by Staci Hart
She glared right back. None of those assholes could handle getting their asses beat by a chick. Ever.
Her engine hit the sweet spot, and she smiled as she shifted to fourth and pulled away, speeding under the light just as she redlined. Her heart cranked, and her hands were numb from adrenaline as she downshifted, then again, then pulled over at the meet spot a block from the finish.
Kat killed the engine and sat back in her black leather seat. She ran her hands over her steering wheel, content for the first time in over a month. It felt like it had been forever since she’d raced.
She popped open her door and stepped out of her car, trailing her fingertips down the length of shiny metal as her combat boots thumped on the pavement. Oh, Sheila. Her car was her baby.
The Goatee stepped out of his car, slammed the door, and marched toward her, red faced. “No fucking way. No way some bitch just beat me.” He stopped a few feet away from her and pointed at her. “You don’t have any business being here.”
Kat folded her arms across her chest, and a cynical smile passed her lips. It was the same bullshit, every time. “Don’t I? Seems I have plenty of business here. But, what did you want? An apology?” She shifted her hips, and her long legs in black skinnies formed a brazen ‘v.’ “Fine. I’m sorry that you’re a misogynistic fuckface who wildly underestimated my skills and equipment. Both of which are clearly superior to your own.”
His lip curled. “Fuck you, bitch.”
“In your dreams, asshole. You can go fuck yourself. It’ll be just like a regular Saturday night for you.”
The small crowd watching them argue broke out laughing, and the promoter, Charlie, stepped forward with an envelope. He handed it to Kat. “Damn, girl. I have to admit, I didn’t expect that.” He rubbed the back of his neck when he saw Kat’s eyes dart over to The Goatee. “Don’t mind him. He thinks he’s hot shit.”
“Nothing I’m not used to.” She chuckled and took the envelope. “Thanks, Charlie. Keep me in the loop on races, okay?”
“Sure thing, Kat.”
She headed back to her car as The Goatee shouted insults at her. Kat flipped her long, black hair and swung her hips a little wider as she walked away, turning to waggle her fingers at him before she got in the car, laughing as she watched him go berserk.
When she turned the keys in the ignition, Sheila came to life, and as Kat’s heart slowed down, it flashed with guilt. She shouldn’t have raced. It was a stupid thing to do.
But I’m so glad I did.
She smiled as she peeled out and flew down the street, away from her high and back to reality.
Dillon parked in front of MacLennan’s and stepped out of the car. The green and gold pub sign with a small four-leaf clover next to the name hung over the door, a familiar site even though they hadn’t been there in forever, since Brian liked to tour Brooklyn’s Irish pub circuit, to ‘keep it fresh.’ Dillon walked up to the door with his hands shoved in the pockets of his leather jacket and his grey hoodie hanging out of the neck with Owen behind him, collar flipped against the cold.
Dillon hated after parties. He was always wiped out after the adrenaline of a fight had burned down, and he didn’t drink, since drinking made him too unpredictable. He’d much prefer to be at home, but there was no way around showing up. He’d tried. But the bigger he got, the more people expected to see him outside the ring. Brian said it was all about PR. If the people who bet on him got to hang out with him afterward, they’d be more likely to bet on him again. The attention was too much, though. He was honored that so many people wanted to wish him well, but the whole ordeal exhausted him.
He grabbed the brass handle to the pub door and gave Owen a look before pulling it open. The sound of music and people hit him like a wave, and once the crowd saw him, they exploded into cheers. He smiled and ran a hand through his hair as the crowd parted, and Brian stepped through to greet him smiling.
“Took you long enough. Come on. This way.” Brian turned, and the crowd opened up to let him through. They called Dillon’s name, and some slapped him on the back. A few tried to hand him drinks, which he graciously turned down as he followed Brian to the bar with Owen in his wake.
They reached the long counter, all mahogany and brass, and the minute he sat down, a small pack of girls led by a bleached blond pushed their way in next to him.
“Hey, Dillon. Congrats on the fight.” The blond’s glossy lips turned up in a smile, and she batted her mascara heavy lashes at him. She squeezed in close and laid her hand on his forearm.
