01 - The Heartbreaker

by Carly Phillips

  When he’d walked out of the shower and into deafening silence, he knew she’d slipped out on him and cursed himself for being taken off guard. He’d pushed too hard when it came to them and she’d bolted. She had an agenda where Samson was concerned and Chase had a hunch she’d gone off to find him. Not knowing where to start his search, he’d called on Izzy and Norman, the only two people he knew of who’d had contact with Sloane today besides himself, his brother Rick, his mother, and Eric.

  Sure enough, Norman had told her of Samson’s favored hangout, something Chase hadn’t been privy to. As he entered the dive bar, inhaling the smell of stale beer and heavy smoke, and bypassing the tattooed men and their biker-chick girlfriends, he wished he didn’t know now.

  He squinted to see through the thick smoke and even thicker crowd, looking for Sloane’s white shirt in the sea of black leather jackets, or a hint of her red hair. He finally found her in the back along with the locals. Sloane had gotten herself into a pool game with a couple of old men who appeared to be teaching her the ropes. Considering the dangerous-looking bikers in the bar, these men seemed harmless enough and Chase decided to observe first before interrupting.

  Letting her mingle with these guys without him stepping in went against every instinct he possessed and he locked his hand around the cool chrome railing to make sure he stayed put. He told himself he was here because he’d promised Madeline he’d look out for Sloane, but he knew that was a lie. He was possessive and protective and not just because of a promise made to her stepmother, or those erotic sounds she made when he touched her.

  Something about this woman set off his most primal male instincts. He desired her, he wanted to protect her, and he needed to know her secrets. Not always in that order and not because she was the subject of a dicey story.

  She shifted with the cue and leaned over the table. Her shirt rose, revealing an expanse of her bare back and an enticing hint of lace peeked out from the low-slung waistband of her jeans. At least the old men teaching her were too aged to notice or care. They appeared happy to have a new pool buddy and didn’t give her femininity a second look. Chase wished he could say the same. Hell, he wished the bikers who surrounded the pool table to watch her could say the same. Even dressed down, she stood out among the women here. He shook his head, gritting his teeth so he’d feel pain and focus on something other than getting her the hell away from every other man looking at what he considered his. A completely foreign, utterly cavemanlike notion.

  Hell, he thought, running a hand over his eyes. He didn’t want to deal with these new and unnerving feelings. Not now, not ever. And considering he had a job to do here, namely watching Sloane, he didn’t have to. Besides, he wouldn’t learn anything about her agenda in Yorkshire Falls if he made a scene and dragged her home. As a reporter, he needed to be on the lookout for whatever story she was trying to hide. Chase relegated all possessive thoughts of Sloane to the farthest recesses of his mind and settled in to watch.

  She made her next shot, a difficult one no novice could make, and he realized she didn’t need the lessons the old geezers were too happy to provide. Whistles of approval echoed around the room. Chase wondered if they were caused by her prowess at pool or the way her top pulled tight over her breasts, the gold lips taking a neon purple cast under the lights.

  “Hey, Earl. It looks to me like she’s a real quick learner.” The call and accompanying laughter came from the sidelines.

  Earl shook his head and pushed back his shoulders, certain of his abilities. “No, I’m just the best teacher this place has ever seen.” He grinned and Chase realized he was missing one front tooth.

  “You’re a moron. She’s snookered you good. No man should play for cash with a lady or put up with one besting him,” a man dressed in black leather with a bandanna tied around his head said. “Samson’s a pro at working these assholes for money. Looks like you’re just like him,” he said to Sloane. “How did you say you knew him anyway?”

  Chase leaned closer, knowing he’d like an answer to that too.

  “I didn’t say. But he’s an old friend of the family, if you have to know.” But she didn’t glance back toward the sound of the man’s voice or otherwise acknowledge him in any way as she lined up her next play. This time, she missed a too-easy ball and gestured for Earl to take his turn.

  He sunk the ball and the next two after, finishing the game. She raised her hands in defeat. “You win.”

