I lick the salt from my hand and down the shot of tequila before Kyle shoves a lemon wedge into my mouth.
“Ugh!” I groan as the sour juice runs over my tongue. This must be my fourth one and it still tastes as awful as the first.
“It’s good, right?” he shouts, flashing his eyebrows at me.
“No,” I shout back to be heard over the loud music. “Nothing about that tasted good.”
He laughs and takes the glass from my hand. “You’ll get used to it, chica.” Then he winks at me and drags me back onto the dance-floor to join his two friends.
The heavy bass of the music feels like it’s vibrating through my body as I dance. Kyle is just a friend, at least he was until tonight, but something about dancing with him in this club is making me see him differently. He keeps staring at me with those dark brown eyes. Occasionally his hands stray to my hips and dangerously close to my ass. I’m kind of surprised that I don’t completely dislike it. I’ve never seen him that way before. But maybe it’s the music? Or maybe it’s the tequila?
“More shots?” Bailey, Kyle’s roommate, mouths, miming the action of throwing back a drink.
“Sure,” Kyle replies before his two friends disappear through the crowd and back to the bar, leaving the pair of us alone.
I take my cell out of my purse and message my friend, Jordan. She was supposed to come with us tonight, but she has three kids and her ex-husband had to work unexpectedly.
I understand her struggle.
I’m a single mom too. That’s kind of how we bonded, although Jordan is ten years older than me. I don’t go out often, but my parents are watching my son tonight.
I type out a text message to her.
Lucia: I wish you were here. This place is awesome.
I go to put my cell back in my purse but it vibrates in my hand.
Big Bad JD: Where the hell are you, Lucia?
I stare at the name on the screen. Shit! How the hell did I manage to text Jackson Decker instead of Jordan? And how do I get my stupid ass out of this?
“Everything okay?” Kyle shouts in my ear.
I look up at him and smile. Aw, he is cute. How did I never notice that before tonight?
“Yeah,” I say looking back down at my phone. What the hell am I so worried about? This is what college kids do, right? I’m a grown-ass woman. Yeah, I may be twenty and technically not supposed to drink in clubs, but Jackson is not my father—he only works for him.
Still, I lie my ass off anyway.
Lucia: I’m at home. Safely tucked up in bed.
Big Bad JD: No you’re not.
I type back furiously. Is he spying on me?
Lucia: How do you know that?
Big Bad JD: You just told me.
Oh, damn! Yeah I did.
Big Bad JD: Where are you?
Lucia: Out!
I go to put my cell away again when it starts vibrating like crazy in my hand. I glance back at the screen to see his name and face lighting it up, signaling he is calling now.
“Who is Big Bad JD?” Kyle laughs as he looks at the screen with me.
“A pain in my ass,” I shout back, with a dramatic eye roll thrown in for good measure. “I gotta take this. Be back in two secs.”
“I’ll be right here, chica,” Kyle smiles.
I step into a quieter part of the club and answer the call. “Hey, Jax.”
“Where are you, Lucia?”
“In some club,” I reply. I look up to see Kyle making his way over to me with another shot of tequila in his hand.
“Have you been drinking?”
“Only one or two,” I lie again as Kyle hands me a drink. He pulls me close to him, his hand skating over my waist and making me giggle.
“Lucia.”
“Or maybe more,” I admit. “I kind of lost count. The guys have been buying me shots.”
“Shots? What guys?” he snarls. “What’s the name of the club?”
“I’m not sure,” I admit as I look around.
“Lucia!”
“Hang on,” I sigh, covering the mouthpiece. “What’s this place called?” I ask Kyle, who is now standing behind me, pressing his body into mine as he tries to get me to dance with him.
“Deemon,” he replies in my ear.
I take my hand from the phone. “Kyle says it’s called Deemon.”
“Jesus fucking Christ, Lucia. What the hell are you doing in that dive bar?” Jax snaps. “Stay right where you are.”
I groan loudly down the phone, but he hasn’t finished speaking.
“And tell Kyle if he lays a fucking finger on you, I will tear off his arm and shove it up his ass.”
The line goes dead and I put my cell into my purse before turning back to Kyle. Should I tell him my father’s right hand man is on his way here right now to drag me out of this club?