“Thanks, Jessica.” He pulled his arm out from under her hand and turned to Owen.
She poked out her lip for a split second, then pasted her smile back on and tried again. Her arm pressed against his as she leaned over the bar and shoved her breasts together. “So, you gonna buy a girl a drink?”
Dillon’s gaze swept over the cleavage spilling out of her low-cut top, and he rolled his eyes. “You should ask Brian. He’s in charge of rounds.”
Her lip popped out again, and her cheeks flushed. A brunette next to her gave her a nudge and whispered something in her ear.
Jessica put on a seductive smile and slipped her hand down to his thigh. “Come on, Dillon.” Her words were sugary sweet. “For old time’s sake?”
Dillon looked her over again, his jaw set. “There weren’t ever any ‘old times.’” He spun away from her in his stool and jerked his chin at Brian. “Hey, Bri. Jessica wants a drink. Can you help her out with that?”
Brian snickered. “Yeah, come on, Jess. The bartender’s down here. What are you drinking?” He draped his arm over her shoulders and steered her away, though she looked over her shoulder at Dillon, blowing him up with her eyes with her cronies on her heel.
Owen laughed and shook his head. “God, she never quits.”
“If I had known she was crazy, I never would have hooked up with her.”
“She’s not just crazy, she’s the queen of the asylum.” Owen leaned over the bar. “Damn, what does it take to get a drink around here?” Owen flagged a hand behind the bar.
A girl was bent down in front of an open cooler, her face hidden by a sheet of long, black hair, and when she stood up and turned to face him, all the breath left Dillon’s lungs.
His eyes met hers, intense and gray-green, lined with thick, black lashes, tracing the bridge of her long nose, over the tiny freckles sprinkled across it and onto her flushed apple cheeks. Her rosy lips were full and parted, and his gaze lingered before pulling back to her eyes, snapping to them like magnets. The noise in the bar was almost deafening, but Kat and Dillon were still and quiet, two unmoving points in an ocean of people.
Dillon shook himself, and she did the same. She turned to Owen with a smile, clearly trying to collect herself. “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear what you ordered.”
Owen cocked a smile, his eyes on his brother as he answered, “Guinness. Thanks.”
“And for you?” Her voice was smoke and fire as she turned to Dillon again. He swallowed hard.
“Just water,” he said, his eyes fixed on hers.
“Sure.” She turned to walk to the taps, glancing over her shoulder once.
Dillon blinked a few times, and his brow dropped when he saw that Owen was watching him with a sly smile. “What?”
“Nothing.” Owen smirked and turned back to the bartender.
She came back a moment later and set their drinks down. Owen pulled out his wallet, but she put her hands up. “This goes on Brian’s tab.”
Owen snorted. “Right, Brian’s tab. Hey, what’s your name?”
Dillon couldn’t take his eyes off of her. Confidence waved off of her as she answered Owen, but her eyes were on Dillon. “I’m Kat.”
“Hi, Kat. I’m Owen, and this here,” he slapped Dillon on the shoulder, “is Dillon, my big brother.”
“Yeah, I heard. Brian’s been talking you up for the last hour.” She cracked a smile, and Dillon’s heart beat a little faster. Someone shouted to her f
rom the other end of the bar. “Nice to meet you,” she said casually and turned to the mob.
Kat blinked a few times as she walked away. For a second, she had been completely connected to him, his eyes holding her captive like a snake charmer. She couldn’t look away. Her brows knit together while she poured a drink, trying to understand what happened. When she glanced back over at him, she found his eyes on her. His blond hair shone under the lights, and her eyes swept the line of his jaw, resting for a moment on his lips before moving back to his eyes. He looked at her fiercely, and she flushed, dropping her gaze back to the drink in front of her.
The swinging door to the back of the bar opened, and her sister, Kiki, walked out with her arms full of liquor bottles. A few patrons nearby cheered, and her bright smile flashed on her face as she winked and shimmied her shoulders. Kat rolled her eyes and reached to take a few bottles from her.