  Earl let out a whoop and accepted a pat on the back from another old guy with less teeth than Earl had. Meanwhile, Sloane dug into her pocket and pulled out a handful of wrinkled bills, tossing them onto the green velvet. “Good game, Earl. Thanks for showing me the ropes. I wasn’t taking anyone for a ride,” she called over her shoulder.

  “The lady’s calling you a fool, Dice,” another biker chimed in, laughing at his friend.

  Chase winced. Starting with these guys wasn’t a smart move.

  But toothless Earl grinned, preening at being complimented. It probably didn’t happen too often. Chase had to hand it to Sloane, she acted as if she were in her element, as comfortable here as she’d be with her senator father. She impressed him with her bravado, but he knew, even if she didn’t, the biker wasn’t going to let her just walk away. He liked what he saw for one thing, and she’d embarrassed him in front of his friends for another.

  She propped the cue on the floor and leaned against it, focusing on Earl. “You said Samson would probably be here Friday night?”

  He nodded. “He comes in ’round eight.”

  “That’s assuming he has cash in his pocket,” someone added.

  All of which sounded like Samson, Chase thought.

  “I’ll make sure you’re here to greet him on Friday,” Dice said, finally stepping out of the shadows and he wasn’t an impressive sight. He wore the standard black leather jacket, possessed too much facial hair, and sported an oversize beer belly. And he was bigger than Sloane and could snap her in two with one hand.

  Chase groaned. His time to observe was over. He straightened and strode up to the table. “The lady’s already got a date Friday night.”

  “I do?” she asked, her surprise obvious. But from the flicker of relief in her eyes, she wasn’t unhappy to see him.

  Dice grabbed the cue from her hand and threw it across the room. “Doesn’t sound like she wants to be with you, loverboy.” He edged closer, his big body taking up a hell of a lot of space. His friends huddled in, acknowledging their intent to back up their pal.

  “How’d you find me?” Sloane asked Chase in a small voice.

  “I don’t think you want to waste time talking or your buddy here is going to stake his claim.”

  “The way you just staked yours?” She glanced down, taking in the arm that he’d wrapped possessively around her shoulders. She’d started to tremble.

  Good, Chase thought. She’d finally realized she was in over her head and that realization, coupled with fear, might help him keep her from doing anything this stupid again.

  “I’m with him,” Sloane said, pointing to Chase but speaking to Dice.

  He folded his big arms over his chest and nodded. “We’re fair here.” He ignored Sloane, looking into Chase’s eyes and staring him down. “If she’s yours, I’ll back off, but seeing as how possession’s two-tenths of the law and I found her here alone, I’m gonna need some proof.”

  Chase hadn’t thought the guy had any more room, but Dice stepped into their personal space. He reeked to high hell of beer and smoke, and heaven only knew what else.

  “Is she your property or isn’t she?” Dice asked.

  Sloane’s muscles tensed beneath his fingertips. “She has a mind of her own and can speak for herself.”

  Shit.

  Dice scowled. “Five minutes on her back with me and she won’t have the energy to talk back.” He still didn’t speak directly to Sloane, addressing Chase as if he had the decision-making rights over Sloane, mind and body.

  From
behind him, Dice’s friends laughed, a menacing sound that assured the biker of backup should he need it.

  Chase dug his fingers into her shoulders and spoke. “She doesn’t usually have such a big mouth. Damn woman slipped out on me while I was taking a leak. Now that I found her, you can bet I’m going to teach her a lesson.” He wondered how that sounded for taking possession.

  Dice nodded in approval, but beside him, Sloane squirmed, obviously eager to add her two cents. He leaned in close, catching the fragrant scent of shampoo in her hair. Arousal hit him hot and hard despite their circumstances.

  His timing sucked, Chase thought, and swallowed a laugh. Still, he had to admit Sloane brought adventure to his life at a time when he’d been looking for a change. “Play nice,” he whispered so only she could hear. “Or else we’re not getting out of here without a brawl.” And he liked his body parts just fine where they were.

