin—and that I was looking forward to it. I needed the laughs he would bring.

  I dressed for the club, though I didn’t have a lot of options since my apartment was off-limits. Kalen had been willing to buy me a replacement wardrobe, but I couldn’t let him do that. I did let him buy some things, but mainly because I was pissed he’d put my bestie in danger from the man stalking her. It still didn’t leave a lot to choose from. Plus, I didn’t want Griffin to think I’d put a lot of effort into my choice of outfits, giving him false hope. For only a second, I wondered if I was making a mistake by not giving the big lug a chance.

  I ended up wearing jeans and a basic silk button-up top with a cami underneath. None of the clothing screamed luxury, which was important considering our destination. With my cash, card, and an ID in a mini wallet in my pocket and my phone in my hand, I caught an Uber back to Manhattan.

  Tucked on a side street, an unassuming door led into my favorite spot. My brother had been the one to find it back when we were in high school. He’d learned, then taught me the art of pool. Though he was far better than me, I could hold my own.

  I sidled up to the bar the owner stood behind.

  “Where’s Piper?” I asked.

  “Doesn’t work here anymore,” Kingsley said. The older man was black and beautiful, and I might have flirted with him if not for the shiny wedding ring on his finger.

  “That’s too bad.”

  “What are you having tonight? The usual?”

  I decided to switch things up and said, “Not tonight. Rum and coke, please.”

  He nodded and quickly poured it for me. I was just putting the cup to my lips when a man approached.

  “Hey, gorgeous.”

  Six

  Lizzy

  There was no denying that Griffin was a tall drink of cold water on a hot summer day. That was also apparent to every woman in the bar. They had taken notice—maybe because he didn’t look like a biker or blue-collar worker in his slick clothes that spoke money.

  “Hey, you,” I said.

  As he bent his head in an obvious move to kiss me, I turned my cheek so his mouth landed squarely there. When he pulled back, he said, “You’re killing me, darling.”

  I couldn’t help but love the Southern accent he injected into that last word.

  I gave him my best cheeky smile. “You’ll live.”

  The door opened, and the breeze it carried seemed to curl around my hand as if to grab my attention. The door was at my back, forcing me to glance over my shoulder to find the creator of every fantasy I’d had since the first time I’d seen him.

  He walked in defying all fashion rules in ripped white jeans and a matching wife beater covered by a black leather jacket, looking like an avenging angel.

  In my moment of distraction, Griffin leaned in to whisper in my ear, “Let’s get out of here.”

  When I turned back, our lips were only a whisper apart.

  I’d be hard pressed to choose which of the two men was better-looking. But the difference was the flutter in my belly I got around Striker that I hadn’t experienced with Griffin.

  I swallowed and pulled back some. “Don’t be silly. You just got here. And that cute brunette over there can’t stop grinning at you.”

  He glanced at the woman at the other end of the bar, farthest from the door.

  Kingsley approached and said, “The usual?”

  “Yes.” That one gruffly spoken word was confirmation it was the same man who had called me a princess the only other time I’d seen him.

  When had he become a regular? I’d come here a lot… before making things official with Hans. That had to be when he’d starte
d coming.

  Coming… that sparked something in me. Though I loved sex, I didn’t have many partners. Outside of my last relationship that had lasted some months, I hadn’t had an actual cock in me for far too long. I felt my dry spell cracking from Striker’s mere presence.

  “Let me take you to dinner.”

  It took me a second to blink away my thoughts and focus on Griffin, who’d just spoken to me. All the playfulness was gone from his face. In its place was a seriousness I’d never seen before on him.

  “I can make you happy,” he added.

  Before I could be pulled in the vortex that was Griffin, I took his arm. “Let’s go play.”

  My words apparently took him by surprise, and I tugged him toward a pool table a group of guys were vacating.

  When I met Griffin’s questioning gaze, I said, “You can play, can’t you?”

  Some of his teasing nature came back as he smiled. “What? Of course, we have pubs like this back home.”

