Page 4 of Spinner's Luck

A man having that kind of power over me.

He stopped a few feet away, close enough that I could see the faint hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. I wondered if he could hear how fast my heart was beating, or maybe he could see it written all over my face.

“Hey,” he said, his voice low, rough, and too damn tempting.

“Hey,” I replied, trying to sound casual, like my whole body wasn’t humming from the proximity.

We fell into an easy rhythm, his deep voice cutting through the noise of the bar, mine stumbling to keep up. He asked about why I kept running off, why I was here again. I gave him vague answers, acting like he wasn’t affecting me when, deep down, I knew I’d be lying awake later replaying every word he said.

Then the door swung open, the heavy thud of boots cutting through the pounding rhythm of the music.

I glanced toward the entrance, and my stomach dropped.

Drago’s men.

They were a problem I couldn’t ignore.

Two of them strode in like they’d been born to kick down doors and ruin lives, their cold eyes sweeping the room, calculating, hunting. My stomach tightened, instincts honed from years of running screaming at me to get out.

Shit.

My pulse kicked up, every muscle in my body screaming at me to bolt. They hadn’t seen me yet, but it was only a matter of time. I’d made enemies before—hell, I had a list of them—but Drago’s crew was the worst of them all. They’d been after me and my friend for weeks, ever since we slipped through their fingers.

I should’ve known better than to hang around a place like this.

It wasn’t smart.

Iwasn’t being smart.

Spinner was still watching me, his brow furrowing slightly, probably picking up on the tension rolling off me in waves.

“I’ll see you around, Spinner,” I said, slipping off the barstool. My voice was steady, but my hands weren’t.

“Lucy?” he called after me, but I kept moving. His eyes followed me as I turned, heading for the side door that led out into the alley. The urge to look back nearly swallowed me whole, but I couldn’t afford distractions—not right now. There was too much at stake.

The alley was quiet, the sharp smell of wet concrete and garbage hitting me as I ducked behind the corner of the building. The night air didn’t do much to settle me. I pressed my back against the wall, peeking around the corner just in time to see Spinner walking back out of the bar with his crew.

They climbed onto their bikes, the rumble of engines filling the night air, and I stood there like an idiot, half hidden in the shadows, watching him.

It wasn’t the first time I’d disappeared on him. Hell, disappearing was my specialty. But something about the way he carried himself, the way his eyes dragged over me, slow and greedy, like a gambler eyeing his last lucky chip, made walking away harder every damn time.

You don’t have time for this.

I kept reminding myself, but the words felt hollow.

Spinner kicked his bike into gear, his dark eyes scanning the parking lot. I knew he was looking for me. He wouldn’t find me, though. I was already a ghost, like always.

Still, as I watched him ride off, the heavy roar of his bike fading into the distance, I knew I’d be back.

I’d come back here, sit on the same barstool, and pretend it was just the drinks that kept me there.

And I’d do it knowing Spinner was the kind of man I could lose myself in.

The kind of man I’d sworn I didn’t have room for in my life.

But dammit, I couldn’t help myself.

CHAPTER THREE

---