Page 60 of Savage Lust

Her confusion, the hurt feelings, were gone now. I’d hit my mark. “Is that the way you think about me?” There was a tremble to her bottom lip that punched me in the gut.

“You’re nothing like that.” Not even comparable.

“You screwed me, that the difference?”

I leaned over the table and for the first time in this whole fucked up charade, was brutally honest. “Because Iwantedto fuck you, because Iwantto fuck you with every breath I take. Not because I’m doing either of us any favors.”

The door swung open, letting in a momentary flash of sunlight as three white guys entered the bar. Two were scrawny skinheads. One was using, judging by the way he picked at the sores on his arms and twitched.

They all looked right at me. The one with the mullet jerked his eyes away fast and climbed onto a high-backed stool. I’d seen him when he’d driven past us. My hackles went up. Riley pushed at her burger, looked at it like there were worms crawling under the bun, and left it laying in the basket.

Plan B, Riley was staying with me.

I pulled out my phone to text Merc again. Not the group text, but Merc. My hesitation to alert everyone was the sort of thingthat tore clubs apart. Archer had taught me that. But his blind trust had probably gotten him killed.

He taught me shit like that, too.

When the waitress came back, she slid a small piece of paper under my fingers. The red of Riley’s cheeks darkened almost purple. She might not think she was jealous, but she was. Likely she thought this was my payback for Garza. And maybe it was.

The hairs on my arms prickled, my intuition telling me something bad was about to happen. My leg shook restlessly under the table—my body preparing for trouble.

When I fucked Riley, I let my guard down. Let myself forget who I was.

I wasn’t leading the waitress on; I’d been leading Riley on. I hated myself for it. Deep down, knew I’d burn for it.

“What’s going on?”

She was too perceptive. I glanced up from Merc’s response.

If shit pops off, head to the clubhouse. Meet you there.

“Nothing.”

“I’m seriously going to need you to respect me enough to stop lying to my face.”

Why did she have to be so fucking cute with her righteous indignation? Her irritation was easier to deal with than the other emotions. I glanced over and caught Mullet watching us through the mirror behind the bar.

“There’s so much shit happening right now, I don’t know where to begin.” A deflection, but fuck if it wasn’t the truth.

“I’m good enough to screw but not good enough to talk to. Good to know.” She pushed the basket back, stood with a grumbling mumble, and went to the bar.

The weathered bartender with the day’s growth of white beard was more accommodating to her than the waitress had been. The rednecks following us were as well.

If I called her back, they’d know I was on to them. And that would cost me the element of surprise. Which I’d need to keep our asses intact.

I ate, but tasted nothing, and watched as Mullet chatted her up. The other two kept their distance for a while, focusing their attention on me. This guy was running the show. He was the one I’d take out first. Something else Archer had taught me, in a fight never stop moving, and cut the head off the snake.

With a crack of my neck, I drug a fry through ketchup and tossed it in my mouth. The waitress came back, and all but sat right in my basket of food when she propped a hip on the table.

Accustomed to women, to the shared way women like her put the moves on a guy, I only half listened. She tugged at the patches on my vest, working her way toward the t-shirt and my chest.

My attention was with Riley, especially when one of the skinheads flanked her. I took a few more bites of the burger as she caught my gaze in the mirror. Her discomfort was obvious, but she was too fucking stubborn to come back to me.

“A man like you needs a real woman.” The waitress’ laugh was low and sultry, her shorts inched up so high now they disappeared into her groin.

“Think so?”

“That little girl can’t give you what you need.”

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