  “Really?” I joked with an eyebrow raised.

  “Yes, with less American accents,” he said with a wink, his smirk back in full force.

  “Rack them up,” I said, purposely not looking at the bar area or the man who had my full attention even though he wasn’t in my line of sight.

  Why did Griff and I have to be so much alike? I’d accused him of only pursuing me because I was the one woman he had to chase. Was I any better? The man who’d plagued my every fantasy had made it clear he wasn’t interested in me and labeled me a princess. I’d been fascinated with him ever since.

  “Lizzy?” I glanced up and Griffin appeared as though he’d been speaking to me. He waved toward the pool table before slipping behind me and placing his hands on my hips. “You need some help?”

  I waited for the butterflies that didn’t come. Before I could make a snarky comment about him touching me, an “Excuse me” sent a shiver down my spine.

  The lack of enough space between tables forced Griffin to let me go as a body brushed against mine at the same time, and I took the break shot. The balls went wild, but none went into a pocket as expected. When I looked at Griffin, expecting a gleeful and teasing smile, I got a view of his pinched brows and a frown. Finally, he looked at me then at the table.

  He regained some bluster and said, “How about this? If I win, we leave.”

  I tilted my head and said, “And if I win, we stay.” I gave him a huge grin, trying to ignore what felt like heat at my back. I refused to look to see if Striker had eyes on me.

  Griff nodded, making the same mistake that had won my brother a lot of money when he used to come here. People would consider Matty a mark when really, they were. We were often underestimated. Yes, I’d lost my share of games and had blown this break shot. But unless Griffin was some kind of pool shark, I’d win in the end.

  Surprising me, Griffin sank several balls until his cue ball was in an impossible position to sink any of his balls without sinking one of mine. We traded smirks as I moved around the table to end the game. As I leaned down to make my first shot, I locked eyes with the most vivid pair of blues I’d ever seen. Shaken to the core, I was frozen in place by Striker’s penetrating gaze and unreadable expression.

  “Stop giving every guy in here a peek of your tits.”

  I glanced down and spotted my camisole gapping. I may have next to nothing for tits, but that didn’t mean I wanted to flash the bar. A flush crept up my neck. Ignoring both men and the embarrassment trying to take hold, I found enough concentration to take the shot. In went the ball, centering me again. I ran the board and smirked at Griffin when I sank the eight ball.

  “I win,” I said as Griffin came over. When he leaned in, I leaned back, leaving us in an awkward position with my butt resting on the table but holding myself at an angle as if I planned to lie back.

  “Looks like you need competition.”

  Griffin and I turned almost as one and faced the man capable of melting this ice queen.

  “She doesn’t need anything. We were just leaving,” Griffin said from behind me.

  I smiled sweetly at Striker. “Give me a minute.”

  Pivoting on my heels, I snagged Griff’s wrist and dragged him several feet away.

  “Remember why we’re here,” I scolded and waved over the brunette who hadn’t given up the possibility of snagging Griff’s attention. “Don’t ruin this for me.”

  Before he could speak, the brunette was there.

  “My friend, Griff, wants to buy you a drink.” I gave Griff a warning glare when he finally stopped looking in the other man’s direction.

  Griff turned to the beauty. “Yeah, sure, darling. What are you having?”

  And there it was. The magnetic charm that won over most women. If I’d been slightly attracted to Griff romantically, I’d be annoyed at his casual use of the word darling with any woman he spoke to. Luckily, I wasn’t, or I’d be broken-hearted already.

  When they headed to the bar, I spun and walked back to the man with the waiting smirk. His beat out Griff’s any day, sending a tingle straight to my core.

  When he turned, I was given a view of the tribal patterned tattoos on the backs of his arm he wore like badges of honor. When he faced me again, I focused on his dark, thick hair. Something a girl could hold on to when he fucked your brains out. But it was his face, too pretty but with a manly edgy, that caught me in his tangled web of self-assuredness.

  “Slumming again, princess?” So he remembered me. “I hope I didn’t interrupt something,” he said with a sly grin, belying his words.

