Shoot Out (The Baltimore Banners Book 7)

by Lisa B. Kamps

  No, not gravel. The lot was asphalt, but so torn up and rutted that he’d thought it was gravel at first. The car lurched and bounced over a deep pothole and he clenched his jaw at the sound of the undercarriage scraping against asphalt. He pulled into one of the empty spots and sat there, staring at the building in front of him, not quite sure what to say.

  He wasn’t a prude. Despite that damned nickname Derek had started, he wasn’t a prude. And he certainly wasn’t an innocent. Hell, he’d been to strip clubs before. Not many, and only because one teammate or the other had dragged him along. He didn’t have anything against them, they just weren’t really his style.

  And the one he was looking at now was on a different scale than the others he’d been to. He didn’t want to go so far as saying it was rundown but—yeah, not far from it. But maybe that was just what he could see from the outside, because the lot was half-full and it was still early. So yeah, maybe it wasn’t as bad as he thought.

  Yeah, sure it wasn’t.

  He tightened his grip around the steering wheel and tried to relax his jaw, tried to look calm when he was anything but. The thought of Nicole working here, of her prancing around on the stage in next-to-nothing while other men ogled her, touched her, shoved money at her… No, he was anything but calm on the inside. On the inside, he was seething. And that surprised him, because what he was feeling was jealousy.

  And how fucking crazy was that? What right did he have to be jealous? The woman seated next to him, looking as uncomfortable as he felt, was essentially a stranger. Yes, they’d had sex. One night. That was pretty much the definition of a one-night stand. He knew before taking her to his room, back in New Orleans, that it was only supposed to be for one night. He’d taken her back to his room for that sole intention. Nothing more. That had been his decision. The woman next to him owed him nothing, least of all an explanation for why she was working here. It wasn’t his place to judge.

  So why the hell was he feeling this irrational jealousy?

  He cleared his throat and glanced back at Nicole. “So. This is where you work?”

  She turned to face him. And even though he couldn’t see her eyes, he could feel her gaze, knew that she was watching him, studying him. Waiting for him to pass judgment? Waiting for him to say something? Mat wasn’t sure, but he felt like he was being tested.

  A few long minutes went by, weighted with silence. Nicole finally nodded and looked away, her shoulders sagging just a bit.

  “Yeah. This is where I work.”

  Chapter Five

  Nicole couldn’t believe she’d told him where she worked. No, not told him. Showed him.

  She should have never told him. She should have insisted he drop off her up the street instead. No, take that back. She should have never gotten in the car with him. But she had been so rattled, so upset and pissed and angry when Donnie pulled up to the curb, that she hadn’t been thinking clearly. All she wanted was to get away, to escape. And when Mat had pulled up, had called her name, she had homed in on him and grasped at the chance to escape, not stopping to think about anything else.

  She certainly hadn’t expected him to offer to drive her to work.

  When they had pulled up to the club, when she had told him this was where she worked, Nicole had expected him to…well, she wasn’t sure what she had expected, not really. Maybe make a comment about her virtue, or a snide offer, or something similar. Or to get that look on his face, the one she’d seen on so many others. Like she was cheap or worthless or beneath him. But Mat had done none of that. No, she hadn’t missed the way his hands clenched the steering wheel, just for a split-second. And she still wasn’t sure what to make of that, what he’d been trying to do.

  And he had beautiful hands. Large, muscular and well-defined, with long fingers and neatly trimmed nails. She would love to photograph those hands, in black and white, to capture their strength, their masculinity…their tenderness. Because yeah, despite the strength in his hands—in him—he was tender. Surprisingly tender. And when she remembered how those hands felt against her skin, what he could do with those hands—

  “Shit.” Nicole jumped back, just missing being soaked with the soda overflowing the glass she was filling. She shook her head and grabbed a rag from the sink, quickly mopping up the spill. She could feel eyes on her, and not just any eyes. His eyes. Dark green, deep, seeing too much.