  “Okay,” she hissed, and he knew he’d pay later. In the meantime, she was probably grateful enough for his intervention that she’d keep quiet.

  “I hear a lot of yapping and excuses, but I ain’t seen no proof of possession.” Dice leaned a hand on the pool table. “And like I said, that’s our rule round here.” He nodded at Chase. “Prove she’s yours and me and my boys’ll make way for you.”

  Chase glanced at Sloane, who stared at him wide-eyed, obviously uncertain of what came next. He might not make places like this his main hangout, but he knew what Dice expected. He slipped his hand from Sloane’s shoulder to grab her hand, then swung her around so her back was against the pool table.

  He braced his hands on the scarred wooden edge, encircling her with his body. He smelled her scent and felt her heat. They had an audience, and damned if it didn’t arouse him even more. For the first time, she felt small and scared, backing away instead of huddling close. But he wasn’t going to hurt her, far from it. He was going to mark his territory, then get her to safety, if she considered being alone with him safe. At this point, he was so damned angry she’d put herself in this position, he barely trusted himself. But before he could worry about killing her, he had to make her his.

  He met her gaze, and when she looked into his eyes, she obviously realized his intent because fear dissolved, replaced by trust. And damn it, a hint of excitement. Desire. Lust.

  “A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do,” Chase muttered; then he sucked in a breath and lowered his mouth to hers.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Chase’s mouth felt slick and hot, and Sloane moaned at the intimate assault. She knew he was only trying to get them out of the bar without a fight, yet she’d seen the flicker of heat burning in the blue depths. He desired her and he was showing her now. He was showing the entire bar, but Sloane didn’t care.

  How could she care about anything when he took charge with complete mastery? His lips slanted over hers, first one direction, then another, his tongue making broad sweeps inside her eager mouth.

  Sloane was a woman who’d always dated men who were eager to do as she pleased and behaved with utmost decorum and respect. She was smart enough to know her father’s status had everything to do with their actions, but she’d grown used to being in charge. No man had ever dared to treat her as his property. Chase did. He took over, his movements greedy and possessive, and darned if she didn’t like this new attitude of his, enough for her to wrap her arms around his neck and kiss him back, nearly to the point of losing control herself. So much so, she was taken off guard when he broke the hot connection.

  “How’s that for proof?” he asked Dice without tearing his fiery gaze from hers.

  “Hell, man, even I could kiss her and make her melt.”

  “More like pass out,” Sloane muttered. She was sick of this disgusting man’s macho attitude.

  “I’m done taking orders from you,” Chase told the biker. “We’re out of here.” Chase grabbed Sloane’s hand, obviously intending to pull her across the bar.

  “You ain’t going anywhere. At least not with the lady.” From the menacing look in Dice’s eyes and the way his gang began to circle around him, Sloane knew they were serious.

  Her stomach clenched in pure fear. And then she looked at Chase’s harsh profile. The man might be a newspaper reporter with a soft spot for his family, but she was discovering that he wasn’t a man to mess with. Despite the danger surrounding them, Sloane felt ridiculously safe with him by her side.

  “Leave her here and I’ll show you the door myself.” Dice snickered, but Sloane didn’t find him funny.

  “I’m sick of this shit.” Chase squared his shoulders and kicked a pool cue across the floor, its rattling sound echoing in the sudden silence. “Nobody tells me when and where to mess with my girlfriend. I’m not going to kiss her again unless I’m in the mood and you’re killing mine. So get the hell out of my way.” He stepped forward with determination.

  She spared a quick glance his way. His facial expression looked as if it’d been chiseled out of hard granite. Now Sloane was scared. She didn’t want Chase getting his gorgeous face kicked in or his body hurt, thanks to Dice. Or rather, thanks to her since she’d gotten him into this bar, and this mess.

  Dice wanted proof of possession? It was time Chase gave it to him, something he’d just made clear he’d only do on his terms. Sloane intended to make sure those terms were met.

