by Jayne Blue
When she finished her little speech, I didn’t say a word. I just stared at her, studying every detail about her. She had long legs wrapped in tight jeans. I’d seen the curve of her sweet ass last night. She wore the same red heels this morning. A little flash of heat went through me, as I realized they matched her bra. Did she have panties to go with it? Or were those jeans so tight she hadn’t worn any?
I moved closer to her, putting my arm across the seat back. She didn’t stop me when I took a lock of her shimmering, platinum hair between my fingers. Man, it was soft, like silk. She smelled good too. Clean. Expensive. Her lips parted again and her breath caught. Two little dots of color came into her cheeks and her pupils grew wide. She had a pair of the most amazing blue eyes I’d ever seen. They were so pale, the back lines around her irises gave her an almost cat-like look.
She would taste good. I knew it. I slid my free hand along her jaw, gently pressing my thumb against her chin, drawing her mouth open. I could kiss this girl and change her world. I think she was used to living in the light. She’d never had anything as dark as me. It gave her a thrill she probably hadn’t expected. Hell, it gave me the same kind. I leaned in to kiss her, my face hovering no more than an inch from hers. Her eyes hooded and she tilted a little to the right, waiting for my move.
“Tell me, Quinn,” I said, letting my voice drop so low it sounded like a growl. “What’s in this for me?”
Quinn blinked wildly. That sweet, little pink tongue of hers darted in and out. I stayed still as stone, waiting for her answer. She sucked in a breath and put her hands flat on my chest. It was just an instant, but she let her fingers trail over the leather, tracing the outline of my patch.
Then she locked her elbows and pushed me back. “I told you,” she said, her cheeks still flaming red. “I’m not a hooker. You’d be a paid consultant. What I’m offering you, Mr. Domino, is a job.”
She was a little bit scared but her arousal was unmistakable. I could see her pebbled nipples poking through both her bra and the shirt. What I wouldn’t give to run my thumbs over them, drawing her out even more.
But I sat back, putting space between us. “A job?” I said.
“A job,” she said, swallowing. “As a technical consultant. It’s done all the time. The production company will draw up a contract with terms. We have a limited budget, but there’s maybe a little room to negotiate.”
I laughed. I couldn’t help it. It bubbled up from a deep place and rumbled through my whole body. Quinn fixed that fiery stare at me until I got a hold of myself again.
“Honey,” I said. “You’re right. You’re not great at the pitch. As much as I wouldn’t mind getting to know you a little better, my club’s not for sale. We’re not looking to go mainstream. Why don’t you head over to Laredo and see if your schtick works better on the Devil’s Hawks.”
I meant the last bit as a joke but the minute I said it, I wanted to take it back. She’d have no way of knowing I was kidding. Laredo was the last place a girl like her should go. But she was pissed enough not to really react to the details.
“Mr. Domino,” she started. I held up a hand.
“Domino,” I said. “Just ... Domino. Or Dom. Look. This has been fun. Good luck to you. I mean it. Sincerely. But I’m afraid you’re going to have to make your little project without any help from the Dark Saints. Let’s just say this kind of thing ain’t our style.”
“That’s the point,” she said, undaunted. “I want to know what your style is.”
I could think of a million comebacks for that line. As much as I wanted to spend more time with Quinn, play time was over. I opened the car door and stepped outside. The sun was bright and I slid my sunglasses on.
“Wait,” she said, ducking so she could see my face. “Let me at least drive you back.”
I shook my head. “It’s all good, Hollywood. I’ve got some business down here anyway. I can find my way back. I meant what I said. Good luck.”
Before Quinn could say anything else, I shut the door and headed for the other side of the fountain. I really did have a few businesses I needed to check on.
Though it killed me to turn my back on her, I knew Quinn watched me walk away. It made me feel a little like a damn tiger at the zoo. Was she interested in me, or just the patch I wore? Normally, I didn’t give a shit one way or the other. But I’d be lying if I said she hadn’t gotten under my skin just a bit.
