“Just ask her out or go in the back and get it on with her. Anything. Your ass is about to get canned if you don’t man up and work like you’re being paid to.” Sting was right, the kid had a crush on Viper and needed to quit the daydreaming and make that shit a reality.
“If it were only that easy, man.”
Sting stared at Xander. Was this kid for real? “How old are you? Twenty-five? Twenty-six?”
Xander laughed. “I wish. Older than you think. I’m thirty.”
Sting jerked his head back, looking the man over, in total disbelief. “Bullshit.”
“No bullshit, dude. I’ve aged well.”
“Then what the fuck? You’ve obviously had your dick wet before. So, why the shy shit with Viper?”
“It’s not like that. You ever feel like you’ve met someone before and you can’t place it? A kind of déjà vue?”
Sting’s brows shot up, lips pressed together as he debated. “Yeah, I’ve had that before.”
“She looks familiar is all, I’m intrigued by her. Nothing more.”
“Piece of advice then? Get intrigued by the job, so you can keep it and get to know her better.” Sting winked at Xander, turning to make his way back through the crowd and to the bar, where Durty was.
She’d ignored him all night. For a couple of days, as a matter of fact. He’d been busy at work and she was busy showing properties and helping get Domino ready for opening. They text, but that was about it. It was as if she was growing distant, that all they had was a two-day fling. That wasn’t acceptable in his eyes.
She wasn’t a fuck buddy or a Shade, and wasn’t going to be treated as such. Sting wanted Durty in his life and he was going to ensure she was. He’d told her payback was a bitch, and well, it was payback time.
Motioning for the DJ to play the song he requested, Sting planted his palms against the bar and hoisted himself up on it. Placing his thumb and pointer into his mouth, a shrill whistle was emitted, getting everyone’s attention, including Durty.
“My life was changed in this bar, a little over a month ago. A beautiful lady got up on this bar and danced for me. Then,” Sting grinned, motioning to Durty. “Then, this amazing woman gave me a phone number, to the infamous Jenny to the tune of eight-six-seven-five-three-oh-nine. That made it a challenge, which I accepted. Now, I’m going to return the favor to her.”
Lace groaned and looked over at Steel, who’d propped himself up on a stool in the corner. He said something to her, and she rolled her eyes and leaned into his side.
Candy Shop, by 50 Cent, blared through the speakers. It must’ve been a great idea, because the women in the club went wild, yelling and clapping as Sting began to rotate his hips in a slow and provocative way.
Durty looked like she was about to panic and flee, Stiletto holding her in place, screaming along with the other women. Not exactly the reaction he’d been looking for.
Screw this. He had to do something to regain her interest. Off with the shirt! Tossing it to the side, Sting moved on the bar like he was a sex god in a hair metal video during a Chip ‘n Dale’s performance.
The women in the club were going nuts, dollar bills landing on the bar as he pumped and thrust his hips around, sliding to the bar top on his knees, suggestively spreading them and laying back, allowing his hair to whip around.
It was working, Durty laughed and shook head, burying her face in her hands as the sisters cajoled her.
Sting rolled over onto his knees, cat crawling his way to the area that Durty was at. Swinging his legs out from under him, he sat on the edge of the bar, planting the heels of his boots against the handle of the cooler. Lifting his hips, Sting propped himself on one hand while his body undulated in a wave. His hand stroked down his body, until he held it out to Durty.
Chapter 29
I’m Movin’ On
Durty felt like she was about to pass out. It wasn’t every day the guy the guy making her fall in love jumped up on a bar, in front of God and every female in the place, and danced a form of striptease.
Her sisters had a field day. It had been a while since anyone really let their hair down and just had some fun, and Sting was providing that at the moment, at Durty’s expense.
When he extended his hand to her, Durty grabbed it, yanking him off the bar top. Pulling him to the corner of the bar, she swatted his arm while he pulled his t-shirt back on. “Really? Did you have to do that?”