“Okay?” Kyle grins at me.
My head swims slightly and I blink in the dim light.
“You okay, chica?” he asks again, handing me another lemon wedge to go with my tequila shot.
“What? Yes.” I smile before I down it in one. “Let’s go dance.”
“Ilove this song,” I shout as the first bars of Señorita by Shawn Mendes and Camila Cabello play loudly over the last song.
“Hey! Me too.” Kyle grins at me as he puts his arms around my waist. I stare into his eyes as our hips sway to the music. “You are so fucking hot when you dance, chica,” he whispers in my ear.
“You think?” I giggle.
He doesn’t have the chance to respond because he is gone — dragged backwards by the collar of his polo shirt until I am left staring up at the giant wall of muscle and fury that is Jackson Decker.
“What the hell?” I slur but he turns his attention to Kyle.
“You think it’s okay to get underage girls drunk?” he snarls as he brings his face close to Kyle’s.
“She’s twenty,” Kyle stammers in his defense.
“Last time I checked that was still underage, asshole.” Jackson snarls as he grabs Kyle by the throat.
“Jax,” I shout, taking a hold of his forearm and making him turn his anger-filled gaze back to me. “Please don’t do this. These are my friends.”
“Friends do not get you drunk so they can feel you up, Lucia,” he snarls.
A few seconds later, three bouncers are surrounding us too. I swallow hard as I wonder what the hell is going to happen next. Jax could take the lot of them out if he chose to. And then what? More bouncers?
I feel sick as I picture a mass brawl in this club and me never being able to show my face on campus again, but one of the bouncers speaks to Jax.
“Everything okay here, Mr. Decker?” he asks.
“No. She is drunk and she is underage,” he snarls. “Do you even check ID in this place?”
They don’t. Not very well anyway. It’s why this club is so popular with college kids. “We’re sorry. It won’t happen again.”
To my relief, Jax releases Kyle from his grip, but not without a warning first. “You ever touch her again and I will cut off your hands. You got me?”
Kyle nods furiously while I sway on the spot.
“I feel sick,” I shout.
Jax turns to me and then he scoops me up into his arms and strides out of the club. If I didn’t feel so woozy, I think I would die of embarrassment. I suppose there is plenty of time for that tomorrow.
As soon as we are out in the fresh air, my head starts to spin. “Jax,” I groan as I cling onto his neck.
“I got you, Luce. I’ll take you home,” he says softly, all the anger gone from his voice now.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper as he places me in the front seat of his truck and fastens my seatbelt.
When he climbs in and starts the engine, I lean back and close my eyes. “Thank you for not killing Kyle,” I mumble sarcastically.
He grunts in response.
“He was just my friend, Jax. And even if he was more…” I trail off. It’s hard enough being Alejandro Montoya’s daughter without having Jax threatening every guy who takes an interest in me. Not that many do. I think the fact that my father is the head of the Spanish Mafia kind of puts most of them off.
“Guys who like you shouldn’t have to get you drunk to make you like them back, Lucia.”
“He didn’t do that,” I protest.
“No? You said he’s your friend, right?”
“Yeah.”
“You ever let him put his hands on your ass when you’re not drunk?” he snarls and I have no response for that, because I have never let him do anything like that before tonight. Kyle’s not my type really. He’s too clean-cut and he doesn’t have any tattoos, or stubble on his jaw.
I open my eyes and look across at Jax. His knuckles are white as he grips the steering wheel. His forearms are huge, with dark tattoos winding around them, merging together and snaking all the way up to his shoulders. My gaze travels up to his neck where some of his ink peeks out of the collar of his t-shirt and curls around the thick column of his throat. They can’t be seen when he wears a dress shirt and I know he likes it that way, because sometimes he wants to look clean-cut too.
But he’s not. He’s dangerous. He is fire and fury, and burning. The most lethal man I know. And I have been in love with him for three long years.
“I’m sorry, Jax,” I mumble sleepily as my eyes roll in my head and I have to close them again. “Thank you for rescuing me.”
“Any time.”
“I love you,” I mumble.
Crap! Did I just say that out loud? Well, maybe he didn’t hear me anyway.
“Get some sleep, Angel,” he growls.
Did he just call me Angel? Or did I imagine it?
