by Nicole James
“It was a theme party.”
“Where?”
She rolled her eyes and huffed, “What difference does it make?”
“Where?” he repeated, a little more edge to his voice.
“Fine. It was a fraternity party.”
“One of ‘em invite you? You seeing one of ‘em?”
“No. Chelsea was the one who got invited. She asked me to go with her.”
“You do everything Chelsea does?”
“No!”
“You sure about that?”
“What is your problem?”
“You’re sitting there in that getup and you’re seriously askin’ me that?”
“Whatever. Can I go to bed now?”
He leaned forward to capture her chin in his hand, making sure he had her full attention. “Don’t pull a stunt like this again. You need to think about what you’re doin’, babe. I don’t know what sexcapades you had planned tonight, but the only thing that was gonna happen was you gettin’ fucked by some guy who doesn’t give a damn about you.”
She twisted away. “You don’t know that!”
“Babe, you wouldn’t have made it through your first red Solo cup off the keg before some guy woulda been tuggin’ you down a hallway. Wise up.”
“Wise up? Wise up? Did you just say that to me? Do you even know anything about me?”
At that Joker pulled back, realizing he may have stepped into something that he actually wasn’t aware of. “Okay. So tell me.”
“Tell you?” She surged to her feet, struggling to hold the blanket and jerk her hand toward the door. “Get out.”
He rose to his feet, thinking that was probably a good idea. His dick could only think about what was under that afghan, and his brain wasn’t ready to deal with whatever can of worms he’d just opened. “Fine. I’m leavin’.”
When he reached the door, he turned back and pointed a finger at her face. “Do not leave this apartment tonight. Understand?”
She flipped him off.
He slammed the door and stormed out. When he reached his bike, he was so pissed, he knew he needed to calm down before he got on it, so he reached in his vest and pulled out a pack of smokes, shaking one out and dipping his head to light it up. The nicotine surged through his veins but did little to take the edge off. That girl pushed every one of his buttons—some he didn’t even know he had. He needed to get his shit together; he couldn’t do this job if he let her cloud his mind.
He lifted his head to the starry night, but all his mind’s eye could see was Holly’s body wrapped up in ribbons and lace like a fucking Christmas present. In that moment, he’d wanted nothing more than to slide his hands to the smooth skin of her waist and pull that bare belly against him.
He took another long drag. Get a grip, man! She’s off limits.
As he exhaled to the sky, he heard the unmistakable sound of a sliding door opening on the side of the building on the second floor, the side Holly’s apartment faced.
Oh, fuck no. She wouldn’t!
He moved to the building and, hiding in the shadows, he glanced around the corner just in time to see her purse drop to the ground below her balcony. Her shadow was visible above from the golden light of the apartment.
Oh, she has got to be kidding.
He crept along the wall, stopping under the balcony on the patio of a darkened first floor apartment. Its curtains were closed, and he hoped no one was home. Last thing he needed was for the cops to be called.
He waited, and a moment later her heels dropped over the edge to bounce soundlessly on the ground. Then one bare leg slid down the post, her toes trying to gain purchase on the wood. The other leg appeared, and she dangled for a moment before she dropped to the grass, rolling.
He picked up her bag and held it. She got to her feet, brushing off her coat and almost screamed when she saw him.
“Drop something?” He held her purse dangling from two fingers.
“Yes.” She yanked it out of his hand. “It fell off the balcony.”
“The shoes, too?”
She knew she couldn’t bluff her way out of that one. “It’s just a party.”
He grabbed her arm and yanked her to him, watching her eyes widen. “You pull another stunt like this, so help me, Holly, you’re gonna see my handprint on your ass!”
She struggled in his hold.
His eyes moved over her face, seeing the fear there. The last thing he wanted was her afraid of him, but damn it, she had to learn. He wasn’t putting up with this crap, and she was a fool to believe he would. “You’re pushing your luck with me, girl. Don’t do it again. Got it?”