“Here, let me help you.” Kat grabbed some rum, and the sisters turned to stock the bar. Kiki’s long, black hair swung in a high ponytail, and the deep cut of her tight, black T-shirt made her neck look a mile long. Bartending meant selling it, and Kiki was an unparalleled expert.
“Is the boxer guy here yet?” Kiki craned her neck to look down the bar.
“Yeah, over there.” Kat jerked her chin toward the brothers. She shook her head when she saw Owen’s mouth hanging open as he got a good look at Kiki. She had that effect on guys.
Kiki looked over at the brothers with one dark eyebrow jacked. “Body shots.” She winked, her jade-green eye disappearing briefly behind a curtain of black lashes.
“Oh, god, Kiki,” Kat groaned.
Kiki picked up a bottle of tequila, a lime, and a shot glass. The crowd parted for her and cheered as she slinked by, knowing her plan. It wasn’t her first time at the rodeo, and it was always a good show.
Kat stayed behind the bar, following Kiki as she made her way through the crowd to the brothers, but Dillon hadn’t stopped staring at Kat, and with every step that closed the gap between them, the room faded away again.
Kiki came to a stop behind Dillon and tapped him on the shoulder. He blinked, breaking the spell hanging between them to look over his shoulder before swiveling to face Kiki.
“Congratulations on your win, Mr. Malloy. Complimentary body shot, just for you.” Kiki held up the bottle of tequila and gave it a little shake with her hand on her hip. She flashed him a mega-watt smile.
Dillon laughed, and it was a good laugh. “I don’t drink,” he said, “but my brother here does.” He clapped Owen on the shoulder, and Owen shook his head to clear it.
Kiki shifted her attention to Owen. As she looked him over, her face morphed from foxy to curious, her smile transforming from sultry to genuine.
“Well, then,” she said. “I didn’t catch your name?”
Owen blinked several times and straightened up, clearly trying to get his act back together. “Owen.”
“Well, Owen, I’m Kiki. Are you ready for this?”
“Not really.”
Kiki laughed and leaned between the brothers to pour the shot. Dillon backed out of her way, but Owen didn’t move. His face was just inches from her ear, and Kat could see that Kiki recognized the challenge — her body language screamed that she was very aware of his body so close to hers.
Kiki stood in front of him holding the shot, and every man’s eyes within twenty feet were on her as she stuck out her tongue, licked her thumb, and trailed the wet digit down her neck. She reached past Owen again, brushing against his chest. Her neck was stretched inches from his mouth as she reached into the salt tray and grabbed a pinch, then lifted her chin to spread it down the wet path. She backed away, her eyes on Owen’s, and laid the lime between her breasts.
She held the shot out to him and smiled in invitation.
Owen stood taller than Kat expected and took the drink from Kiki. His deep brown eyes held hers, lips inching into a smile as he took a step toward her.
He slipped his hand into the curve of her neck, his thumb in the hollow behind her ear, and lowered his lips to lick the line of salt, pausing to close his lips against her skin and suck when he reached the end. Her mouth hung open, lids fluttering, leaning against his hand like he was keeping her upright.
He broke away and knocked back the shot before turning his focus back on her. Kiki’s green eyes were wide as his hand skimmed down her back, and he leaned down, hovering over her breasts. His lips brushed her skin as he took the lime gently between his teeth, and a shiver racked through Kiki when she looked down at him.
The crowd of onlookers broke into whistles and cat-calls. Kiki’s cheeks flushed hard, and Owen looked quite pleased with himself as he sat back down at his stool to a few hearty slaps on the back. Kiki was rooted to the spot, lids heavy and lips parted.
Kat chuckled. She’d never seen Kiki get handled before and had to admit it was pretty funny to see her sister on the other side of that game.
A breeze stirred in the bar, and Kat thought she smelled roses. How strange, she thought as Kiki’s body shifted. Her chin dropped, and she straightened up, eyes on fire as she took three steps, grabbed Owen’s arm, and spun him around. She grabbed his stunned face and pressed her lips to his, and they kissed, though it looked more like she was claiming him. Her body melted into his — her back arched, his arms around her waist, hers around his neck. After a long, hot moment, she popped away and leaned in to his ear, whispering something before slinking away.
