Page 9 of Filthy Savage
Angel
I swirlthe ice in my drink around the glass, wishing I ordered two double gin and tonics. The one I ordered didn’t cut it. I’ve already knocked it back like a shot and need more to take the edge off. Drinking too much before I meet up with my best friend Sonya’s cousin, Dean in this seedy dive bar probably isn’t the best idea. Not that I can understand why I need to meet him at all. It’s not like the text message Sonya sent me to pass along to him is top secret or anything.
But for Dean, it probably is.
Sonya and her entire extended family are mistrustful at best. Sonya’s been my best friend since before high school, yet she’s never once invited me to her house in all that time. They don’t like the idea of traditional government, they shy away from society, and they don’t, under any circumstances, talk to each other on the phone. Something about wire-tapping. Which is why I’m playing the real-life telephone game with the two of them. I’ve known Dean for years too, and he buys into the same ideology.
At least we’re not meeting up for long. I’ll catch up on how he’s been for a few minutes, give him her message, and leave. Ever since Sonya left the country for a conservation scientist work assignment somewhere in Eastern Europe, I’ve been passing messages from her to Dean from time to time. But the messages have been coming more frequently since her employer moved her out to study somewhere in the Bulgarian desert, a place I can’t even pronounce.
Like all of Sonya’s other notes, this latest message isn’t newsworthy. She wants me to let Dean know that she’s fine, that she’s working outside of cell phone range and will be unreachable for up to two months. That update is simple enough, yet Sonya insisted on me meeting Dean in person at this saloon to tell him.
I check the time again. It’s early. One of their relatives owns the place, so Dean is usually around when I get here. Shit. I was hoping to pop in and leave, as a few of my coworkers are at our after-work lounge two blocks from the library. That’d give me an excuse to be up and close to where I met that big, sexy biker this morning.
Axe.
He hasn’t phoned, but I hope he does. For all I know, he might think I put a fake number into his phone. It’ll be his loss if he doesn’t at least try to contact me.
I need to get laid soon.
Huffing out a breath, I look around and take in the sketchy characters near the bar. One of them is wearing too much denim. The man next to him, not enough hair. Too drunk. Not tall enough. I snap my head forward to face the bartender when the short one notices me looking and gives me a seedy wink. Nope. This is not the place for a casual hookup. Besides, I’m still holding out some hope for biker guy.
Axe.
What a name.
I clutch my glass and lick my bottom lip as I remember the smoking hot man who had my panties soaked from only a five-minute coffee shop conversation. Our banter was a random bright spot in an otherwise dull day. Most men can’t handle my larger than life personality or my confidence, not to mention the fact that I’m plus-sized. He, on the other hand, seemed to enjoy what most would call my smart mouth. I remind myself that for now, I’m not looking for killer verbal skills, unless his tongue does killer things down south.
Heat rises up my neck, and I close my eyes and down the rest of my now watery drink. I take a quick glance down my body to be sure I’m still as put together as when I left work. Good thing I swapped my black suit jacket for this pale pink top with short capped sleeves. It’s less inhibiting and a lot more casual this time of night.
“Hello, lovely,” says a slurred voice coming from behind me. “I’m Troy. How about I buy you a drink?”
I turn slowly until I’m face to face with the inebriated patron from the other end of the bar. The man can barely stand straight, let alone have a conversation. I rattle the ice in my glass and narrow my eyes at him. “I appreciate the offer, but I like buying my own drinks. Thanks, though.”
He grazes his less than subtle eyes down my body, taking twice as long as most because he’s probably seeing double at his level of intoxication. I glance down into my glass with a frown, bracing for an inappropriate remark.
“Hey, excuse me,” says a more familiar gruff-sounding voice. “I’m going to cut this off because the lady isn’t here for you, okay? Just mosey on over to that table over there.”
I glance up in time to see drunk dude unceremoniously lifted out of his chair, and my biker from the coffee shop slides in beside me as if he owns the spot.
“What a welcome coincidence, slugger,” I say, unable to contain my smile.
“Hey.” He has that cocky smile on his face. I won’t forget it anytime soon. “You didn’t think you’d see me again, did you?” he asks in a voice that makes my core clench as its baritone vibrations made its way to the base of my spine.
“Actually, I thought I would’ve heard from you hours ago,” I admit, giving him a sideway glance. “Axe, right?”
“Yes.” My mystery man slaps a pink sticky note on the counter in front of me. A square of paper from my sticky pad, and with a note in my handwriting. “You dropped this outside Desert Java.”
“Oh, thanks. I was wondering what I did with that address. Good thing I’ve been here a few times before. Otherwise I wouldn’t have made it.”
He holds out his arm for a handshake, revealing a forearm covered in colorful ink. I shake his hand and hope he doesn’t notice the goosebumps running up my bare arms. My eyes trail up his muscular chest, broad shoulders, and grizzled chin, skimming the rest of his face when I lock with his green eyes. God, they’re sparkling just as brightly indoors as they did under the blinding sunlight this morning.
“Nice to meet you again, Angel.”
“Same here.”
That split second seems like an eternity while we hold on for way too long in that handshake. I can’t quite figure out why I don’t pull away. Every molecule in my body tells me to hang on, but there’s a tiny part of my mind wrestling hard for control, urging me not to invest any time in this man with biker gang bad boy written all over his face. Am I stereotyping him? Yes, because the last thing I need in my life is trouble, even if Axe does have a whole lot of sex appeal smashed onto a muscular, godlike body and a killer smile.
I need to put my guard up.
