by Chiah Wilder
She looked over her shoulder. “No.” She curled her fingers around the glass.
“Where’re you from?”
“Everywhere. My pop and I moved around a lot.”
“Muerto, I need three shots of tequila, six Coors, and two gin and tonics,” Jaime said as she perched on the barstool next to the pool hustler.
“Sure thing.” Muerto turned around and grabbed the beers, then made the gin and tonics. “The guys tipping good tonight?”
“Pretty much, but those three guys stiffed me. I think they were gonna tip me but they got pissed at her”—she pointed to the woman seated next to her—“for winning the game.”
The woman swiveled until she faced Jaime. “You blaming me for getting stiffed?”
“What? No, not at all. They could’ve tipped me as they drank. I loved that you put that big mouth in his place. He’s always in here bragging about how great he is. He thinks he can beat anybody. Well… you showed him.” Jaime giggled.
When the woman smiled, Muerto’s dick jumped. He studied her face: nicely arched eyebrows, thick black lashes, a thin silver ring in her nose, and beautiful eyes. He’d never seen eyes like hers before. They were gray, but not an unremarkable gray like that of concrete or stone. They were the gray of the ocean an instant before dawn’s first rays hit the water. And when she glanced his way, they ensnared him. She turned away quickly, and he was pretty sure he piqued her interest as much as she did his. He imagined that she was a woman who wouldn’t put up with any crap from a man; a feisty woman who’d give a man a real run before she tore up the sheets with him.
She turned back around, as if sensing that he was still staring at her. “Do you want something?” A frown deepened on her forehead and her eyes turned silver, like a well-sharpened knife blade.
“Depends on what you’re willing to give me.” He leaned forward so his face was a scant few inches from hers. The scent of leather, smoke, and spice wisped around him.
She jumped off the stool and grabbed her shoulder bag. “Absolutely nothing. Thanks for the shots.” She headed to the door.
It would serve her right if I let her go out alone. “I’ll be right back,” he muttered to Crow. Army and Crow whistled as he rushed out after her. In two long strides he caught up to her.
“You don’t have to babysit me.”
“I know. I just don’t want something happening to a customer on my watch.”
“Oh,” she said.
She sounds disappointed. Maybe I got a chance of scoring after all. They walked to the parking lot, her heels clacking against the pavement. “Which car is yours?”
“The Impala.” She pointed to a black car in the far corner of the lot.
As they approached it, Muerto saw two shadows in his peripheral view. He stopped and turned. “You dudes want something?” He clenched his fists in anticipation.
Cory and his friend cleared their throats. “I lost a key around here,” Cory said as he dropped down to his knees and patted the asphalt.
“I think I found it,” his friend said. “It was in my pocket all along.” He laughed and Cory joined him as Muerto stood alert with narrowing eyes and clenched fists. “We’re good, dude. Later.” Cory and his buddy walked away.
“Thanks,” she whispered to him.
“For what?” Muerto asked.
She nodded toward the two men disappearing into the night. “For that. I owe you.” She slipped her hand in her purse and took out a keychain. The lights went on in her car when she opened the door.
“Yeah, I’d say you owe me. What about dinner tomorrow night?”
“I’m busy. I’ll stop by again and we can figure it out.”
He came up to her and pressed his body against hers, the scent from her perfume enveloping him. “You can pay me back now.”
“In a parking lot? I don’t think so.” She placed her hands on his shoulders and pushed him back, then slipped into the driver seat. “Anyway, you only helped me out of a potentially sticky encounter. You didn’t resurrect me. Maybe dinner, but that’s being generous.”
He shrugged nonchalantly, but a fire was building inside him. He wasn’t used to women telling him no or giving him attitude. “You can come back, but if I see you hustling again, I’ll throw you out on your sweet ass. That’s a promise.”
“I wouldn’t expect anything less from you.” She simulated a kiss with her full, pouty lips and then closed the car door. All he could think about was her lips around his cock and his hand on her perfectly rounded ass, spanking all the sass out of her.