“I’ve got it. Please let go.”
He hadn’t realized how tight his grip had become, and immediately relaxed his hold. Hell, she’d probably have bruises on her arm tomorrow. “You could’ve broken your fool neck.”
“I’m sorry. Please let me go.”
“I’m not gonna hurt you, Holly. So, don’t look at me like that. Like I’m gonna…” Hell, he couldn’t even finish the thought. “You’re terrified when I touch you, but you were willing to go to a frat party dressed like a damn centerfold and let them turn you into their fucktoy? What the hell?”
She got her anger back, and that was far better than the fear. He’d take the anger over that scared look any day.
“Screw you. What I do is my decision.”
“Yeah, well, you don’t seem to be makin’ very good ones lately. I’m just tryin’ to look out for you, keep you safe like I said I would.”
They both stared each other down, anger surging between them, and then suddenly it wasn’t just anger surging between them. The tension turned sexual in the blink of an eye.
His voice softened. “You’re a beautiful girl, babe. Don’t you get that?”
She relaxed in his hold, and he inhaled the light floral scent she wore, and suddenly he had tunnel vision; everything but the look on her face faded away.
His eyes dropped to her bottom lip quivering as she leaned closer, tilting her head up toward him, practically begging for a kiss. His thumb on her wrist began rubbing soft circles on the under flesh of her arm, and with every swipe of the pad, she seemed to lean closer and closer until they were a breath apart.
He was taller and had to dip his head down, but with hers tilted up at him, their mouths were inches apart. It wouldn’t take much to close the gap and take what he longed for, what her lips begged for… but then Undertaker’s words drifted through his head. You don’t fucking touch her.
It took everything he had to step back, swallowing. He saw the look of disappointment flit briefly across her face before she shut it down and stepped back as well, pulling free of his hold. And this time he let her, releasing her and bending to gather up her shoes.
“Go to bed, Holly.”
Without a word, she ran barefoot to the front door and was gone.
Joker stood there a moment, breathing heav, and raked his fingers through his hair in frustration before he strode to his bike. When he was just about to fire it up, his cell dinged with a text. He flicked his thumb across the screen, opening it to see a photo. It was a picture of the thong she wore under the shorts, showing her body from bellybutton to the tops of her creamy thighs. The messages read: I know you were wondering.
She was hotter than even his imagination could have dreamt up.
Jesus Christ. He wasn’t going to survive this gig.
He thought about deleting it, but he wasn’t a fool. He’d save it for later, just for himself. He’d never show it to any of his brothers. He wasn’t that big a dick. And besides, there’d be hell to pay if Undertaker knew he had it.
He fired his bike up and roared off, letting the cold air clear his head, knowing he wouldn’t be getting much sleep tonight because he’d be up tormenting himself with thoughts of her in that thong. Hell, when had he become such a masochist?
Chapter Eight
The boys in the club avoided the Quarter like the plague during Mardi Gras, but
now, with it over and done with, the itch to listen to a little New Orleans jazz or blues and knock back a few returned.
And so, Joker and So-Cal rode through the streets of the Quarter Thursday night, looking for some decent music. They’d left the clubhouse after the weekly church meeting and headed across the Ponchartrain looking to unwind.
They backed their bikes to the curb in front of Johnny White’s on St. Peter. Joker unbuckled his helmet, preparing to go inside when So-Cal whistled and motioned down the street. Joker glanced over and saw his brother was already following two babes carrying the unmistakable tall plastic green containers of the legendary drinks known as Hand Grenades.
Typical So-Cal, if there was a babe within two blocks, he’d find her. Joker smiled and shook his head as he followed.
Two tourists who’d obviously overindulged were puking at the curb between two cars.
So-Cal looked over. “Amateurs.”
Joker chuckled. “Natural selection, do your stuff.”
The two women ahead of them stepped into the courtyard entrance to Pat O’s. They approached two men, whom it was obvious they were meeting.
