Layers Peeled

by Lacey Silks

  “Hello, ladies,” he purred.

  Some giggled, others replied with a shy “Hi.” A few girls who were not in our group just happened to join us like they somehow belonged.

  I couldn’t get a word out. First, because seeing him here like this, the father of my child, was beyond dreamlike. I felt like I was just seeing him for the first time. No matter when I looked at him, though, Tristan Cross became hotter than a burning skillet. Jess was at his arm in an instant, claiming him with her fingers, digging into his arm like she wouldn’t let him go, ever.

  Tristan gently removed her slithering hands and kissed the top like a gentleman, then looked to the group, saying, “And what is the top class of a beauty school drinking tonight?”

  “Is he for real?” Tessa, our other friend, leaned into me.

  “Holy shit,” I heard Laura gasp, and I guessed she’d just recognized Tristan as well.

  “I’m not sure that’s on the menu,” he grinned, turning to the bar. “Bartender’s Wet Dream for the girls, please.”

  Jess was back on his arm. “Dance with me and I’ll make your wet dream come true.”

  Lame, I thought, hoping I could come up with a witty one-liner, one that would scream get your fucking claws off my man. But of course my mouth was still not cooperating, and thankfully my Tristan put Jess in her place before she shoved her hands down his pants. In all truthfulness I couldn’t blame her. I wanted to grasp what I already knew was hiding under that zipper myself. And as forward as she was, she’d never behave that way if she knew I’d claimed him.

  “With all due respect, I’m already spoken for.”

  For a moment Jess’s confusion was worthy of an Oscar. Pride swelled in my chest and I felt my boobs instantly lift in my tight corset.

  But Tristan’s class was higher than those trained at Academy for Sexy Hunks and Gentlemen. He leaned closer to Jess’s ear and I heard him whisper, “But the bartender has had his eye on you all night.”

  Her attention flew to the grinning blond who was finishing off another round of our shots. He winked at her, way differently than he had at me, and her knees wobbled. Man, what did he put in that tequila? The girls swooning at Tristan hadn’t even noticed the count of Bartender’s Wet Dream shots was one less than in our group, but I was already aware he wouldn’t serve me any alcohol.

  “Ladies, I hope you don’t mind if I steal Allie for a while.”

  Slowly their heads shook in agreement and Tristan took my hand. The warmth of his touch flew along my skin and I felt like I’d just been picked up by the sexiest guy alive. Actually, I had been. And I couldn’t help but gloat that he was mine, all mine.

  Laura remained speechless, but I saw a thumbs-up by her hip, aimed completely at me.

  I followed Tristan to the dance floor, trying not to trip over the deadly looks stuck in my back like daggers, courtesy of all the women dancing around us. But I didn’t really care. I was with Tristan, and he made me feel so alive and wanted and beautiful. Life was actually worth living.

  Behind us I heard, “How did Allie score him?” and “Don’t I know him from somewhere?”

  I would definitely have some explaining to do.

  Tristan led me toward the center of the dance floor. As if at his request, the music slowed and he spun me right into his arms. The way he held me, protected me from the world and sharp stares, made me feel like I was hovering on cloud nine. The press of his body against mine erased all my worries – in fact all my thoughts. He cast a spell over me, and that giddy feeling of a school girl returned.

  “Smooth, Mr. Cross.”

  “Thank you, Ms. Green.”

  “You knew we were coming here tonight?”

  “Yes.”

  “Should I even ask how?”

  “No, but please accept my apologies for ruining your ladies’ night out. I just couldn’t stay away from you.”

  “Any evening when you’re around seems to be much better.”

  “I’ll make a note of that.”

  “Weren’t you supposed to come back tomorrow?” I slid my hands up his arms, wanting to feel that much more of him.

  “And spend a restless night in a hotel room with a cold bed? I’d much rather be here.” And there was that lifted lip again: so perfect, even if scarred.

  “Are you suggesting you’ll be in my bed tonight?”

