“Well, look who just strutted her fabulous ass in here,” Fi called from the corner of Honky Tonk’s bar where she was keying the night’s specials into the system.
I held out my arms and did a slow turn.
Who knew a haircut could make me feel ten years younger and a thousand times sassier? Not to mention the short denim skirt Stef had talked me into.
The man set the gold standard for being a best friend. While waiting for me to prance out of the dressing room in my new skirt, Stef had been on a conference call with his “people,” arranging to have my stuff packed and my house on Long Island put on the market.
Tonight he was staying with Waylay, and I wasn’t sure who was more excited about their plans to binge-watch Brooklyn Nine-Nine.
“You like the hair, Fi?” I asked, giving my head a shake to make the curls bounce.
“Love it. My brother’s a damn genius with hair. Speaking of Jer, is your Stef single and if so can we play matchmaker?”
“Why? Did Jeremiah say anything about Stef?” I demanded.
“He only casually mentioned that your friend was the hottest gay man to strut into Knockemout in a decade.”
I squealed. “Stef asked me if Jeremiah was seeing anyone!”
“Oh, it’s so on,” Fi announced, pulling the lollipop out of her mouth. “By the way, I’ve got good news for you.”
I grinned as I stowed my purse behind the bar. “Did Idris Elba come to his senses and offer to whisk you away to a private island?”
She grinned wickedly. “Not quite that good. But you’ve got a party in the private room starting at nine. High rollers.”
I perked up. “High rollers?”
Fi jerked her head toward the hallway. “Poker game. Hush-hush. Half a dozen big spenders who feel like throwing away six figures on cards.”
“Six figures?” I blinked. “Is this legal?” I whispered the question despite the fact that we were alone in the empty bar.
The lollipop returned to her mouth. “Weeeell, let’s just say if Chief Morgan wanders his fine ass in here tonight, he doesn’t get in that room.”
I wasn’t sure how I felt about it. As someone who was supposed to be looking good in the eyes of the court, I probably shouldn’t be lying to law enforcement about anything.
But I’d cross that bridge when I had to tonight. Feeling happy, I swung into the kitchen to get set up for the busy night.
THE EXTENT of my professional poker knowledge was entirely based on the snippets of games I’d seen on TV while changing channels. I was pretty sure the players on TV looked nothing like the ones crowded around the round table in Honky Tonk’s secret back room.
Beneath his turquoise polo shirt, the British-accented Ian had muscles that looked like he bench pressed cars all day. He had dark skin, short-cropped hair, and the kind of smile that made a woman’s knees go weak. He was wearing a wedding ring with a whole lot of diamonds.
On Ian’s right was Tanner. He had reddish-blond hair that looked like a woman’s fingers had just left it. He wore the D.C. commuter uniform of expensive, fitted trousers, rolled-up shirt sleeves, and a loosened tie. No wedding ring, and he’d made certain I’d noticed with every top-shelf scotch I brought him. He fidgeted constantly and jumped every time the door opened.
On Tanner’s right was a man the rest referred to as Grim, though I doubted his parents had actually named him that. He looked like he’d walked right off the pages of a silver fox motorcycle club romance novel. Tattoos crisscrossed every inch of visible skin. He kept his sunglasses and scowl firmly in place as he lounged in his chair, sticking to club sodas.
Next to Grim was Winona, the only woman at the table. She was tall, built, Black, and wore pink metallic eyeshadow that complemented the accents on her figure-hugging denim romper. Her hair was big and bold, just like her laugh, which she was sharing with the man next to her.
“Lucy, Lucy, Lucy,” she said. “When are you gonna learn not to bluff me?”
Lucian was the kind of handsome that made women wonder if he’d made some pact with the devil. Dark hair. Dark, smoldery eyes. Dark suit. He gave off hints of power, wealth, and secrets like a cologne.
He’d arrived later than everyone else, shedding his jacket and rolling up his sleeves as if he had all the time in the world. He took his bourbon neat and didn’t try to look down my shirt when I served it.
“Maybe when you stop distracting me with your wit and beauty,” he teased.
“Please,” Winona scoffed, elegantly stacking her winnings with long red fingernails.
I was in the middle of trying to figure out how much one chip was worth and topping off the pitcher of ice water in the corner when the door burst open.
Tanner and I both jumped.
Knox strode into the room, looking annoyingly sexy as always. “You son of a bitch,” he said.
Everyone held their breath. Everyone, that is, except for Lucian, who continued to deal the next hand, unruffled by the interruption. “I was wondering how long it would take word to travel,” he said blandly. He set the deck down and came to his feet.
For a second, I was sure they were going to launch themselves at each other like stags fighting for supremacy in a nature documentary…or, you know, actual nature.
Instead, Knox’s scowl melted and was replaced with the kind of grin that made me feel as warm and gooey inside as a chocolate chip cookie fresh from the oven.
Note to self: Make chocolate chip cookies.
The two men shook hands and exchanged back slaps that would have put me in a chiropractor’s office.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Knox asked, less aggressively this time.
“Currently losing to Winona and thinking about ordering another drink.”
“I’ll get it. Anyone else want another round?” I squeaked.
Knox’s gaze fell on me. His grin vanished so quickly I wondered if he’d sprained a facial muscle. He took a leisurely, scowly tour of my appearance from hair to feet, disapproval snapping off of him like electricity.
“Naomi, outside. Now,” he growled.