After the red taillights of her car faded, he stood for a long time looking into the darkness. There was something about the smart-mouthed, tough woman hustler that drew him, and it surprised the hell out of him. He always drew the women in, and he didn’t know what to make of it.
He slowly headed back to the pool hall.
Chapter Two
Bars of prismatic light wavered against the wall as sunbeams shone through the chandelier’s crystals. Raven had fallen in love with the vintage light fixture the minute she’d seen it at the antique store. She loved the way it sparkled when the sunlight hit it, and it lent an air of elegance to her studio.
She rented the front part of a duplex that had two bedrooms and one bathroom—plenty of space for her and Sooty, her tortoiseshell alley cat. The moment she’d seen all the windows in the house, she signed the year lease and the management company handed her the keys. She knew she’d make the back bedroom a studio, and she went to work sprucing up the place with both bold and pastel shades of color.
Raven stretched her arms over her head for several seconds, then brought them down and began rolling her head around to stretch out the kinks. Sitting for three hours hunched over while making jewelry played havoc with her neck and shoulders. When she worked on an order, she usually forgot to take stretching breaks.
She picked up the necklace she’d just finished. It was a silver chain filled with eclectic charms she’d picked up at various thrift stores, garage sales, and antique stores. She made junk jewelry and, much to her surprise and delight, there was a real market for it. She’d get into her car and scour the neighborhoods in Alina and other towns in the county looking for garage sales. Used dominoes, dice, old keys, Scrabble tiles, prizes from Cracker Jacks or vending machines, marbles, scratched medals, spools of thread, buttons, and many more trinkets were the bread and butter of her business. She made charm necklaces and bracelets, earrings made out of pop tabs, refrigerator magnets from vintage jewelry, and so many other things. She’d intersperse beads and semi-precious stones with her more expensive creations, but she mostly created beautiful pieces with things people threw away.
She sold her jewelry online, at craft fairs, through word of mouth, and to some boutiques in the larger cities and towns in Colorado. Tourists loved her bracelets and keychains, and she actually made a decent living selling them. The jewelry paid her expenses and funded her first and ardent love, acrylic painting. She was able to buy canvas, brushes, paints, and sketch pads thanks to her jewelry business. She’d sold a few of her smaller paintings at a Christmas craft fair in Denver the past holiday, and she’d decided that her dream was to own an art gallery one day.
Standing, she shook out her stiff joints and went to the kitchen. She walked over to the sink and her bare feet stepped in a puddle of water. “Shit!” The last thing she wanted to deal with was a plumbing problem. She pursed her lips together and opened a drawer by the stove. Flipping through a stack of cards, she picked up her phone and dialed the management company. I hope that bitch isn’t the one to answer.
“Hello?”
This isn’t my fuckin’ day. “Hey, Deanna. This is Raven. I just stepped in a puddle of water in front of the kitchen sink.”
“Did you put something down the garbage disposal you weren’t supposed to? Remember how I gave you a list of things that can’t go in there?”
Patronizing bitch. “Didn’t put anything down there.”
&nb
sp; “Then what’s the problem?”
She gritted her teeth. “I don’t know. I’m not a plumber. Can you send someone out here to fix it?”
“I’m just trying to troubleshoot.”
“That won’t work since I don’t know crap about this. Please call the plumber and send him out.”
“I’ll have to call the owner for approval first.” She laughed. “I’ll get on it right away.”
“You do that.” Raven slipped her phone back in her shorts pocket and sat down at the kitchen table. She glanced around her small kitchen, smiling when her gaze landed on the colorful planters housing various herbs and flowers in the garden window. When she’d seen the window, she’d been thrilled. She’d always wanted one, and it seemed like it was a good sign. After she’d signed the lease, she’d gone directly to the nursery to pick out her plants. She loved the brightness and taste of basil and cilantro, and the pop of color from the begonias and geraniums made her smile every time she walked into the white kitchen.
A car backfiring made her jump, and Sooty meowed and hopped up on the table, nuzzling her face against Raven’s. “It’s okay, girl,” she said, scratching her cat under the chin. “I freaked out too.”