  I gave as good as I got. “Only the smack-down I’m about to lay on you.”

  His lips twitched as he tried to hold back a grin. Talk about satisfying.

  “Why don’t you put a little wager on your words?” he asked.

  Never backing down from a challenge, I said, “What is it you want to play for?”

  A round of cheers, hand slaps, and leers came from the peanut gallery surrounding us. I hadn’t noticed anyone paying attention to our little transaction until then.

  I wasn’t worried. I could hold my own, as I’d proven with Griff.

  “Well?” I said.

  He glanced over me. Actually, a better description was that his eyes did a slow perusal of my body. I felt as much as saw his eyes taking me in. “You aren’t my type. I like women with curves.”

  There he was spoiling things by opening his gorgeous mouth and saying crap like that.

  “Who said I was offering?” I snapped, feeling the burn of rejection again. Apparently when I didn’t storm off as maybe I should have, I’d told him I liked being spurned.

  “Who said I wasn’t taking?” He leered at me with a smug smile. “Just because you’re not my type doesn’t mean I won’t sample.” He let his gaze drop down my body again. “How about your total submission for a day? Whatever I want.”

  “Again, who said I was offering?”

  He shrugged. “We don’t have to play.”

  His arrogance was the fire that made me want to bring him down a peg.

  “What do I get when I win?”

  “Sweetheart, that isn’t likely.”

  I huffed, shifting a hand to my hip. “There isn’t anything sweet or heartfelt about me.”

  He chuckled, and I ignored all the jeers around us.

  After licking his lips, he said, “What do you want if you win?”

  What did I want? “Same deal. Total submission for one day.”

  A chorus of hoots and more wisecracks followed.

  “Doesn’t sound like a hardship, princess.”

  “It might be if I walk you around New York with a dog collar around your neck.”

  Though I’d meant it as a joke to bring his ego to heel, I swore his eyes dilated a little. For moments, it was the two of us in a battle of wills. Screwing this guy until he was begging for my number was my new mission. And I didn’t care what people thought. I had to conquer him after he suggested I wasn’t good enough for him
.

  He leaned in and whispered, “Do you know what to do with a collar, princess? Because I do.”

  I swallowed, prepared to take it all back. I’d met my match, and it was time to concede.

  Only he straightened. “I’ll take the bet.”

  And it was too late. In for a penny and in for a pound.

  Pool was not only a game of skill, but a game of luck with the first break. How the balls landed could spell a win or a loss. My ace was his underestimation of me. But had I underestimated him?

  “Shall we?” he said and racked the balls.

  I pulled the stick I’d used during my game with Griff, then Striker took position.

  “This was your challenge,” he said before effortlessly hitting the cue ball and calling “Solids,” at the same time.

  We hadn’t set any rules, but when I saw the balls position perfectly for him to run the table, I said, “Fuck.”

  His only response was, “Precisely.”

  Seven

  Connor

  With practiced ease, I sank ball after ball until all the solids were gone, leaving just the perfectly positioned eight ball. The blonde’s sexy lips formed a rounded O—perfect for blow job penetration—as I hadn’t given her one chance. I’d run the table. I took the final shot, sinking the black ball and ending the game.

  I would have said something catchy to glorify my win, but Griffin came barreling over and snagged my prize by the arm.

  “We’re leaving,” he announced, and the crowd that had formed booed him.

  “Griff,” she admonished. “One second,” she said to me.

  They moved as far as they could from the bystanders and me, but Griffin was practically foaming at the mouth and he wasn’t careful not to be overheard. I was the closest to them, and those behind me continued to talk about my skill at dominating the game.

  Griff threw up his hands after the blonde jerked out of his hold. “So what? You won’t fuck me, but you’ll fuck a perfect stranger?”

  Her back was to me, but I saw her hand go up. Only he caught it before she could deal an open-handed slap. He said something that apparently hurt her, considering the slow way her hand moved back to her side. Whatever she said in response, I wasn’t privy to.