“Seriously? What’s your problem this time, Viking?”
“There a problem?” Grim asked, his voice low and dangerous.
“None of your concern.” Knox’s voice had dropped into sub-zero temperatures.
“Go ahead and bring everyone a round, Naomi,” Ian suggested, his eyes on Knox.
I nodded and headed for the door.
Knox was on my heels.
He shut the door behind us and took me by the arm, steering me down the empty hallway away from the bar, past his secret lair office. He didn’t stop until he’d opened the door at the far end of the hall which opened into Whiskey Clipper’s supply room.
“What the hell, Knox?”
“What the fuck are you doing in that room dressed like that?”
I gestured at my empty tray. “What does it look like? I’m serving drinks.”
“This ain’t tea time at some goddamn country club, sweetheart. And those people aren’t on the PTA.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “I’m going to need a pie chart or a Venn diagram or a database to catalog all of the many ways I piss you off. Why are you mad that I’m doing my job?”
“You shouldn’t be serving that party.”
“Look, if you’re not going to explain, then I don’t think I’m responsible for listening. I have drinks to deliver.”
“You can’t just wander into dangerous situations like this.”
I threw up my arms. “Oh, for Pete’s sake. I didn’t wander. I showed up for my shift. Fi gave me the table because she knew they’d tip well.”
He stepped close enough that his boots brushed the tips of my shoes. “I want you out of that room.”
“Excuse me! You’re the one who lets them play here and you’re the one who hired me to serve drinks. Ergo, you’re the one with the problem.”
He leaned in until we were almost touching. “Naomi, these aren’t just weekend warriors on bikes or your typical Beltway roadkill. They can be dangerous if they want to be.”
“Yeah? Well, so can I. And if you try to take me off that table, you’re going to find out exactly how dangerous.”
“Fuck me,” he muttered under his breath.
“That’s not happening,” I scoffed.
He closed his eyes, and I knew the big dummy was counting to ten. I let him get to six before stepping around him.
My hand had just closed around the doorknob when he caught me, trapping me between the door and his body. His breath was hot on the back of my neck. I could feel my heart beat in my head.
“Daze,” he said.
Goose bumps prickled on my arms. Warner’s only pet name for me had been “babe.” And for a moment, I was paralyzed with a desire so intense I didn’t recognize it as my own.
“What?” I whispered.
“They’re not your kind of people. If that dickhead Tanner gets too much over-priced scotch in him, he starts hittin’ on anything with a rack and losing hands. That skirt you’re barely wearing is already a distraction. He loses too much, he starts talkin’ shit and startin’ fights. Grim? He runs his own motorcycle club in D.C. Mostly personal protection now, but he still dabbles in less legal ventures. Trouble follows him.”
Knox was close enough to me that his chest brushed lightly against my back.
“Ian’s made and lost more millions than anyone else at that table. He’s got enough enemies out there that you don’t wanna be standing next to him when one of them shows up. And Winona carries a grudge. She feels she’s been done wrong, she’ll burn down your world with a smile on her face.”
“What about Lucian?”
For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of our breathing to cover the silence between us.
“Luce is a whole other kind of dangerous,” he said finally.
Carefully, I turned to face him. Not quite managing to cover the flinch when my breasts brushed his chest. His nostrils flared, and my heart rate picked up.
“I’ve had no problems at that table. And I’m willing to bet if it were Fi or Silver or Max on that party, you wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
“They know how to handle trouble.”
“And I don’t?”
“Baby, you showed up in town in a fucking wedding dress with flowers in your hair. You scream into pillows when you get stressed out.”
“That doesn’t mean I can’t handle myself!”
He put a hand on the door behind me and leaned into the last bit of my space. “You need a goddamn keeper.”
“I’m not some helpless damsel in distress, Knox.”
“Really? Where would you be if it wasn’t me who found you in the cafe?
Staying in Tina’s shithole trailer with Way? No job. No car. No phone.”
I was getting very close to whacking him over the head with my tray.
“You caught me on a bad day.”
“Bad day? Fuck me, Naomi. If I didn’t drive your ass to the goddamn mall, you still wouldn’t have a cell phone. Like it or not, you need someone watching out for you because you’re too damn stubborn to do it yourself.
You’re too busy trying to take care of everyone else to bother with yourself.”
His chest was pressing against mine, and I was having trouble focusing on the fury that rose in my throat. Hot, hard muscle against soft flesh. His proximity made me feel drunk.
“You’re not kissing me,” I insisted. In hindsight, the warning was a tad presumptuous since he’d never kissed me before. But to be fair, he really looked like he wanted to kiss me.
“I’d rather wring your pretty little neck right now,” he said, eyes narrowing on my mouth.
I licked my lips, preparing to definitely not kiss him.
The low rumble in his chest vibrated through my body as he dipped his head toward mine.
A new vibration interrupted us.
“Fuck,” he hissed, yanking his phone out of his pocket. “What?” He listened, then let out a string of colorful curses. “Don’t let him past the bar.
I’ll be out in a second.”
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“See? That right there is your problem,” he said, pointing a finger in my face as he yanked the door open.
“What?”
“You’re suddenly too worried about me to watch your own ass while you’re serving a table of criminals.”
“Has anyone ever told you you’re ridiculously dramatic?” I asked as he hauled me out. He was texting with his free hand.
“No one who didn’t have a death wish. Let’s go, Daze. This time I’ll let you make my problem yours.”