The crowd went crazy, screaming and whistling as Kiki walked around the bar and Owen sat like a lump on his stool.
Kat blinked, jaw on the bar. That was definitely not part of the usual act.
Everyone laughed, and even Kat couldn’t help herself when she finally found her. Dillon turned, laughing himself, and they shared a smile. Her stomach fluttered, and she turned to the busy bar to hide it, leaving part of her brain with Dillon as she fumbled through drink orders and tried to keep her head straight.
Owen turned in his stool with glassy eyes, and Dillon shook his head. “That was quite the display.”
“Hmmm?” Owen’s eyes were unfocused, his pupils dilated.
“You look like you’ve been shot through the heart. You need a cold shower?”
“Did that really just happen?” Owen said, half to himself.
“It did. I’ve never seen you get taken before. She practically ripped your shirt off.” Dillon took a drink and watched Owen drool in his seat.
“I’ve got to talk to her. I’ve got to get her number,” Owen mumbled.
Dillon’s voice dropped with his brow, and he set his water down. “Whoa, there. I don’t think you should pursue that. Owen, you get attached, and she’s not the kind of girl you want to get attached to.”
“How do you know?”
“Most girls don’t go around making out with random guys in bars. At least, not the kind of girls you want to take out for a steak dinner.” Dillon glanced over at the girl in question, her cheeks pink while she tended to the waiting patrons. He scoffed. “Trust me. I know her type.”
Owen scowled. “What’s your problem?”
Dillon scrubbed a hand over his face. “I’m tired, and I don’t want to be here. I think that chick’s a problem, and I think you need to leave her alone. She kissed you, so what?”
Owen looked hurt, which aggravated Dillon even more. Kat stood nearby. He called her name, and she turned to him, smiling.
Dillon barely saw it, and didn’t hear the hardness in his voice when he spoke. “Is that something she does often?”
Kat’s smile fell. “Unfortunately, yes. Though that show was a little … different than usual. She’s not usually so into it. I suspect it had something to do with your brother’s tongue.”
His eyes narrowed as he wondered if she was kidding. He couldn’t tell, and that pissed him off too. He was suddenly furious that Owen was into Kiki. “I’m pretty sure it had something to do with the lime in your friend’s cleavage,” he snapped.
He bristled. “Yeah, well, if you ask me, she was asking for it.”
“Hey—” Owen tried to interject.
“Asking for what?” Kat glared at him, and he sensed an opportunity to turn it around. An opportunity he was far too worked up to take.
“I’m just saying. Don’t act like Owen brought that on, because it seems to me like she asked for his face in her tits.”
“Jesus, guys—” Owen tried to jump in again, but Kat wouldn’t hear it.
Her hand hung on her hip, and her eyes lasered on Dillon’s. “What the fuck is your problem? Don’t roll in here and pick a fight with me for no fucking reason, asshole.”
His body tensed, his muscles straining, but he smiled and shook his head. “Wow, you’re a real gem. You know that?”
Kat leaned forward, smiling sweetly, and said cheerfully through her teeth. “Go fuck yourself.” She turned on her heel and sauntered away.
In the early hours of the morning, Kat sped through the streets of Brooklyn and pulled up to her garage, yawning while she waited for the door to open. She eased her car in and killed the engine, yawning again as she stepped out.
Kiki closed her door with a thump. “Stop yawning,” she said, her words stretched as she spoke through a yawn of her own. They walked out of the detached garage and into their garden, trudging past the low lights that lit the line of landscaping against the fence. Their father had spared no expense for them, even though Kat had asked him not to go to the trouble. He insisted, like usual. She had money of her own and always preferred to take care of herself, but her father was a control freak with too much cash, and spoiling his daughters was one of his favorite hobbies.
He bought them a four story, dual master brownstone in Brooklyn Heights, and he had decked it out. It was brand new, everything modern and expensive. He must have had a decorator put it together because their rooms were tailor made for both of them. Kiki’s was all high-end, hip, and a little girly while Kat’s was clean and simple. Everything in the place was perfect.