By the time I rounded the corner, she’d pulled out of her parking spot and headed for the bridge. I finally stopped and turned. Now it was my turn to watch her leave. Though I couldn’t see anything through her tinted windows.
Quinn Larsen. I let the name simmer in my thoughts. She made it sound like I was supposed to know who she was. A famous actress. Well, who would have thought? Except it made perfect sense. No way a woman who looked like she did wasn’t famous for something.
Chapter 5
Domino
I spent the morning checking in with the businesses owners we had security contracts with along the boardwalk. Usually, I took Chase or Axle with me when I did it. Today, it felt good to have my head to myself. When I was done, I called for one of the probies to pick me up and take me back to the clubhouse.
We got there late in the afternoon. As we went up the long gravel driveway to the clubhouse, I couldn’t help laughing to myself. The Dark Saints M.C. clubhouse sure as shit didn’t look like anything you’d see on a movie screen. That’s probably what I should have told Quinn. If she was looking for something real, she’d be disappointed. Our house was a long, L-shaped, black brick building tucked off the rural highway on the edge of town. We ran a body shop on the property. Beyond the woods behind it was our junkyard.
Rufus, our half-pit club dog, came roaring around the corner when I got out of the van. I scratched his good ear and headed through the back door.
“You’re a sight for sore eyes, honey!” Mama Bear called out. She stood behind the bar, wiping down beer mugs. Her eyes crinkled when she smiled and she blew me a kiss. She wore a black tank top that showed off her toned arms. In her mid-fifties, Josie Bullock had a body that could put women half her age to shame. Her silver hair gleamed under the bar lights as she gestured toward the back room where I knew I’d find the rest of my crew.
“I’ll check in later, Mama!” I yelled at her. She gave me a thumbs up and went back to work.
As I made my way down the darkened hallway to the back room, a rowdy cheer rose. By the sound of it, they were either watching sports or porn on the flat-screen TV behind the pool table.
Sure enough, as I entered the room, about a dozen guys were huddled around the screen knocking back draft beer. Toby had the remote control in his hand. Kade, Axle, and Machop were on one side of him. Shep, Deacon, and Maddox were on the other. I heard heavy, female breathing coming from the speakers. Ah. So it wasn’t sports.
“Pause that. Pause it!” Machop shouted. “Rewind that shit!”
Laughing, Toby complied. “I told you assholes. You didn’t believe me!”
“Well,” Chase said, coming out of the john. “Dom’s here now. Ask him yourself.”
The crew turned around. All of them wore the same shit-eating grin. “What the hell?” I asked, taking a frosted bottle of beer from Deacon.
“Quinn fucking Larsen!” Toby said, his eyes twinkling. He spread his arms wide and angled them toward the TV. My back went up and my blood chilled. The crowd parted, clearing my view of the television screen.
It was Quinn all right. Her hair was shorter and she was sitting on the edge of a pool at night. The LED lights beneath the water kept changing, turning her skimpy white bikini blue, then green, then pink.
The camera took its time with her. Focusing on her face, then widening. You could see the outline of her areolas through the light fabric of the bikini top. She threw her hair over her shoulder and arched her back as she dangled her feet in the water.
“I’m not like the other girls, Jake,” she said in a breat
hless, put-on voice. I didn’t know this movie, but I’d seen a million like it. Probably college kids on spring break. I sort of recognized the actor playing Jake. He treaded water in the pool a few feet from Quinn’s character. He wore horn-rimmed glasses and kept pushing them up his nose.
He said his line. I couldn’t hear it. My eyes were glued to Quinn. Her dark nipples showed straight through the white bikini. She rose, slowly. The camera angle switched so you could see her from the back. Oh. Wearing a thong, that sweet ass of hers was on display. I went from arousal to rage.
They were all looking at her. Toby’s mouth dropped open. Machop thumped his hands against a chair back. Shep put his fingers in his mouth and whistled. “Show it all, baby!”
Then Quinn hooked her thumbs in her bikini bottom and dragged it down, bending far forward. It was tasteful as these things went. Hell, you could see bare-ass shots on primetime shows.