  And oh God, why had she agreed to let him pick her up? She should have said no, should have never given in. But Mat had looked genuinely concerned when he asked her how she was going to get home. Genuinely horrified when she told him she sometimes walked if she couldn’t get a ride with one of the other girls.

  And then he had had offered to pick her up. Not offered—insisted. Like he really cared. Which was ridiculous. He couldn’t care. He didn’t know her. And even if he did, guys like him didn’t care for girls like her. They’d had one night together, a night that she held close to her, thinking she could pull the memory out and savor it whenever she needed. It was only meant to be one night, no matter what kind of silly fantasy she might spin of it.

  But here he was.

  Nicole rinsed the rag then twisted it, watching the dirty water run out in a small stream before slowing to a drip. She kept twisting it, squeezing even tighter, like she could ring out all her frustrations and worries and doubts at the same time.

  Mat had shown up, just like he said he would. She shouldn’t be surprised but she was. Part of her wished he was like every other man in her life, full of empty promises and empty words, saying one thing with no intention of ever following through. But he was here, and just his presence was enough to fluster her.

  He’d shown up not quite an hour ago and walked straight to the bar, taking a seat away from everyone else. And he had grinned at her, a charming boyish grin that made her stomach twist and twirl like it did before the first big drop of a roller coaster. It was the same grin he’d had on his face when they met in New Orleans. Not a full smile, but more than just a lifting of the corners of his mouth. And it was real, reflecting in the depths of those gorgeous eyes of his, like the green was lit from within.

  But what surprised her most, more than the fact that he had actually shown up like he said he would, was that he didn’t seem to be paying any attention to the other girls. They’d zeroed in on him as soon as he walked through the door. How could they not? He was wearing nothing more than faded jeans and a polo shirt but he still stood out among the normal patrons. There was something about him besides his athletic build and good looks, his arresting eyes and charming smile. Some kind of presence, an aura or something that set him apart from everyone else. So yeah, a few of the girls had headed right over to him. But he just smiled and shook his head, not quite looking at them even though they were directly in his line of vision. And Nicole swore she saw him blush, just the tiniest bit. Almost like he was embarrassed.

  Or maybe it was just a reflection of the neon. Or her imagination. Or wishful thinking.

  And oh God, she was in so much trouble. She should have left work early, just so she wouldn’t be here when he got here. But how could she do that? Especially when she hadn’t expected him to show up. And now he was here, waiting for her shift to end so he could drive her home.

  “Nikki!”

  She jumped at the sound of her name and turned around, the dishrag still clenched in her fists. Tony Williams, her boss, was standing at the edge of the bar, his lined face puckered even more with a frown as he watched her. His pale gaze lowered to her twisting hands then back to meet her eyes. She tossed the rag into the sink behind her then gripped her hands together, suddenly wishing the stupid short-shorts she was wearing had pockets. No such luck, not with the skin-tight black spandex cut so high that her ass was hanging out.

  Tony’s eyes darted toward Mat then back at her. He motioned her over with a quick jerk of his head, the scowl never leaving his face. Six months ago, that expression would have scared her, but not now. Tony might look int
imidating as hell but he was nothing more than a big teddy bear. And he’d taken a chance on her, hiring her as a barmaid and server when she didn’t really have the experience necessary. Nicole tried to convince herself it had nothing to do with the way she looked in the costumes.

  She made her way over to him, wondering if she was going to get into any trouble for Mat being there. She couldn’t imagine why, not when all he was doing was sitting there, drinking a soda.

  Then again, maybe that was reason enough.

  “Is he giving you a hard time?”

  The question caught her off-guard and she had to stop her mouth from dropping open in shock. A hard time from Mat? The question was almost funny.

  “Who, Mat? No, he’s harmless. Why?”

  Tony kept frowning, not bothering to hide the fact that he was staring at Mat. No, not staring. Glowering. Nicole glanced over her shoulder, expecting to find Mat doing nothing more than sipping on his soda and playing with his phone, which is exactly what he’d been doing for the last thirty minutes. Only he wasn’t doing that now. And the look on his face sent a shiver straight through her.

