I sat Reeve down at one of the black leather bar stools and waited until the bare-chested bartender that looked like he should be on a billboard selling something unnecessary to rich people handed her a drink. I saw the door to Nassir’s office swing open, so I bent forward and pressed my lips to the back of her head.
“Sit tight. I’ll be back in a second.” I stiffened for a second before remembering we had an audience when she swiveled around and touched her lips lightly to mine. It wasn’t really a kiss; just a touching of mouths, but it was still enough to have my pulse thundering and my cock tightening.
“Hurry back.” Her voice was singsongy and full of amusement. I grunted and made my way over to where the dark-haired club owner was lurking in his office doorway.
Nassir was several inches shorter than me and his build hovered on the slender side but none of that tricked me into thinking he wasn’t a threat. His eyes burned a strange bronze color that seemed almost unnatural and there was an otherworldly chill that always seemed to surround him. He was equal parts deadly and sophisticated and I never knew what was going on in his head. He was an ice-cold operator and not someone I would ever trust or be fooled into thinking was on my side. Nassir cared about one thing and that thing was Nassir. He was his own agenda and that made him pitiless and merciless when it came to the way he handled his business.
“How does Bax feel about you cozying up to her?”
He didn’t beat around the bush. “I haven’t given him the chance to tell me how he feels yet.”
“She sold Dovie out. She was in Novak’s pocket. How does that work for you, cop?”
“I don’t have to like her to fuck her.” The words left a bitter taste in my mouth because they were too close to the truth I was struggling with.
Nassir laughed a little and it scraped across my skin like razors. “Yes, you do. There’s a reason you’re with her and a reason you brought her here. I bet there’s also a reason that one of my girls got cut up and tossed on the dock like trash. If I was a betting man, which we both know I am, I would wager it has something to do with the fact she looked a lot like your new piece of ass.”
I felt my shoulders stiffen as I glowered down at him. “Why was your girl on the docks that night? You send her out there to meet a client? No one goes into that part of town without a reason.”
His glinting eyes shifted up to me and I had to force myself not to look away. He really could be one scary motherfucker.
“I already told you she wasn’t working that side of things. She was just a kid. She danced and that was it. Chuck walked her out the night before she was found and he said she got in her car—alone. Just like she always did. You can keep asking and you’ll keep getting the same answers. What about you, cop? Why do I think you and this girl mean more than you’re sharing?”
“It’s not my job to share with the criminal underground, Nassir.”
“It is if you don’t want to be in the way when I do your job for you. If you can’t find the guy, I bet if I got your new girl involved, I could draw him out.”
“No one is doing anything.” I bit the words out and gave him a hard look to let him know I didn’t like him even thinking about messing with Reeve.
“We’ll see about that. It looks like your girl is about to get into something all on her own.”
I pivoted just in time to see Reeve jump to her feet, sending the bar stool skipping backward with a clatter. She was putting her index finger in the face of the only other woman I had ever seen that was as pretty as she was. Keelyn Foster was as much a part of the Point and Spanky’s as my brother was. She had been around a long time dancing under the stage name Honor and she wasn’t a woman anyone would mess with if they were smart. Up to this point, Reeve had shown she was very smart and could read people like a book, so I had no clue what she was doing.
Keelyn flipped her auburn hair over her shoulder, flashed a smile that was all teeth, and said something that had Reeve turning red enough that I could see it from here. There was no warning as the dark haired knockout dove for the sexy redhead and they went down in a tangle of arms and legs. Reeve was dressed, Keelyn was not. That was a whole lot of sexy woman-on-woman action happening and the crowd noticed.
Nassir chuckled as I started to move forward in order to break up the catfight.
“What?” I barked it him over my shoulder as I moved forward.
He laughed again. “I would’ve charged more at the door if I had known you were going to bring that kind of entertainment in with you, cop. When she figures out you’re just using her and you drop her on her ass, send her my way if she wants a job. I’ll oil her and Honor up every night and make enough to buy and sell this piece-of-shit city a hundred times over.
“Fuck off, Gates.”
I pushed through cheering bodies and waving arms until I could get to the spot on the floor where the girls were rolling around. I was assaulted with a chorus of boos and hit with more than one flying beer bottle as I pried Reeve off the stripper. They were both breathing hard and bleeding from various scratches.
“Seriously?” I asked the question as I set Reeve on her feet and watched as she shoved her long hair out of her face. I sighed and grabbed her hand as I started to drag her to the back where the bathrooms that the girls used were instead of the ones that were there for the customers.
“It’s fine.” Her voice was shaky as I shoved her into the room and hit the light switch.
“It’s not fine.”
She laughed a little shrilly and then the next thing I knew she launched herself at me so that I had to use both hands to catch her.
“You’re right.” I wanted to demand to know what she was thinking. I wanted to ask why she had decided to throw down with a stripper, but before my tongue unleashed the words, her mouth locked on mine and then there was no thinking. There was just heat, the tang of blood, and all the sweetness that always seemed to rise above the tartness when it came to this woman.