The camera switched and you could see her from the dude in the pool’s point of view but only from the waist up. Cocking her head to the side, Quinn reached up and undid the straps of her bikini top, letting it fall to the ground.
It was just a moment. Maybe two seconds. But there she was, glistening wet, her perfect tits on display for the camera. The camera went wide so you could see her in profile.
“Damn, those babies are natural!” Machop yelled, then stuffed a handful of popcorn in his mouth. I came close to reaching over and wringing his fucking neck.
Then Quinn executed a flawless dive and disappeared beneath the water. When she came up, she had her arms wrapped around the actor in the horn-rimmed glasses.
The same cheer rose among the guys. A couple of them whistled and touched the necks of the beer bottles together in a toast.
“Hot damn!” Toby said, putting his arm around me.
Protective rage and jealousy ignited inside me like a volcanic eruption. Before I knew what I was doing, I hurled my beer bottle hard at the flat screen. It went dark as a huge crack opened up straight down the middle.
Chapter 6
Quinn
For two days after the lobby selfie hit social media, I holed up in my penthouse suite waiting for everything to blow over. The concierge helped out with a bit of subterfuge and the vultures finally started believing I’d moved on. But for those two days, it meant Noel was out there tooling around in Port Azrael all by himself. Though I didn’t mind the solitude, I knew solo Noel had a real chance of mucking everything up for us in this town for good.
Noel and I agreed to take dinner in my room. He’d called earlier in the day claiming he had news to report. When I heard a soft knock on my door at four o’clock, I assumed he’d come early. I swung the door open and found Noreen Nichols standing there instead.
Noreen had been my agent since I was eleven years old. She was responsible for getting me a part on Crosspointe. At one point, it had been the number one cable series, three years running. I’d played Heather Kinney, the sweet, all-American daughter of the show’s lead character, Reverend Tim Kinney. That show had made my career, but risked pigeonholing me in girl-next-door, wholesome, bland roles for the rest of my life. Now I had the opposite problem. The scream queen roles Noreen got me to help shed that squeaky-clean image were now getting me typecast in the opposite direction.
Noreen had her fist up, ready to knock again as the door opened. She was a tiny, delicate thing, standing only four foot ten, with a mass of dark hair. It was pure gray underneath and stuck out in wiry disarray that was kind of her trademark. That, and the large, owlish glasses she wore. Thick, round, black frames that were far too big for her face. She completed the caricature with siren-red lipstick. When I was a kid, I couldn’t figure out how she couldn’t realize how shocking she looked. Now I understood it. Noreen was memorable. Instantly recognizable. A household name in and of herself.
My heart dropped as I found a smile. Noreen slowly lowered her fist and crossed her arms in front of herself. She didn’t wait for an invitation. Instead, she barged right past me and headed for the living area at the center of my suite of rooms. She plopped down on the couch in front of the windows and swung her foot up and down over her knee, waiting for me.
“You could have called,” I said.
Noreen pulled a jeweled lighter out of her designer-pants pocket and twirled it between her fingers. She didn’t smoke anymore, but fingering the lighter was an old habit she couldn’t break.
“I did call,” she said. “Twenty times. You’ve been blowing me off for almost a week, Quinn. I’ve been making excuses all over town for you.”
“Well, you don’t have to. I’m doing exactly what I came here for. Producing.”
“Right,” she said, looking out the window. “Let’s cut the bullshit. Are you going to go in for the Howard film or not? I know it’s a little insulting that they’re making you read. But just, play the game for me, all right? It’s a formality.”
I leaned against the door, not really wanting to make Noreen feel welcome here. I loved her. I did. She’d been my champion for a decade. Most people would kill to have her representation. I knew how lucky I was. But I was so tired of feeling like I was phoning my career in.
“Noreen,” I said. “This project matters to me. I want to stick it out. I don’t see what the urgency is with doing another horror flick. Night Terrors IV is already in post-production. Have you already forgotten what you promised me when I agreed to do it? You said to do one for the studio, do one for the fans. Then the next one I could do for me. Well, The Club is for me.”