  He was looking at Tony with a glower of his own, not showing the least sign of being intimidated. The expression on his face was just as dangerous as Tony’s. Intense, watchful, like he was sizing Tony up and warning him all at the same time.

  Harmless? Had she really used that word? There was nothing harmless about the way he looked now.

  But then his gaze slid to her and his expression softened, that small grin lighting his face as his green eyes studied her. Nicole swallowed and looked away, not understanding the little shiver that went through her, leaving her skin tingling. Was it a shiver of excitement, or something else?

  She swallowed again and shook her head. “Uh, no. He’s not bothering me.”

  Tony finally looked away from Mat, his expression telling her he didn’t quite believe her. “You know who he is?”

  Was he asking if she actually knew him? Or asking if she realized who he was, that he was a professional hockey player for the Baltimore Banners? This time she nodded, trying to give Tony a convincing smile.

  “Yeah. He’s, uh, he’s a friend of mine.” That might be stretching the truth a little. Or a lot. But she wasn’t about to tell Tony the truth. “He’s giving me a ride home tonight.”

  “Hm.” Tony didn’t say anything else, just watched her for a long minute. He finally nodded, nothing more than a short jerk of his head. “Then why don’t you change and get out of here, head on home.”

  “But my shift—”

  “Ends in fifteen minutes. It’ll be fine. Now go.”

  Nicole thought about arguing but didn’t, just tossed another glance over her shoulder then moved away from the bar, heading to the dressing room. She felt Mat’s eyes on her the entire time, watching as she made her way across the room. And for the first time since she started working here, she had the urge to tug her shorts down, wishing they weren’t cut quite so short.

  Less than ten minutes later she was back at the bar, dressed in her capris and shirt, standing on the other side as Tony handed her an envelope with the night’s tips. She shoved it into the backpack without opening it, knowing she’d have to wait until she got home to count it. If she had counted correctly during the course of her shift, there should be close to seventy dollars in the envelope after the tips were divided. Not the best night of tips she’d ever gone home with, but not the worst, either.

  Nicole zipped the backpack shut and tossed it over her shoulder, not quite sure what to do now. Should she just turn around and tell Mat it was time to leave? Start walking out and have him follow her? Discomfort made her shuffle her feet. Why was she being like this? Why was she letting him have this effect on her?

  Discomfort gave way to irritation—with herself for letting Mat get to her like this. It was silly and irrational. And dangerous, because she could see herself easily falling for him. Sharing one night with him in New Orleans was one thing because that was all it was supposed to be: one night of memories, a celebration of what she hoped was a new beginning, a way to prove to herself she still knew how to live, how to feel.

  She hadn’t thought she’d see him again, had never planned on seeing him again, and now she wasn’t sure how to act or what to do or even what to think. And falling for the attractive hockey player was the last thing she needed, not when she had been down that road once already, with dire consequences she was still suffering.

  She clenched her jaw and turned around, ready to just walk out. Maybe tell Mat she didn’t need a ride after all, that she’d just catch a cab. Not that she could really spare the money but he didn’t have to know that. Except when she turned around, he was standing right there, so close her nose almost brushed against his chest, high up near the base of his throat. She caught a whiff of his cologne, or maybe it was his soap. Something faintly spicy, a little woodsy, totally masculine and completely him.

  She stepped back in surprise and almost stumbled because of her stupid shoes but his hand shot out and cupped her elbow, steadying her. Awareness ripped through her at his touch, pebbling her skin and causing tingles to spread over her, inside her, until the sharp sensations came together and pooled low in her stomach. And oh God, this was not good. Not good at all. It was just his hand on her elbow, for frick’s sake. How could something that small, that simple, create such an intense reaction in her?

  Because it wasn’t just his touch. It was the look in his smoldering green eyes as he watched her, the scent of his warm body so close to hers, the memory of their one shared night and how his body felt pressed against hers. How he felt buried deep inside her.

