Devil's Property: The Faithless MC

by Claire St. Rose

I turned back to Hannah. “And some fries too. And two beers.”

  Without another word, Hannah bounded off to the bar. I turned back to Sasha, who was giving me a blank look.

  “Maybe I don’t like beer,” she said.

  I smiled. “But I already know that you do.”

  She cocked an eyebrow at me and leaned a little closer. “How could you possibly know that?”

  I shrugged. “It’s a talent. You read people, I know whether they like beer or not.”

  Her face split with laughter, and she pulled off her sweater and hung it over the back of the chair. The t-shirt underneath was tight across her tits and a little bit disheveled from the journey. Damn, it looked good.

  A couple regulars waved at me, and I nodded at them. When I looked back at Sasha, she was watching me with interest. “You seem like you’re well liked around here,” she noted. “I can’t decide whether you’re a drunk or a pool shark.”

  I laughed. “Pool shark.”

  “Would’ve been better if you were a drunk.” She delivered the line with such deadpan sincerity that I nearly broke down into a fit of laughter but managed to suppress it. She was a new breed of woman for me. I was used to girls like Hannah who didn’t have much up top.

  Hannah came back with our beers and clunked them down onto the wooden table. She had gone all sour in the face. I could only imagine Jada had something to do with it. She wasn’t much for gossip or stupidity, and Hannah had both in spades. I could almost picture Jada chewing the young girl out for whatever nasty things she went back and said about Sasha.

  I smiled at Hannah anyway as she left. Sasha was looking at me incredulously over her beer when I put my attention back to her.

  “That girl has it bad for you. I assume you know that.” She sipped daintily.

  “I know.” I laughed. “The whole bar knows. But that’s a path I’m going to stay away from.”

  Sasha opened her mouth to speak, but a booming voice from the direction of the kitchen door interrupted her. “Zane goddamn Pendleton! How the fuck are you?” Jada swaggered out from the kitchen, her dark springy curls tucked up into her chef’s cap. Her apron was covered in God knows what but I got up and hugged her anyway, giving her a good smack on the back.

  “How’s it going, Jada?” I smiled and turned to Sasha with an extended arm. “This is my friend, Sasha.”

  Jada smiled and planted her hands on her bodacious hips, looking down at Sasha. “Honey, I hope you didn’t come here to play pool with him. He’ll have you beat before you even take your first shot.”

  Sasha laughed. “One of these days I’ll score the drunk instead of the pool shark.”

  Jada gave an approving look and turned back to me. “Haven’t seen you around recently. You don’t like us anymore?”

  I shook my head. “Busy with club business. I’m here now, though.”

  Jada patted me on the arm as she turned to leave. “I gotta get back to my kitchen, but can you tell Kevin he owes me twenty bucks?”

  “Sure thing.”

  And just like that, Jada was gone again. I resumed my seat and looked at Sasha, who had a faint smile on her lips. “I like her,” she said.

  I nodded and took a gulp of beer. “I do too. And she cooks the best food in the state.”

  “So how good at pool are you then?”

  I smiled down at my beer. How many hours had I spent here, hustling a few dollars into my pocket in the hopes that I’d soon have enough to leave New Orleans? When my dad was out, it seemed like the only way to get money on the sly. Now I had access to all the club’s funds and my dad’s business. I could easily get out of here on their dime. Not that I ever would, but the temptation called to me too often for my comfort.

  If only I could figure out where the hell I would even go.

  “I’m the regional amateur champion,” I said. “So pretty damn good.”

  She took another drink of her beer and looked down at me through her long, spidery lashes. “Only regional? Pfft.”

  “Tell me about what you’re good at,” I challenged. “Psychology and anthropology and all that jazz.”

  She began to talk, and I lost track of time. As she told me all about what she’d specialized in for her undergrad, and what she was hoping to specialize in for her masters, I was hypnotized. It wasn’t that I particularly cared about the topics that she touched on or delved into, but the way she spoke about them was absolutely enthralling. She had passion, so much of it that I wasn’t sure if I’d ever seen anyone care so deeply about anything.

  That probably said more about me and the life I’d been living than her, but it stood. And I wanted it. I wanted her. I wanted the passion that she had for myself. If I felt that way about running the club, my life would be so much easier.

  It didn’t escape my notice, either, how flushed with excitement she was while she talked. I wondered how she would look in the throes of another kind of passion—a darker kind of passion. Would she quiver with delight while I plunged into her? Would her eyes fill with the same bright expression while I made her cum over and over again?

  God, I had to find out.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Sasha

  I wasn’t sure I’d ever found a better listener than Zane. It was strange because most guys as hot and popular as him had an ego that demanded to be tended to. I’d been on more than a few dates in my day, but he was the only one who had ever listened to me blabber for so long and seemed to actually like it. Not tolerate it, but like it. He asked questions, he made comments, he laughed at all the right times. And he didn’t once look bored.