Sting winked at her, his smile infectious. “Yeah, I did. It got you smiling and laughing.”
“Great, thank you. But here?” Durty groaned, glancing over her shoulder at the twins who were jabbing one another with their elbows, blowing kissy faces at her.
“You’ve ignored me the whole week, Durty. At least I have your attention now.”
The hurt was clear in his voice, and and wanted to sooth it away, but they both needed a reality check. They’d never work out. The only thing they had in common was the club and sex. “I’m not doing this here, Sting.”
“Doing what?” Sting moved toward her, his brows bunching together.
Durty shook her head, her ponytail swinging with the movement. “This.” She motioned between their two bodies. “It was great while it lasted, but think about it, Sting. We come from two different worlds.”
It killed her to admit it out loud, but it needed to be done. Her stomach twisted in knots and she felt like she was going to throw up, the bile burning the back of her throat. Her eyes stung, forcing her to look away from him to the floor, wanting to hide the tears that threatened to fall.
“No.”
No? What the hell was he talking about? She hadn’t asked a question. Durty had made a statement. “Excuse me?” She lifted the brown eyes to search the pale blue of his own.
“There’s no excuse, Durty. You’re running. You’re using your past because you’re afraid to actually love someone. All the bullshit you fed me? Was it a lie?”
Feeling like he’d slapped her across her face, Durty blinked several times before she could muster her voice. “Bullshit? What are you talking about?”
“That you wanted to live your life by your rules. That your father didn’t own your ass any more, that the club was your life now.” His voice lashed out at her over the sound of the music beating through the bar.
“I meant every word of that.” Durty moved away from him, heading toward the kitchen. She didn’t want him seeing the tears sliding down her cheeks. She knew she was about to look a mess, knowing leaving him was going to be one of the hardest things she’d ever do in her life.
Walking away didn’t make much difference, since he followed her right into the humid kitchen.
“Don’t walk away from me, Durty.” His face was turning red with anger, his eyes flashing like lightning bolts.
Spinning around on the linoleum floor, her arms flew out, yelling at him. “What the hell do you want from me? Huh?”
“How about the fucking truth for once? You preached to me about lying, and yet here you are, spreading some pretty thick bullshit, if you ask me.”
“I didn’t ask you, did I?”
Durty gasped in surprise when he grabbed her by her biceps, drawing her close to him. “I’m getting real fucking tired of this seesaw of emotions, Durty. One minute you’re fine, the next, you’re acting like a child who’s done with a toy and is tossing it aside. I don’t do games, and if this is all it was, then you can go to hell. I will not have my emotions played with any more.”
Durty opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Tears slid down her cheeks instead. Tearing her eyes away from his, so laced with hurt, she knew if she lied, he’d know it. She loved him. Hell, she was in love with him. She didn’t want Sting having to try and deal with her father and his high society ideals. Sting didn’t own a business, didn’t graduate from college, wasn’t rich. No, it didn’t matter to her, but her father bankrolled her business, and he could pull out before it was completely paid off if he
found out she was so-called slumming.
What a tangled web she weaved.
“Answer me one fucking thing, Durty,” he growled through gritted teeth.
“What?” Durty choked out, afraid to look into his eyes.
“You will look at me.” He released his hold on one of her arms to grasp her chin, forcing her head to turn back toward him. “Look at me, Durty. Now.”
Her eyes clenched shut, not wanting to see the devastation by the look on his face. When he ordered her to open them, she did, allowing her tears to fall freely. “What?” She was tired of fighting, tired of crying, tired of always running.
“Did you lie when you said you loved me?”
****
“She’s coming around.”
“What the fuck happened?”
“I don’t know, she answered the phone and fainted.”
Durty kept her eyes closed as Lace and Sting talked. She didn’t want them to know she was awake, that her heart was breaking, and she was rapidly losing the will to keep going.
He’d asked her if she loved him. She was seconds away from lying and tearing his heart to pieces, when her phone rang. It was her father’s house number.