Raven had been jumpy since the previous night when that goon Cory got in her face about hustling him. She’d acted indignant even though the idiot had been right; she was a pool shark. “I may have overdone it last night,” she said to Sooty as she purred. “We needed the money and it was so fuckin’ easy to take it from him. The macho guys are all alike. They think a woman can’t possibly win a game.” She laughed and scooped her cat in her arms, tucking its head under her chin.
The owner of the bar wasn’t too pleased with her, but it didn’t stop him from blatantly checking her out. She threw in a few peeks at him as well, but she’d at least had the decency to not be so obvious about it. And who the hell is called Muerto? Did his mom seriously name him Death? She doubted it. His dark, intense eyes flashed across her memory. She had to admit sexiness oozed from him, and he exuded untamed masculinity and confidence. He was definitely hot, and his dark hair, strong jaw, and well-built body made her catch her breath. She loved a tatted guy, and Muerto wore his ink well. Even though all the images of demons, skulls, and daggers were a bit off-putting, the way they curled around his taut biceps and forearms was mighty fine.
His nose was a bit off center like it had been broken a couple of times, but it was overshadowed by his full sensuous lips, perfectly arched brows, and high, sculpted cheekbones. I bet he doesn’t have a shortage of women. And he knows he’s hot. He’s cocky as hell, but he had on the coolest earrings. She’d noticed them right away and was pretty sure they were handcrafted. Made of silver with turquoise and onyx accents, she’d admired the crosses and demonic skulls that had dangled from his ears.
The phone ringing stopped her musings about the pool hall’s sexy owner. “Hello?”
“You got a problem with the sink? I’m the owner of the place.”
“Oh, yeah, I do. There’s a puddle of water on the floor in front of the kitchen sink.”
His exasperated breath pricked her nerves. “Did you plug up the garbage disposal?”
“What’s up with that question? Deanna asked me the same thing. No, I didn’t plug the garbage disposal. I rarely use it. I know what I can and can’t put in it. I’m not stupid.”
A pause. “You’re kind of defensive about it, aren’t you?”
Frowning, she replied, “No I’m not. It’s just that it seems like you all keep think—”
“I’ll be over to check it out when I can,” he said gruffly, and then the phone went dead.
She held the phone to her ear, not believing that her landlord had just hung up on her. What a fuckin’ asshole! She pushed the chair back and jumped up, the sudden movement making Sooty dart away. She went to the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of root beer. Carefully taking off the top, she placed it in a large paper bag on the counter that was filled with bottle caps. She envisioned the orange and brown cap with red beads hanging down from it. Perfect for earrings. She took her drink and went back to her studio.
Right in the middle of stringing beads between several colorful religious icons, she heard her front door creak open. What the fuck? Her heartbeat raced as the hair on her nape and arms lifted. Quietly she laid down the necklace and rose from the chair. She tiptoed from the room and pressed her back flat against the wall, craning her neck to see into the small living room. She gasped and covered her mouth with her hand. Muerto stood in the middle of the room. What the hell?
She rushed into the room, sparks flashing in her eyes. “What in the hell are you doing in my house?”
His eyes widened, then a small smirk played on his lips as he shoved one hand in his jeans pocket, leaned back on his heels, and looked at her. His stare washed over her from head to toe, dripping steadily.
Self-conscious, she crossed her arms over her chest as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. All she could hear was the pounding of her heart. Fear ricocheted across her skin as a clammy sweat ran down her back. She inhaled deeply. “Well? You haven’t told me why you’re in my house.” Her voice was calm and collected, but her insides were exploding.
With his gaze fixed on her crossed arms, he clucked his tongue. “You said you had water on the floor. I came to check it out.”
Shuffling back a couple of steps, she said, “You’re the owner? That figures.”
He shook his head and raised his eyes to hers. “Well, you’re not exactly the kind of tenant I’d choose.” He started to walk to the kitchen.
“What does that mean?” She followed him.