  That was kind of the curse of being able to read people. I could always tell instantly if someone was just pretending to be interested in what I was saying. For that reason, I tended to have few friends. I wasn’t a total loner, but I also wasn’t willing to put up with regularly having to censor myself just to avoid seeing how much my friends hated what I was talking about.

  Not that I was always boring! I didn’t talk about my research unless prompted, usually. You’d be surprised how often people zone out during even just regular conversations about regular stuff. People don’t actually care much about what other people have to say. Nine times out of ten they ask someone how they are just to be asked that question in return so they can talk about themselves. Even people, who say they don’t like to talk about themselves, love to talk about themselves. That’s just facts. It’s not a bad thing. It’s human. We’re stuck inside our own heads all day—why wouldn’t we think the things that are going on there are the most interesting things in the world?

  But when you can’t see the boredom on your friend’s face as you talk about your weekend, it’s fine. But I could almost always tell. Like I said, I couldn’t read everybody. I didn’t have a superpower or anything; I was just able to pick up the minutiae of people’s expressions and gestures, their tiny shifts in body language.

  But Zane didn’t look bored. He looked fascinated. Either he was putting on a really good show, or he genuinely liked hearing about my study. It was the most incredible thing.

  We drank all of our beers and then one more. I was feeling quite buzzed by then, both from the booze and the elation of having such a good time. With a super hot guy, no less! What more could a girl want in life?

  “I want to see your pool skills,” I said. “Why don’t we see if you’re actually any good? We can call it a social experiment.”

  He laughed; a dark and chocolatey sound that rumbled over me. I shivered.

  “Your funeral, flower girl.”

  We rose from the table, and he grabbed a set of balls from behind the bar, setting them up at the pool table closest to us. I wasn’t the best pool player, but I wasn’t the worst. I already knew that he was likely every bit as good as Jada had said he was, but I thought it would be fun to see it for myself. And I wanted to move the conversation onto something a little more physical. Maybe I would transition it later into something even more physical.

  Z
ane handed me a pool cue. “Who do you want to break?”

  I pointed my cue at him. “Go for it.”

  He leaned over the table, lined up his shot, and sent the cue ball spinning down to the other end.

  I sunk the first ball. Stripes. He made a solid shot right after, though I suspected he could have easily gotten a second one on the same shot. He was taking it easy on me. He was letting me win. I frowned at him when he missed and hit one of my balls, but he simply gave me an apologetic shrug.

  “Maybe I’m not that good after all,” he said cheekily.

  I glared, and we continued. Hannah brought us both another beer. I wondered if she spat in mine but drank it anyway. I was feeling very thirsty tonight.

  I found it kind of charming actually that he let me win at pool. Or was letting me win, at least. I supposed he could ramp it up toward the end and come out on top, but that didn’t seem like his style. And it was the style of lots of guys. I’d been out on dates with guys who had been so determined to win at whatever they'd taken me to do, that they basically forgot about me. I generally stayed away from batting cages, mini golf, arcades, and any other competition-inducing first date option.

  But Zane had grace and humor in spades. It was nice.

  We were nearing the end of the game when I first saw her. I took a break to excuse myself for the restroom, and in the hallway, I passed a girl with long, red hair and fiery eyes. She glared at me the entire time we passed, and for a moment, I felt like I was in slow motion. I deduced that the only people who knew me enough to hate me here were the girls, like Hannah, who had been or wanted to sleep with Zane. This girl, whoever she was, exuded more hostility than a cat in a bath.

  I tried to forget about her as I used the restroom. It wasn’t my fault that the guy who’d brought me out was apparently a popular guy. Maybe it should have bothered me, but I didn’t get the feeling he’d brought me here to rub it in my face. In fact, the only woman he’d given the time of day with had been the chef, Jada, but she clearly wasn’t jonesing for Zane in the way that hallway girl was.

  I also tried not to let Hallway Girl undermine my confidence, but it was hard. She was beautiful. I’d seen her for less than a second and had her image burnt into my brain: long legs, red hair, creamy alabaster skin. The small part of me that was petty and emotional wished never to see her again. I couldn’t compete with that.

  And hell did I want to compete. The longer I spent with Zane, the less I even wanted to talk to another man in my life. He was so hot and so funny, but in an understated way that was as charming as it was clever. I could tell that underneath his hulking alpha male exterior there was a smart man filled to the brim with curiosity. And it was making me feel all jittery inside.

  When I left the restroom, I smiled at Zane as I approached him. He had eyes only for me, sipping his beer and watching my path across the floor. I made up my mind at that moment that I would just go up and kiss him. I wanted him. He wanted me. It was simple, right? I would just walk across the room, put my hands around his neck, and pull him down for a kiss that would take both of our breaths away.

  But before I could reach him, another person stepped into my line of sight. It was Hallway Girl. What the hell was she doing intercepting me when I was clearly on a mission? We stopped at the table at the same time, except I was next to my beer and she was next to Zane, whom she leaned up to and kissed on the cheek.