Her father had passed away.
That news, on top of arguing with Sting, shot her blood pressure through the roof, and everything went black.
Her father was invincible. She couldn’t believe he was gone. She always believed he’d out live her. Now, she was the only Simons left to carry on the family line.
“She’s awake.”
Damn, Viper!
Stirring on the couch, Durty let her eyes flutter open, angrily wiping at the tear that gave her away. Just great, everyone but Xander was in the office. She must’ve made a spectacle out of herself.
Sting was clear across the room, standing by the door with his arms folded over his chest. He was totally unreadable. His face was void of any emotion, making Durty nervous.
Drawing in a long, shaky breath, Durty cleared her throat before she spoke. “It was nothing. I’m okay.”
She looked at the faces staring back at her, each one reacting the same way—total disbelief.
“Someone go grab the air freshener. I smell a load of bullshit.” Lace stared pointedly at Durty with her hands on her hips.
Steel laid his arm on Lace’s shoulder, pointing a finger at Durty. “People don’t just faint when they’re okay.”
“Or cry,” Viper chipped in.
“Or look like shit,” Stiletto said next with a half-formed grin.
“Or look like they’re shaking like a leaf,” Stellar slurred. “Did you steal some of my script?”
Durty rolled her eyes with a shake of her head, looking away from the group. “It’s not that big of a deal, okay? Damn.”
Lace’s cough was mixed with laughter. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re trying to sell, Durty; but I’ve known you for way too long. You’re so full of shit. What was the call, or do I need to get into your phone and find out myself? You’ve been acting like a bitch for a couple of days. I figured getting laid regularly would’ve cured the PMS, but with how you’re acting? Makes me wonder if Sting is packing any meat.” Lace glanced over her shoulder in Sting’s general direction. “No offense.”
Sting lifted a hand with a shrug. “None taken.”
“My dad died, okay?” Durty couldn’t keep the malice out of her voice, angry Lace was pushing her for the information she didn’t want to face. If she didn’t say it, then it wasn’t true. Right? It was a childish way of looking at it, but no matter how much her father was an ass, she’d always be a daddy’s girl.
“Oh shit,” Lace said in a near breathless whisper. “How?”
Durty looked up, licking her dry lips. Viper and Stiletto moved over to her, one sitting on either side of her, wrapping her up in their arms. Sting looked as if he were ready to explode. He’d started to move to her, but the twins beat him to the punch. “Sinclair isn’t sure. He was fine until a week ago. He said he started not feeling good. The doctor couldn’t find anything wrong with him. He brought him his afternoon tea today and Dad wouldn’t wake up.”
“Jesus.” Lace shook her head. “I figured that old fart would live to be about ninety. I’m so sorry, Durty.”
“If there is anything the Rojas can do to help, Durty, just say the word,” Steel said for the men in the room with them.
“I have to go to the house tomorrow and take care of everything. I appreciate it, Steel, I really do.” Durty swallowed hard, laying her head on Viper’s shoulder.
“I’ll take her tomorrow. She doesn’t need to be alone,” Sting said, stepping toward the group. “I’ll text the boss and let him know.”
Steel nodded. “Why don’t you take her home now? She doesn’t need to be here.”
“I agree. Fenix will be here in thirty minutes. She can cover the bar.” Lace glanced at her watch then to everyone else. “Okay, break time is over. This bar isn’t going to run itself and I don’t trust Xander to be left alone for much longer.”
Viper snorted after she kissed Durty on the cheek. “Yeah, he might have shit himself.”
Stiletto followed suit with the kiss, laughing. “Are you sure you’re not putting Visine in his drinks, Viper?”
“Dude.” Viper looked to her sister with excitement. “I so didn’t think of that one. I’ll try that out tomorrow.”
Chapter 30
Numb
Sting still asked himself what the hell he was doing. He was about to drop her like a hot potato when she got the call that had her ass hitting the floor. One thing he couldn’t stand were games—or in particular, head games, and she was playing them like a queen.