Chapter 7
Reeve
I COULD TOLERATE A lot of things. I was immune to nasty words and thought very little of the people that slung them around carelessly. I had grown used to hearing that I was a rat. I often heard the word backstabber mumbled as people walked by. I had been labeled a sellout, a traitor, but even worse was the disappointment I saw in Titus’s eyes every time I got just close enough for him to realize exactly who it was that had her hands on him, what kind of woman it was that made his eyes bleed all their color and burn white hot with craving and need. It stripped little pieces away from what was left of my dignity when he looked that way because the disappointment wasn’t directed at me but inward. He struggled with the way he wanted me, fought against big, powerful things that rose up inside him when we touched, and it hurt that he wouldn’t give in to them. I wasn’t sure he even knew they were there, but I could see them shining out of him and hear them calling to me louder and louder the harder Titus tried to quiet them down. The cop had more going on than his duty to serve and protect, and I wanted to dig into all of it.
Apparently the situation between me and the handsome detective bothered Honor as well. I knew Keelyn Foster and her glittery stripper skin outside of Spanky’s. She was one of my regular clients when I worked down here in the District doing hair. She was tough as nails, spoke her mind, and if there was ever a reigning queen of the Point it was her. She was tough and unbelievably beautiful. She was also unabashedly honest and had no problem getting right up in my face and telling me that Titus was a good man, too good for the likes of me, and that I should keep my bloodstained paws off of him. It should have been ridiculous. The words were trite and obvious and she delivered them dressed in nothing but a sparkly G-string and a pair of platform heels that almost made her the same height as me. But it was there in her frosty gray eyes. She really thought Titus was above me, thought I was somehow going to dirty him up and drag him down to the level she and I were at, and she didn’t approve. It rubbed me the wrong way, maybe the trut
h in it, maybe the way I knew she was honestly concerned about what being associated with me would do to Titus’s reputation. I only wanted to help him and every time I turned around someone was shoving it in my face that I was going to hurt him whether I wanted to or not.
I told her to back off. I told her Titus was a grown man and could make up his own mind about who he wanted to spend his time with. Key’s eyes had narrowed speculatively and she crossed her arms over her naked boobs. She should’ve looked ridiculous and trashy . . . she didn’t. She looked fierce and protective, like an ancient Amazonian warrior, and that just made my hackles rise up even farther. I was worried about Titus just as much as she was. Hell, I was stupidly and hopelessly infatuated with the guy, had a crush built on first impressions that was growing into something so much bigger as I learned more about what was behind his drive to take care of the innocent and good. No one had a bigger stake in how this charade played out with him than I did.
She proceeded to tell me she knew something had to be up, that there was no way the handsome detective would willingly piss off his brother by hanging out with me, that he also wouldn’t be so handsy and affectionate because he wasn’t that way with anyone. It was the presumption that she somehow knew Titus better than I did, that she had intimate knowledge of how he operated, that sent me over the edge. Without thinking, I poked her in the center of her naked chest and told her that obviously he was that touchy-feely, was that hands-on with someone he really wanted. Her eyes had gone predatory, and before I could stop myself I reacted, lunging for her, taking her to the ground before she could get a shot in. The first rule in the Point was to never show any kind of weakness, so I attacked before I could be attacked. It was simple street logic.
There was no hair pulling. There was no delicate screeching. Nope, we went after each other with closed fists and powerful punches. She even caught the inside of my thigh with the edge of one of those lethal heels and the resulting scratch had blood spilling down my leg. It really hurt but so did all of her pointed accusations, which was why I threw myself at Titus as soon as the bathroom door clicked closed behind him.
I wasn’t thinking straight. The heat of his hands when he pulled me off the stripper, the blazing silver in his eyes as he looked at my now bloody face . . . it all scrambled my brain. All I could think was that I did want what was best for him, and that despite himself, he wanted me. I locked my hands around the back of his neck where the short brush of his hair tickled my fingers, and sealed my mouth over his as soon as I told him he was right about things never being fine.
I held on tight because I expected him to shake me off, to tell me this was too much and there was no one to put on a show for in here. I expected him to pull away with something haunting and hollow in his too blue eyes.
What I got was completely unexpected from the serious and intent Titus King. Instead of distance, I got backed into the sink so hard that the edge of the counter bit hard into my thighs. Instead of blank space, I got a man returning my kiss just as ferociously as I was giving it to him. I got a rock-hard thigh pressed between my own as my legs were forced apart and an erection that was impossible to ignore even between the layers of clothes pressed up against the tender parts of me that were suddenly every kind of achy and wet.
I jolted as a paper-towel holder got whacked hard enough with an elbow to fall off the wall as Titus lifted one of his hands and clasped it around my neck while the other dived under the hem of the simple T-shirt he had just bought for me. The bathroom was tiny and Titus was really, really not. There wasn’t a lot of room to maneuver and yet he still managed to get me up on the counter and my shirt off over my head without breaking anything else or causing either of us bodily harm.