  “Yours, mine. It doesn’t make a difference as long as you’re in my arms.”

  I bit my lip. “You were flirting back there.” I looked up into his eyes. The dark atmosphere added a pinch of mystery to his hazels.

  “I was not.”

  “Bartender’s Wet Dream?”

  “Would a Dead Penis have sounded better?”

  I chuckled. “How about I’m off the market?”

  “But that should be obvious from the way I look at you.”

  The heat of his stare penetrated me to the core. He could have asked me to come on the spot and I would have. How had he managed to steal all my sensibility? With that one simple sentence I wanted us to be alone, ideally back at Tristan’s apartment and in his bed. I couldn’t deny at how my body responded to every single look Tristan graced upon me. I hung onto his words like they were all connected in a chain that kept me attached to this world. Otherwise, I’d think I was dreaming. Girls like me, regular ones who led a simple lifestyle (less the obsessive bastard Wright who’d ruined my childhood), weren’t supposed to deserve a man like Tristan. He’d managed to peel every single layer of my impenetrable cop exterior with a look, a touch, and a word.

  “I stole your ladies’ night, but I can guarantee your friends will be well taken care of.”

  I didn’t doubt that. Jess was already leaning over the bar, striking up a conversation that would lead to nothing less than a night of hot banging. Laura had found some hottie as well, whom I thought I recognized, and was grinding her body against him like blunt knife on a whetstone. The poor guy had no idea what he was in for.

  “I think they’ll manage,” I laughed, feeling Tristan’s hairline with the tips of my fingers, “and I much prefer this.”

  And without another word Tristan dipped me back and down in a semi-circle, forcing my pelvis to brace against his thigh. The contact sent a sharp throb of pleasure through my body. When I came up, Tristan’s full hand supported my back, holding me closer. I had no room to breathe or move. His grasp left no space for a wiggle, and I had no choice but to lose myself in his graceful and needy mouth. The club disappeared from my thoughts. The sounds around us faded. The pounding of his heartbeat mixed with mine and echoed in my ears. Tristan possessed my mouth, and without thinking I let him. His tender tongue parted my lips and guided mine, pressing harder when I tried to inhale, its depth and moist tip tantalizing me. Kissing Tristan was almost as good as making love to him. If he’d stripped me naked right in the middle of this dance floor, I’d have allowed him. I laced my fingers into his hair, feeling its soft texture tickle between them.

  When he pulled away I heaved, trying to focus. The room spun, and only then did I notice the shift in the tempo of bodies around us. The lights flashed in a sequence of purples and reds. A blue wave of a laser light cut through rising steam that must have been coming out of a fog machine. Tristan began moving, guiding my arms to follow his lead. The suave moves and spins and dips made him that much sexier. I laughed as if I were on the way down a steep rollercoaster. This night couldn’t have turned out more perfectly, but I seemed to tire out way too quickly for my liking. Our little Puss was definitely draining my energy.

  And with one nod toward the bar, Tristan pushed past the crowd, which once again parted at his sight, holding onto my hand like it was priceless.

  “I’m thirsty,” I explained, apologizing with my eyes for stopping the dance.

  Tristan waved his hand at another barman, pointing two fingers to the ceiling and circling them. It was like they had a sign language I wasn’t aware of.

  “Follow me.” He led me towards the VIP lou
nge.

  He sat on a soft couch and pulled me right into his lap. It felt like heaven to be in his arms. Soon after a waitress brought me an iced tea with lemon and Tristan a glass of scotch.

  “I’d offer you tequila,” he said, passing me the glass.

  “Stop teasing. You know I won’t touch one for a few years.” I removed my high heels and lifted my feet to the seat, wrapping my arm around his neck, and then drank half the glass at once.

  “Do you regret it?” he asked in a surprisingly serious tone.

  “Never,” I set my glass aside.

  “You and Puss are the best things that could have happened to me.” His hand slid over my belly.

  “You read my thoughts,” I said.