  And oh God, she was in so much trouble.

  “Are you ready?”

  No, she wasn’t ready. She’d never be ready. But Nicole just nodded, trying to step around him to lead the way. Even that didn’t work because he slid his hand from her elbow to the small of her back and walked with her. Not behind her, not in front of her, but with her. Right by her side. That shouldn’t matter. She shouldn’t let it matter. But it did.

  And then they were outside and he was opening the car door for her, helping her into the low-slung sports car that cost more than she could ever hope to make in her lifetime. It wasn’t until he closed the door after her that she realized she had another problem.

  Mat was taking her home. And in order to do that, she had to tell him where she lived. Embarrassment and shame, deep and upsetting, burned through her and she wished she could jump from the car and just run. Run away and never look back.

  But that had never worked before. It wouldn’t work now.

  She looked straight ahead through the windshield as Mat started the car. The engine hummed to life, purring beneath her as he asked for her address.

  Nicole rattled off the address, afraid to look at him. “It’s my mom’s place. I’m staying with her for a little bit. Just for a little while.”

  If Mat recognized the street name, if he knew what part of the city it was in, he didn’t say anything. And he didn’t really talk, either. It was almost like he knew she didn’t want to talk, wasn’t up for conversation. But the silence wasn’t oppressive or uncomfortable. In fact, Nicole felt so at ease that she felt herself drifting off, her head falling back against the buttery soft leather of the seat. She wrapped her arms around the backpack, holding it loosely in her lap, and stopped fighting the drifting of her lids.

  “Nicole.” Her name came through a dark haze, the sound soft, sweet, and enticing. A gentle touch along her cheek, against her hair. The sound of her name again, a little louder this time, laced with something that made her dream of smiles and light. “Nicole. Sweetheart. We’re here.”

  “Hm?” Her eyes fluttered open, closed, opened again. She blinked against the harsh light shining through the windshield, blinked again to bring everything into focus.

  A dark street, lit by the single light at the corner. A handful of cars lining each side, rusty and old, some
missing wheels and propped up by cinder blocks. Brick rowhomes, a few with boarded windows, their marble stoops cracked and worn.

  Home.

  Nicole turned her head to look out the window, her eyes automatically finding the rowhome where she lived. No, where her mother lived. Nicole was only staying there. She couldn’t think of herself as living there, not without feeling like she was giving up.

  She blinked again and turned her head to the other side. Mat’s hand was still resting against her shoulder, large and warm and too comforting. Their eyes met and held and Nicole’s breath caught in her throat. It would be so easy to lean forward, just a few inches, and brush her lips against his. To feel the warmth of his mouth, to taste him and see if she had only imagined the spicy sweetness of his kisses that one night.

  Mat smiled and dropped his hand, moving away and reaching for the door handle before she could do anything. Then he was out of the car, coming around to her side. Nicole muttered under her breath, calling herself every kind of fool. At least she hadn’t tried to kiss him, hadn’t embarrassed herself even more.

  She reached for the door handle but she wasn’t quick enough because Mat was already opening the door for her. He held his hand out, reaching for hers. She ignored it, grabbing her backpack instead and getting out of the car on her own.

  “Thanks, I appreciate—”

  “I’ll walk you to the door.” He placed his hand against the small of her back, waiting. Nicole blinked, thinking maybe she was still dreaming after all, maybe she hadn’t really embarrassed herself.

  Then she shook her head and told herself to stop being a fool. He was just being a gentleman, being nice. Nothing more. She moved toward her mother’s rowhome, pulling the key from the side pocket of her backpack as she stepped over the raised slab of one of the cracks in the sidewalk. Mat must not have seen it because he tripped, stumbled, then quickly righted himself. Nicole paused, fighting the sudden insane urge to apologize. But before she could say anything, Mat offered her a small grin and shrugged, like he was saying tripping was his fault.