No one understood the weight of his death, until she revealed exactly who her father was. He’d been privy to that information days ago, but her club sisters hadn’t. It seemed Lace was the only one who knew how much Durty’s father was worth.
This guy didn’t know the definition of struggle.
And Durty walked away from it without a second glance.
Or had she?
It felt like she needed her father’s approval for things, which was why she was playing games with him. Talk about—what did she call it? Policy of truth? It appeared she only liked telling the truth when it suited her.
Yet, here he was, sitting next to her in the funeral home, waiting for the director to come and walk her through the motions for the preparation to bury him.
Yeah, he was a glutton for punishment. Funny the shit he’d do for the woman he was in love with.
Trying to get Durty up this morning was a feat. She threw the covers back over her head and muttered some obscenity at him. He finally had enough and grabbed a large glass of ice water, yanked the covers back and threw it on her. That got her moving.
Now here she was with puffy, red eyes from a night of crying, and a fist full of tissues—and she still managed to reek of elegance and class. The two-carat tear-dropped diamond solitaire that graced her slender neck accentuated the crystal embroidered black knee length vintage Dior dress. The only reason he knew what brand it was, was she asked him to zip her up and he saw the label. Her heels were black and strapped around her ankle with bright red soles, showing off her shapely legs. He couldn’t fathom the price tag that came on those.
Given who her father was and the scruples she went through that morning, making sure she was dressed in a way her father would deem appropriate, must’ve been a hefty one. Hell, her outfit was worth more than he could make in a year. It was as if she morphed into another person altogether. Someone way more reserved than the woman he was used to. Sting knew she was his Durty. She looked like his Durty, but everything about the woman physically sitting next to him in the funeral parlor was Tamra Simons.
Sting felt like a pauper. He was in a simple pair of jeans, boots, and a long-sleeved black button down with a red tie. The only reason he had that? He borrowed it from Steel. Perks of
knowing someone the same size as you.
He reached over, dislodging her hand from committing homicide on a tissue. Cupping the now seeming frail appendage with his own, Sting’s thumb traced over the top of her hand. “I know that hearing sorry for your loss is redundant, but I am.”
Long lashes fluttered in silent response, her glazed eyes coming into focus. Turning her head in a robotic fashion, Durty blinked slightly as she gave his hand a squeeze. “I know. I’m just…” She sighed and rolled her eyes, shaking her head at the same time.
Pain resonated on her face, making his heart ache. He wished he knew a way to help ease her hurt, but he felt so ill equipped when it came to emotional help. “You don’t need to explain. I get it.”
“He was a bad man, Brett.” Durty turned to face him again, her features strained from what he could only assume were painful memories.
Sting almost visibly flinched at the use of his proper name, knowing at that moment he was still in the doghouse. “We’re all bad in our own way.”
Sniffling, she wiped at her eyes, a sardonic laugh bubbling out from her. “Don’t get me wrong. I loved my father, no matter what a raging prick he was. I’ll always be a daddy’s girl, that’ll never change, dead or alive. He worked hard to get where he was, but he expected more out of me than I was willing to give. When I didn’t provide what he wanted or expected? There was hell to pay.
“God, I remember this one time; I was in the ninth grade. I was working my ass off in school, all honors courses. I was doing around eight hours of homework a night. The standing rule was to be in bed by eight thirty with homework done. He’d always come check on me, like clockwork. I’d get back up when he’d leave my room and finish my work. Sometimes, I’d be up until two or three in the morning.
“This particular night was one of those nights. I’d just got into bed, about three. My dad came busting into my room, drunk off his ass, pissed off at me because I forgot to take out the trash. He dumped the trash can on me, in my bed. I woke up, not sure what the hell was going on, him screaming at me about taking out the trash.
Policy of Truth (Sacred Heart Continuum Series Book 1) Page 20