So-Cal turned, rolling his eyes at Joker, but never one to give up, he scanned the balconies that overlooked the courtyard. There was a bachelorette party—made obvious by the matching pink feather boas they all wore, all except the bride who wore a white one and a tiara that, in case any dumbfuck missed it, proclaimed her the bride.
It didn’t hold Joker’s interest, although he knew So-Cal was always up for the challenge of being the bride’s last fling—the kind of challenge the man couldn’t resist.
Joker checked out some babes by the multi-colored fountain in the center of the courtyard when he felt an elbow jab his ribs.
“Hey, bro, you look up there? You recognize her?”
Joker’s gaze followed where So-Cal pointed. When the bachelorette party moved aside, there, standing in a short skirt and sparkly halter-top, complete with several strands of Mardi Graz beads around her neck, was Holly.
“Goddamn it,” Joker muttered, already making his way inside. He had to push past the descending bachelorette party like a trout swimming upstream as he took the steps two at a time, thinking just what he was going to do to that little underage brat when he got his hands on her.
With the bridal party leaving, the top floor was almost vacant except for a couple of women waiting in the hall by the restroom. He stepped onto the balcony through one of the several open louvered doors. He spied her on the other end sipping on a drink when she spotted him, her eyes going wide. He shouldered past a couple, and another couple, but by the time he got to the other side of the balcony, she’d gone inside through another set of doors. He jostled a surprised Chelsea, who was so drunk she barely could stand but still rallied to mutter in a slurred voice, “Hey! What’re you doing here?”
He ignored her—and the guy all over her—and chased Holly toward the staircase.
“Holly, goddamn it, get back here!”
She flew down the steps as fast as her feet could carry her.
Joker peered over the open railing in time to see So-Cal finally following him up. He yelled to him, pointing at Holly, “Stop her!”
So-Cal caught her around the waist with a strong arm as she made to dart past him. He lifted her clear off her feet and trudged up the stairs with her. She kicked and screamed when he passed her to Joker, who grabbed her upper arm and yanked her to him. “Where the hell were you going?”
She could only stare mutely up at him.
He could barely think straight but he was lucid enough to realize they had an audience in the two women waiting for the bathroom. He grit through his teeth at Holly, “Tell them you’re fine.”
She licked her lips, and he thought she might do the opposite, but even she knew better than to cross that line. She looked over at them and smiled, “I’m fine. He’s a jealous boyfriend, that’s all. It’s okay, ladies.”
They gave a small smile and turned away, and he jerked her in the other direction, down a small hall and found a storage closet. He yanked it open and tugged her inside, flicking on the light.
She released a cry of surprise as he kicked the door shut and threw the lock.
“What are you—?” He cut her question off with a palm to her midsection pressing her against the wall. He braced his hands on either side of her and leaned in until their lips were almost touching. As she shrank farther against the wall and her eyes dropped to his lips, it gave him satisfaction to know he had her full attention when he bit out, “For a little thing, you’re a shitload of trouble, you know that? What the hell are you doing here?”
“I…we just wanted to…”
“To what? I feel like I already know the answer, but have you lost your fucking mind? It’s after midnight and you’re half drunk in the fucking Quarter, babe. Talk about asking for trouble.”
“Where I go is none of your business.”
“Babe, it’s absolutely my business.”
“We just wanted to have some fun. There’s no harm in that, is there?” She batted her eyelashes.
“Puppy dog eyes, really? Don’t try to manipulate me. Won’t work, babe. Your girl Chelsea’s blitzed out of her mind. Please God, tell me she isn’t driving.”
“No, of course not. We were going to take the bus home.”
“The city bus at two a.m? Do you know how dangerous that is?”
“Or we might find someone to give us a ride home.”
Joker shook his head. “It’s just baffling—the ideas, or more accurately, crap, you two come up with.”