  He kissed my nose and took a sip of his scotch. Tristan’s arm never let go of my waist and I was still sitting in his lap. The smell of him and that soft curve I felt under my ass were beyond arousing.

  “You know, there’s still one thing I don’t quite understand about you. Why would you ever buy a nightclub if you don’t have the time for it, or hardly ever come here?”

  “My ownership is just a formality. This club was Kendra’s dream. When I found out she was using drugs, I wanted to steer her in a different direction and offered to help her finance the venture, but she refused.”

  “Why?”

  “It was her way of dealing with my rejection. I’m guessing she wanted to spite me. My only choice was to get Gabriel Silver, my cousin and partner, to become a silent partner.”

  “The one in Vienna, who you said was hiding from Martinez.”

  “Yes. When Gabe tried to help Kendra and got involved, things took a wrong turn. He was forced to stay in Vienna to keep his girl safe, and we had no other choice but to transfer the title to me. This way I could at least get people to manage the place.”

  “Why not just sell it?”

  “Because deep down in my heart I know this is still Kendra’s dream. Once she’s well, I’m hoping it will keep her occupied. Maybe Julian can work the kind of magic on her I couldn’t.”

  “Is she getting better?”

  “Julian’s hopeful. He’s trying to get her to connect to this world. Telling the difference between what’s real and not is still a struggle. She keeps relapsing thinking she’s still captive, but it’s baby steps.”

  “Do you think you should be helping Kendra to such an extent?”

  “She’s actually asked me not to interfere. You sound jealous, Allie. You know I’m all yours.”

  “I can’t help it if I am a little, but I don’t want to be. I want to understand.”

  He took a deep breath in. “I feel like I started the roll down the hill. Now I just want to make sure there’s a brake on the bottom a bit gentler than slamming into a wall. Rejecting Kendra the way I did was wrong. I should have seen it coming. She retaliated not only by stabbing me but by ruining her life. She had no one to count on because of me. I owe her, as my friend, to get her back on her feet.”

  Tristan blamed himself for what had happened to Kendra. It seemed she was still hunting Tristan’s life more than he wanted to admit. Or perhaps it was that tiny lump of jealousy in my heart, wishing I didn’t have to share Tristan with anyone – even his past.

  CHAPTER 4

  As the night progressed we enjoyed the privacy of the lounge, talking and flirting and making out. I was glad once our conversation turned away from Kendra. The flame of jealousy rekindled in the pit of my stomach every time she was mentioned, and I didn’t like the feeling. The comfort of Tristan’s company and his soothing kisses on my shoulder – in fact everything he did – held so much emotion. I felt guilty worrying that he could still have feelings for someone else. Besides, she had saved my life, so I owed her.

  Tristan’s phone buzzed in his pocket.

  “It’s Washington. I have to take this. Please excuse me. I’ll be right back.”

  His unpleased expression and the troubled shift in his cheeks made me wary, but I stayed where he’d asked me to wait for him. I leaned back on the couch, watching my two friends wiggle their butts on the dance floor. Laura, Jess, and Tessa twirled and spun around their new boy toys. Even if I couldn’t recognize the men from the distance, their silhouettes were definitely well built. Yet something familiar about Laura’s man of the hour caught my attention. I definitely recognized the muscled body shape and suave movements but couldn’t quite place them. Watching my friends dance, I was certain I’d miss going out with them when my belly was sticking out; not that we got a chance to do so too often even now.

  Near the club entrance, beyond the crowd of heads, a couple caught my attention. Their sharp movements and awkward body language alerted my instincts. A man wearing black jeans and a hoodie was gripping a girl’s wrist harder than I liked. She tried to weasel out of his hold, but that only seemed to anger him. He raised his arm to hit her but stopped mid-way, and she shrank back against the wall.

  My back straightened.