  “Thanks for the flowers,” HG said silkily. She turned to me, and it was the first time I noticed that there was a black rose tucked behind her ear. I gritted my teeth. It took everything in me not to tell her exactly who had painted those roses that she seemed to think were some sort of romantic gesture. She was a woman in grief. It wouldn’t be fair for me to slip so low just to satisfy my bruised ego.

  Zane smiled tightly at her but didn’t allow her to stay close. His body language was rigid, uncomfortable. HG must have picked up on it too because she began to slide away from him, toward me.

  “I’m Asa,” she practically crooned. “He used to be mine, and he’ll be mine again. In the meantime, don’t ask about his dark secret, and you’ll be fine.”

  There was no lie there. I sensed bitterness instead. Whatever Zane’s dark secret was, this Asian girl wasn’t fond of it either. Perhaps it had even pushed them apart because it was clear as day they’d been lovers once too. Once she was finished, she glided past me in a cloud of stale cigarette smoke and beer breath, eventually dissolving back into the crowd. I turned to Zane and furrowed my brow.

  “What was that about?”

  “She was drunk,” he replied, leaning over the table and taking his next shot. He spent far too long lining it up.

  “I could see that.” More like I could smell it. “But what’s this dark secret?”

  Asa had told me not to ask about it so, of course, I was going to. I was smart but as predictable as any other curious person. I doubted Zane would have done differently.

  He shook his head and took the shot, his ball banging off the opposite edge and knocking two others into the middle pocket. It was impressive.

  “It’s nothing for you to be concerned about.”

  So it existed. Great. And now he’d closed off on me. His face was blank, his movements almost mechanical. All the tension in his body had been stowed away somewhere, and I couldn’t pick up on anything.

  I tried another tactic. “So she’s your ex, huh?” I laughed, hoping it didn’t sound as forced as it felt. “She seems nice.”

  This earned me a brief, choked laugh. He rose to his full height and walked over to me, palming me the pool cue I’d left leaning on the table in front of me. “I don’t have any dark secrets,” he said. “She’s just very jealous. I would take it as a compliment.”

  I took the pool cue from him and lined up my shot, but I wasn’t finished yet. Either Zane actually believed he didn’t have a dark secret or he was too good of a liar for me to pick up on because Asa had truly believed he had a dark secret. I wasn’t sure what a girl like that would consider a dark secret, but I was willing to trust Zane enough that it probably wasn’t anything disgusting. More like I was willing to trust Asa’s big mouth enough. Other people at the billiards hall obviously knew about this dark secret or had heard about it at some point from Asa’s fat drunken mouth. But they all still liked him. How bad could it possibly be?

  I sunk one of my balls and rose, circling the table to take my next shot. My brain was whirring. This was the most interesting date I’d ever been on. There was mystery, a hard-to-read super hot biker, and a little bit more mystery. Maybe this wouldn’t do for everyday life, but hell having a date like this every once and awhile would keep me on my toes.

  Before I pulled back for my next shot, I looked up and made eye contact with Zane. “What was with the black roses?”

  He moved around the table much faster than I figured a guy his size could. Grabbing my hand, he began pulling me along behind him to the other end of the room. I nearly took my pool cue with me I was so surprised. I managed to drop it by the table as we left, looking behind me to see if anyone cared that we were just abandoning the table. The bar’s patrons didn’t even seem to notice. Hannah and another couple of waitresses were looking over at me with an expression that could have only been jealous and want. What the hell was going on? My heart was beating so hard in my chest that I felt it might explode. His hand on mine was hot, firm. I couldn’t have shaken off his grip if I tried, but I didn't want to. Something had sprung to life inside of me the moment he grabbed me, and I was willing and eager to see how this played out.

  I shouldn't have been. I should have objected to being hauled around like a doll, pulled this way and that, and ignored when I spoke. But I got the strangest feeling about Zane as we walked through the hall. He wasn’t trying to shut me up. I was going somewhere where I would get answers, though I had a suspicion that something else would come first. There were waves of frustration and lust rolling off of him, buffeting me as I trailed in hi
s wake. He was pissed about that girl and he wanted me. Two things that I could reciprocate.

  The same back hallway that led to the restrooms had another door off it, one marked “PRIVATE.” Zane produced a key from a collection in his pocket and unlocked the door, guiding me inside once he had it open.

  It looked like a private lounge. Zane flicked on the lights, but even that did little to light up the gloom. I wondered about when it was last used. There was a tiny bar in the corner, and a little stage off to one side. A few tables and couches dotted the room in no discernable pattern, and everything was in shades of royal purple and gold. It was the tackiest place I’d ever seen in my life.

  I turned to ask Zane what we were doing there just in time to see him close and lock the door behind him.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Zane

  I was predictable. I’d always been predictable, as long as you knew where to look. Sasha said she had a hard time figuring me out, but I was probably the easiest of people to figure out. That didn’t mean anyone had yet, to my knowledge, but they were looking in all the wrong places. It wasn’t my expressions, my tone, or my body language that betrayed me—it was my actions.