Her hands landed flat on his chest, and she shoved him back. It only gained her a couple of inches, but he had to give her points for the effort. “I don’t have to listen to this.”
His eyes swept down over her halter-top; it was obvious she wore nothing under it. “Are you trying to prove something in that thing?”
“Prove something? Like what?”
“Like the fact you can get any man you want?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Every time I see you you’re showin’ skin, and a fuckin’ lot of it.”
“This is a normal amount of skin.”
“You’re on Bourbon Street. I see the beads dangling around your neck. You flash your tits to get ‘em?”
She gave him a smirk. “What’s it to you? Pissed cause you haven’t seen them yet?”
His head reared back an inch, and his brows lifted. “Yet?”
She looked away and bit her lip. “That’s not… that’s not what I meant.”
“I should beat your ass for this stunt you pulled—running away from me like that, makin’ me chase after you, So-Cal havin’ to haul your ass up the stairs like you’re a child. Fucking grow up, Holly.”
She stuck her chin out. “I don’t think that’s what you’re so upset about. I think you’re upset because you’re noticing just how grown up I am, and you can’t touch me. That’s driving you crazy, isn’t it?”
He tightened his jaw as her words hit way too close to home.
“I’ve tried, Holly. I’ve been supportive and I’ve been patient. Through the drinking and the temper tantrums and the bratty behavior, I’ve tried. But you’re pushin’ me too far.”
There was a bang on the door and So-Cal’s voice. “Dude, best get out here. I think those bitches went to get the manager.”
Joker backed off but grabbed her wrist. “I’m taking you home. I’m assuming you’re in here on a fake ID, so unless you want the cops called, you do what I say. We’re walking out of here, and you’re not giving me any fucking trouble, agreed?”
She stood mutely.
“This is the part where you’re supposed to agree with me.”
“Okay. Fine. But what about Chelsea?”
“If she can stay upright on the back of So-Cal’s bike, she can be his problem.”
“I know this is a stupid question to ask here and now, but why do they call him So-Ca
l?”
“He’s from Southern California.”
“Oh, I guess you didn’t have to be an Einstein to figure that one out.”
“And yet you didn’t.”
She rolled her eyes.
They exited the closet, and So-Cal raised his brows at Joker. “The fuck are you doin’, Brother?”
“Settin’ her straight. Come on. You get the drunk roommate.”
“Lucky me.”
***
Joker and So-Cal dropped the girls off at the apartment. Chelsea managed to hold on long enough to get home on the back of the bike, but she was still staggering and needed help up the stairs.
Joker figured Holly was embarrassed enough and left without a word. When he and So-Cal got back to their bikes parked at the curb, he ran a hand down his face. “What a shit night.’
So-Cal nodded. “So that’s the babe who threw herself at you before? What kind of dumbass turns that down?”
“Chelsea? Yeah, she’s cute, but she’s a bitch, and I’d have to cover her face with a fuckin’ bag to stomach doin’ her.”
So-Cal chuckled. “You’re so full of shit, man.”
“She hit on you?”
“Yep.”
“Well, you ain’t goin’ there, either.”
“What? Why not? I mean, not now obviously—the girl’s facedown drunk—but maybe later…”
“Not later, either.”
“Why the fuck not?”
“Cause she’s Holly’s roommate, and I said so.”
“You may boss her around, bro, but you’re not my president. Undertaker said hands off Holly. That restriction’s on you. Ain’t nobody gonna tell me I can’t fuck her roommate. That girl ain’t shit to the club.”
“You’re right, but I’m asking you not to. It’d just make my life and this job more hell than it already is.”
“Shit. You don’t ask for much, do ya?”
“I’ll owe ya one.”
“Yeah, you fucking will.” He threw a leg over his bike and set his helmet on his head.
“Hey, So-Cal.”
“Yeah.”
“You around when all that shit went down with Black Jack?”
“I was there.”
“I know some of it, but not all. You want to fill me in?”