  She sidled closer to him, then slid her hands over his shoulders, feeling the hard muscle beneath his shirt. “Come on,” she whispered. “I like having an audience. It’s so . . . hot.”

  She nipped his earlobe and his body shook. She wasn’t exactly lying, since being with Chase anywhere was hot. It’s just that she’d rather be in the comfort of his home at this moment. No Dice, no threats.

  “You want hot? I’ll give you hot,” Dice said, obviously showing off for his friends.

  Chase’s hands clenched into fists at his side as he realized the big biker hung on Sloane’s every word and action, ready to pounce. On her.

  Showing patience and restraint, Chase glared, obviously debating his next move. Sloane wasn’t as content to hide her emotions. Trailing her fingers up his neck, she thread her hands in his hair, massaging his scalp with the palm of her hands. “Don’t you want me?” she asked, when she really meant, Don’t you want to get the hell out of here?

  Desperation tinged Sloane’s voice and her fingers dug into Chase’s scalp. He couldn’t react to her fear or he’d lose the upper hand with Dice.

  He met her gaze. “I want you, all right.” He spoke the truth. Chase was on the edge. On the edge of pulling Sloane away from this crowd and on the edge of taking her right here on the damn pool table.

  She had a point about the audience. Kissing her and staking his claim had a carnal, caveman sort of appeal. He’d been holding back out of respect for her, but they weren’t getting out of here unless he marked her as his.

  Something she obviously understood and was angling for, something she apparently wanted despite her fear—that is, if the excited gleam in her eyes or husky voice was any indication. And the way her fingers tugged against his scalp heightened his awareness and aroused his senses. So did the surrounding danger.

  “Then what are you waiting for?” she asked.

  He sensed Dice’s approach from behind, felt his time running out. “Good question.” He lifted her by the waist, turned back, and seated her on the edge of the pool table; then he settled himself between her legs. Even with the denim barrier, warm heat enveloped him. He recalled exactly what the moist place between her legs felt like and broke into a sweat.

  Behind him, Dice called for him to make his move, but Chase planned to go at his own pace. Lowering his head, he took his first taste of her neck. She smelled sweet and felt warm as his tongue gently lapped at her soft skin. She let out one of those moans that he loved to hear. She might kill him, but at least he’d die a happy man.

  Still, he couldn’t put things off much longer. He pulled her long, tangled hair farther away from her
flesh and blew on the moistened spot on her neck. The clapping, whistles, and catcalls surrounding them grew louder, yet for all Chase cared, they might as well have been alone. But they weren’t, and in order to get there, he had one more move to make.

  Once again, he slid his tongue over her tender flesh—once, twice—then lingered, long enough to let Dice think he was marking her in the most visible, primal way. He raised his head and pulled a dazed Sloane to her feet. Then he shrugged off his jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders, the collar and her hair covering her neck. Let Dice think what he wanted.

  “We’re out of here.” He squeezed her hand tighter and started past the biker, noticing his friends were awaiting the man’s okay before letting them through.

  A nod from Dice and the group parted, revealing a path toward the rest of the bar and the exit beyond. Chase’s relief lasted for two seconds, long enough for him to lead Sloane past the crowd. Then she paused. She jerked on his hand, causing him to stop in his tracks.

  She looked back to Dice, his buddies, and to the old men who’d resumed their game of pool as if nothing had happened to disrupt them.

  “Hey, Earl,” Sloane called out.

  Chase tensed, gripping her hand in a deathlock, knowing what was coming and powerless to stop her.

  “See you Friday.” She waved with her free hand. “And if you see Samson, tell him to be here.”

  Chase had had enough. He stormed for the front door, pulling Sloane behind him. Once safely in the vestibule, he grabbed her by the forearms. “You are insane,” he said, shaking her and letting out his frustration. “No way in hell am I letting you come back here Friday night. Not after what I had to go through to save your pretty behind this time.”

  She glanced at him, those wide eyes too big and innocent for his liking. “Thank you for the compliment.” She patted her behind, and though she tried, she couldn’t hold back a grin.