My chest was heaving and I was sure my eyes were wild as I clung to him like he was the last lifeline I was ever going to get and without him I would inevitably drown. I leaned forward and kissed him again, tasting the copper bite of blood and the warm cleanness that was somehow simply Titus. He tasted like he looked, strong, sure, and potent. He tasted like righteousness and honor. Redemption and repentance. He tasted like goodness, and I didn’t think there was ever any way I was going to get enough of it.
I twirled my tongue around his. I sucked him in and let him fill me up from the inside. My nails dug into his skin when I felt him tug impatiently at the cups of the new bra I had just bought. The black fabric was no match for his questing fingers and I thought I was going to pass out from pleasure when the pad of his thumb swept over the crest of one suddenly puckered nipple. I gasped into his mouth and he just pulled me closer to that ridge behind his zipper and settled even more firmly into the kiss that was making me see stars.
There had been those who touched me in the past, who knew what they were doing, who made me feel wanted, beautiful, and necessary. But no one had ever made me feel owned and devoured the way Titus did. It was the brush of his thumb back and forth, it was the clench of his fingers at my nape, and it was the pressure from his leg as he pulled me closer and closer. He was everywhere, even where we weren’t touching, and I had a feeling there was never going to be a way for me to get around him, which meant I was going to have to go inside of him to find space.
I adored the gruff, far-too-serious Titus that I tormented daily. But the unhinged, uncontrolled Titus was irresistible as he roughly palmed my now naked breast and grunted at me when I snaked a hand between us to fondle that hard length throbbing between us. The wild inside of him when he let it out was the most intoxicating thing I had ever seen and felt, and I knew I better eat every single second of it up while I got the chance. Because once he got his wits back, Titus was going to be furious that he had let the lock off the cage and that his inner beast had been allowed to run free for a few stolen moments in the bathroom of a strip club.
My fingers clawed at the denim that was keeping him from me and I threw back my head with a sudden jerk as his mouth left mine and landed with precision on the nipple he had been torturing with a rough touch. Fire zipped along every nerve ending and something more than passion started to buzz in my ears.
His mouth was hotter than hot and it was greedy. I was stunned and turned on beyond belief that my stalwart detective didn’t seem to care about soft touches and gentle caresses. He was all forceful hands and the sting of strong teeth. Titus was rough, and it was un-fucking-believable. I muttered his name and tried to get my hands under his heavy leather belt and behind his zipper but there wasn’t enough room. We were too close to each other and he had me trapped while he consumed my sensitive skin with his mouth. I panted and wiggled, wanting to get in on some of the touching action myself, but he wouldn’t relent. In fact those thick fingers in my hair tightened and pulled hard enough to make my eyes water just a little bit.
“Stop.” His voice was a growl that vibrated against my throat as he abandoned my chest and sank his teeth into the tender skin on the side of my neck, making it tremble under his lips.
“I want to touch you.” I sounded whiny and desperate. Two things I had never been before this man.
“No. We are not doing this.” He continued to kiss and nibble his way up behind my ear and I wanted to ask him what in the hell he was talking about, obviously we were doing something, but then he moved faster than a man that big should be able to and he took a step back and speared me with molten eyes. “We aren’t doing this, period, but we are absolutely not going to do it in a strip-club bathroom after you started a catfight, and with zero protection . . .” He trailed off and shook his head at me like we were both crazy. “I’ve made some questionable decisions since you came back to town, Reeve, but contrary to my recent actions, I do know where to draw the line.”
I stared at him. My body heaved, which drew his gaze to my still-naked chest. If I were someone else I would’ve covered myself to hide my shame. I wasn’t someone else, I was just me, and just me had had enough of the hot and cold with him. I narrowed my eyes at him and hopped off the counter where he had placed me. He t
ook a step back but there wasn’t much room for him to go, so he ended up with his back against the door as I prowled closer to him, pulling my bra the rest of the way off as I went. He watched me warily until I was directly in front of him. Defiance and passion were warring for supremacy in his still-flaming blue and silver gaze.
I had done a lot of wrong things in my life for the wrong kind of men. This would be the first time I did something wrong for the right man. I didn’t care where it was or what was going to come of it, I wanted the part of him he let out to play just for me. Sure, the location left a lot to be desired, but I was taking the part of Titus that was mine and he wasn’t going to stop me, not that he really wanted to anyway. Sure, having him fully wasn’t going to happen today. He was right that having sex with no protection was a stupid mistake for either one of us to make, but he was wrong about it never happening and he knew it. I saw it in the way his dark complexion turned ruddy as I grabbed his bulky belt buckle and pulled the end of his belt through it. It should feel dirty and seedy. It didn’t. It felt right and unavoidable.
The leather made a whooshing sound that echoed in the tiny tiled room. “This is my questionable decision not yours, and I have never paid attention to the lines, Detective.”
The belt fell away and the zipper that was straining, hard, sounded twice as loud as I started to pull it down. I wasn’t surprised when his hand caught my wrist. I was surprised that he didn’t yank it away but just held it immobile, the cotton of his boxers and the heat of his erection burning against the back of my knuckles.
Better When He's Brave Page 10