“You figure it out.” Stopping by the sink, he looked around the kitchen. “What the fuck did you do in here?”
“What is it with you and your management company asking me that fuckin’ question? I didn’t do anything except come in here and step into a puddle of water. Why is that so hard to understand? Am I missing something here?”
His gaze traveled up from her bare feet to her face. He pressed his lips together. “You got a real mouth on you.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m not sure what’s gonna get you in the most trouble—your sass, attitude, or hustling.” He bent down and opened the cupboard under the sink. He felt around the pipes, then straightened up. “You need a plumber.” He brushed past her.
“Are you for real?”
He looked over his shoulder, his eyes dancing with amusement. “You know I am. And earlier, I was asking you what the fuck you did to the kitchen walls. You painted them yellow without my permission.”
“They were white and boring.” She scratched her arm as his gaze bored into her. “What? Do you want me to repaint them?”
“I want you to ask permission next time you want to change shit around here. You’re lucky I like women with round asses and nice tits.”
Her hand flew to her chest as her eyes widened. “How rude. Who do you think you are?”
“Your landlord.” He pointed to Sooty, who was rubbing against her legs. “I also don’t allow pets. Didn’t Deanna tell you?”
“No, and it’s not in the lease.”
His lip curled. “When renewal comes along, I’ll have to fix that.”
“Don’t bother. I highly doubt I’ll be renewing.” Her chest rose up and down. “And next time ring the fuckin’ doorbell. You don’t have a right to just come in here when you want.”
He stiffened visibly and she saw him clench his fist. “I do whatever the fuck I want, sweetheart. Just remember that.” A tense silence filled the space between them as they stared at each other until his phone pinged. Glancing at it, he said, “I’ll send the plumber out.” He strode out of the house and down the walkway.
She went over and slammed the door, hoping she’d break the amber glass in it, but she wasn’t having much luck that day—the window didn’t even shake. She looked out and saw him on his Harley. He turned to her and flashed a cocky smile, then revved his engine an
d sped away. As she watched him ride off, she noticed how broad his shoulders were. Ugh! I can’t believe that jerk is my landlord. Clenching her teeth, she stalked to the kitchen and pulled out one of the drawers. Flipping through numerous business cards, she smiled widely when she found the one she’d been looking for—Dave’s Lock & Key. She dialed the number.
“I need someone to come out here and rekey my locks.”
By the time she’d hung up the phone, she had it all set up to change the locks on her front and back door. She picked up Sooty and ran her hands over the cat’s soft fur. “He’s not the only one who does what the fuck he wants.” Sooty purred as Raven stroked her, satisfaction coursing through her veins.
Chapter Three
The sweltering heat encased Muerto as he rode past the businesses on Main Street. The trees that lined each side of the road stood mute in the summer air. He sped past telephone poles that dotted the dry landscape on his way to the clubhouse. The earth was baked as hard as concrete, and the cracks that zigzagged on it were like wrinkles on an old face. Rain had been sparse that summer, and the usual wildflowers that lent a punch of color to the landscape were in short supply.
The summer sun beat upon his back, forcing beads of sweat down his neck. In the distance, reddish-brown rock with patches of green pines loomed, their craggy peaks absent of the snow they sported most of the year. Muerto pushed his black skull bandana closer to his hairline. I can’t believe the pool hustler with the cute ass is my tenant. His chest shook as he laughed. If she fucks the way she moves, this could be a lot of fun. He had no doubt that she’d end up in his bed, as most women did. He hadn’t been blind to the way she checked him out the previous night at the pool hall, and a woman who ran her eyes over a man’s body was a woman who wanted that man. That’d always been his motto, and the number of women who’d enjoyed his sexual skills over the years had reinforced it.
As he slowed down to take a sharp turn, he heard his phone ringing. Knowing it could be one of the brothers, he made the turn and then pulled over. A brother had to always be available if there was a club emergency or a member needed his help. He glanced at the number and saw it was his sister. For a split second he debated on whether he should answer it before he placed the phone to his ear.
