Page 32 of Strike
“That’s what I like to hear…”
Lowering, I kissed a trail over her silky breasts, across her stomach, and delved between her legs. As I laved my tongue over her clit and slid a finger inside her, I knew I wanted to keep doing it, too.
For as long as she would let me.
Still buzzingfrom my night with Callie, I went to The Underground in a much better mood than I had in more than a year. Everything seemed a little brighter, and it was weird as hell.
Sitting at the bar, I sipped my beer and narrowed my eyes. Was it my imagination, or were people staring at me? Staring and whispering. It wasn’t unusual, but I’d been under the radar for months now. I’d gone to great lengths to make sure no one gave a stuff about me.
Glancing up, I scowled as I spied a group of women stealing glances at me. They were talking heatedly about something, and then they would fire off glances in my direction.
“What’ve I done now?” I muttered, wondering what the rumor was this time.
It could be one of two things. That woman, whatever her name was—the one whose car I’d jumped out of at the traffic lights the night I saved Callie—must’ve finally started to talk trash about me. About time. Or it was about me letting Hamish bash my face in. That would get the rumor mill spinning. He was the star of The Underground and was now with my ex, who used to be a bartender here. Everyone knew sweet, little Lori.
Someone sat on the stool next to mine, and I rolled my eyes. No one ever sat next to me unless they were trying to start something. I wasn’t in the mood for games, not tonight, so I turned, but I wasn’t expecting to find Hamish sitting there looking at me like I’d sprouted a second head. The Irishman never came to the bar, which meant he was looking for me, and that never ended well for anybody. I had the black eye to prove it.
“You had to go and ruin the one place where I didn’t have to deal with your ugly ginger face,” I drawled.
“Is it true?” he asked, looking me over.
“Is what true?” I scowled, not wanting to get into a verbal slinging match over my latest misdemeanor. Whatever it was.
“Did you really pull that woman from a burnin’ buildin’?”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” My blood ran cold, and I bristled, immediately going on the defense.
“It’s all over the news, man.” He held up his phone and showed me the screen.
‘Disgraced UFC Welterweight, Mark Ryder, Saves Woman From Burning Building.’ My fingers tightened around my bottle of beer, and my lip curled. How the fuck… Callie wouldn’t have said anything because she didn’t know. Someone must’ve seen me and knew my face. I cursed under my breath.
“Ryder, you—”
“Don’t call me that,” I snapped.
I didn’t have to read the article to know what it said.
“I didn’t want anybody to know,” I muttered, leaning my elbows on top of the bar and fisting my hands into my hair.
“That you saved a woman from bein’ burned alive?”
I’d almost forgotten Hamish was still sitting there, and I picked up my drink, downed the rest of it, and flung the empty bottle over the bar and into the bin.
“Hey!” Faye screeched at me, but I didn’t give a crap.
Rising to my feet, I shoved down the urge to shout right back.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Hamish exclaimed, grabbing my arm.
Shaking myself free, I stalked off through the crowd, the staring and whispering getting on my nerves. I pushed out of the nearest exit, the door by the bar, and closed out the noise of The Underground behind me.
It was a service entrance. There were empty beer kegs, old wooden pallets, and a dumpster. A pile of crates was arranged in a seating area for the bar staff, and an overflowing ashtray was on the ground with some empty beer bottles.
My jaw tightened, and I couldn’t hold onto my anger anymore. With a cry, I kicked at the crates, sending one after another flying across the concrete. Picking up the bottles, I threw them at the brick wall, and they smashed, shattering into a million pieces.
The door opened, and someone appeared, then yelped as they saw me in mid-breakdown and scurried back inside again.
Grabbing a pallet, I heaved it into the air, but it didn’t get very far. It crashed to the ground, and I screamed an obscenity at it before collapsing against the wall, my chest heaving.