She bit her bottom lip and kept her gaze fixed out the window. “Is there a guy?”
Her question struck me right in the chest. “A guy? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“This Ransom kid maybe,” she said. “Or somebody you met out here.”
“Noreen, for the love of God. Be serious. No, there’s no guy.” In some ways, Noreen Nichols would always see me as a gullible kid. Though my blood boiled, thoughts of Domino flashed in my mind.
Was there a guy? God, it was insulting. And yet, I’d been about five seconds and two millimeters from throwing caution to the wind the other day and letting Domino kiss me. For two nights, I’d dreamt about it. The way he felt, the scent of warm leather. He had an interesting face. Hard and dark. From one angle, I could have sworn he was Latino. But then, as I studied his features, I wasn’t sure. Maybe he had Native American blood. Our internet research told us the Dark Saints had roots with the Comanche tribes and Texas Rangers who founded these towns. But his eyes were pale green. They seemed to see straight through me.
“Quinn!” Noreen shouted, pulling me back to the present.
“No-no, just give me some time. All right? That’s what we agreed to. Don’t forget that you work for me.” I felt a little like an ass for reminding her, but it was true. I wasn’t a kid anymore. At twenty-one, I’d been supporting myself for eleven years, my mother too. I worked in a grown-up industry and made hard choices about my own future when most of my peers were just trying to survive junior high.
Noreen sat back and narrowed her eyes at me. “Fine. Boss. You wanna at least tell me what’s been going on out here? The Ransom kid’s been blowing off his Uncle Oliver for days. If you want to know the truth, that’s why I’m here. I was worried about you. I don’t trust that kid.”
“You know, I don’t entirely trust him either. He’s green. But he means well. And this project means as much to him as it does me. He wants to prove himself to his uncles. Which makes him risky, but determined not to fail. I’m just as determined. I believe in this project, Noreen. I’ve never felt like this about anything else I’ve ever done. It’s like ... I don’t know ... I was meant to do it. I know this character. She just leaped off the page for me. I am this character.”
“You’re a biker thug’s daughter? I don’t get it, Quinn. I mean, sure, if all the stars align, this is a great role. I get that. And if this movie is done right, it has Oscar potential. Hell, that’s the only reason I
didn’t push back harder when you said you wanted to come out here. But you need to realize, if this thing falls flat ... no ... not even falls flat. If it isn’t perfect in every aspect, it’s going to set you back in ways you can never imagine. Your career will never recover, honey.”
Cold fear snaked up my spine. It got hard to breathe. Noreen knew exactly how to play me. There had been so much turmoil in my life growing up, taking risks was hard for me. But I straightened my back.
“When’s enough going to be enough?” I said. “Twenty million, thirty million?”
“You know it’s not all about the money, Quinn. I’m talking about setting you up so you can make risky choices like this. You’re not there yet. Crosspointe wasn’t that long ago. The Night Terrors franchise has a limited shelf life. You don’t have enough box office hits under your belt for the studios to think you’re a sure bet. Jennifer Aniston can have a flop or two and still be Jennifer Aniston. Everybody knows who she is. Every generation. The daughters do. The mothers see your picture in the tabloids and still have to ask who the hell you are.”
“So you think more teen horror films are going to change that?”
“It’s a process!” she shouted. “Will you trust me? I know what I’m doing. I’ve done this dozens of times for bigger names than you, Quinn. My plan for you will work.”
“Noreen, see, that’s it. It needs to be my plan. It’s my career. And Port Azrael is where I want to be right now. The Club is the movie I want to make. Even if it fails.”
I tried a different approach. I sat on the couch next to Noreen and cupped her face between my palms. I gave her a kiss on the forehead and smiled. Tears glistened in the corner of her eyes as she put her hands over mine.
“I love you like my own kid, you brat,” she said.
“I know. And in a lot of ways you’ve been a better mother to me than my real one. I know that too. Promise. If this project falls apart, we’ll do things one hundred percent your way from here on out. Or at least for the next year or two.”