  Let her go! I screamed in my mind, my gaze darting to the two bouncers whose attention was on the ever-growing line outside. The thug jerked on her arm again. The girl obviously didn’t want to leave with him. She kept pulling on his arm, trying to free herself from his hold. For a moment I thought tears glistened in her eyes, but it was difficult to see from such a distance. My heart ached. I stood tall on my toes, looking over the mingling crowd. If a few more people entered, I’d lose track of them. He yanked her harder as she braced her other hand and her feet against a wall, struggling to fight back.

  And that revived all my senses. I shouldn’t have waited this long anyway. A fresh dose of adrenaline rushed through my veins. I pushed through the crowd, aiming for the entrance. My focus remained on the couple as every ounce of my being committed to help her get rid of the bastard. She thrashed around and raised her hand to slap him, but he stopped her mid-way once again. I wished she’d hit him, and I promised to give him a dose of his own medicine if I only got a chance.

  The thug crushed into her in response, pinning her between his front and the wall. His nose squished against hers, his tight lips moving harshly as he tried to speak through his teeth. The spit shower from his mouth oozed with threats I could only imagine. The girl rolled her shoulders forward and recoiled like a puppy who’d been scolded for peeing on the floor.

  He pulled her hand once more, she lowered her head, and they headed for the exit.

  “Stop them,” I screamed over the music, but no one heard me. Why did moving through this crowd feel like I was swimming in molasses? My feet felt like they were waddling through thick, half-cooled asphalt. I automatically reached to my waist for my gun, but of course I didn’t have it on me.

  “Out of the way!” I pushed past a group of girls whose ensembles consisted mostly of skin. Their chilled looks attached to my back. Cold night air slammed into me as I left the club. My breaths were shallow, and my chest rose up and down in a quick sequence. Searching for the girl, my gaze skidded left then right, pinpointing the familiar shadows down the street. There she was – trying to stop him, resisting his pull, but his brute strength overpowered her. Their unintelligible argument began fading out of earshot.

  Reaching into my pocket I removed my phone and texted Laura. Tristan could have been on the other line and not receive my message.

  A. Green: Out of club following an asshole. Turn right. May need help.

  I ran faster than my thoughts allowed me to process the situation. Where was he taking her? If I screamed now he’d speed up, so I just kept up the pace, to slowly shorten the distance between us, hoping Laura would get my message. Two was always better than one. Since I still hadn’t recovered from my injuries, my legs began to ache more quickly than usual. The lack of proper exercise over the last month hadn’t helped, and running in boots was not the most comfortable. I contemplated removing them, or at least ripping those damn heels off.

  As I reached the corner where they’d turned, I looked back toward the distancing club. The
alley here had darkened. I removed my phone again and texted Laura my last intersection.

  A moment of doubt whether I should continue swept through me, but the loud scream I heard dissolved any hesitation.

  A few feet away from them, my voice found my lungs again as I yelled, “Let her go, you son a bitch!”

  Obviously shocked, the bastard froze. The girl peeked at me from between her arms that she’d used to cover her head. Her face was smeared with running mascara and her eyes glossed over. A visible tear at the side of her dress signaled the man’s intention.

  “Mind your own business, twat.” He flipped open a switchblade, all the while holding the girl with one hand. Boy, was he ever threatening the wrong person. The sweatshirt hood he wore slid off his head and a bush of curls puffed out. The street light reflected on his sweaty forehead. Why did the name Larry seem so appropriate for him?

  “She is my business. Let her go and I’ll spare you one broken leg.”

  In my mind I’d already crushed his other one; right at the knee. He had no chance to get away from that.

  “Come with me,” I motioned to the girl. Warily she tried to move toward me, but the bastard only tightened his grip.

  “Are you afraid to fight?” I taunted. “Ah, you’re a momma’s boy, aren’t you? All strong when weaker women are around, but like a stray cat à la douche bag when someone stands up to you.”

  He cracked his head to one side then the other, saying, “You’re asking for it, bitch!” He finally let go of the girl, who backed up into a corner where the wall protruded. She lowered down into a crouch.