Ruthless Bastard (A Dangerous Love Book 3) Page 2

  She shrugged and grabbed a rag near the sink. “It must be a full moon or something; that’s the third rude person tonight.” She’d seen it time and time again. Full moons made people act…wild.

  “Well, let’s hope that’s the last,” Justin said.

  She nodded. The shadow beneath his eye was a reminder of the tourist from last weekend who had decided Justin was his mortal enemy. Luckily, Boone had been in the bar that night, stepping in when Justin took the powerful punch. “Thanks for coming to get him on his way.”

  Justin saluted her. “It’s what you pay me the big bucks for.”

  She laughed. He wasn’t lying. She did pay him more than she would a short order cook, but she was glad to have the extra muscle on staff.

  While Justin headed back to the kitchen, she took away the man’s empty glass and wiped down the bar.

  “If that’s not your cue to get out of here,” Benji said, stepping in next to her, “I don’t know what is.” He leaned a hip against the side of the ice bucket and folded his arms. Being a few inches taller than her, Benji could certainly hold his own. “Do I need to remind you that you own this bar? You make the rules. Why the hell are you working on your birthday?”

  Why, indeed?

  Lately, all Kinsley had been doing was keeping herself busy. She didn’t even try and pretend she didn’t know why…Rhett. “What can I say, I just love you so much, Benji. Why would I be anywhere else but here with you?”

  Benji flashed his charming grin, his unruly blond hair falling down over his brow. “I am pretty lovable, aren’t I?” He nudged her in the playful way they were accustomed to ever since they’d spent two hot weeks together—long before she hired him as head bartender.

  “Truly.” She smiled.

  Benji’s grin fell. “Seriously, though, get out of here. Lola and I’ve got the bar tonight.” Lola was the other bartender on staff, whom Kinsley had hired after Remy quit to open up her own New Age magic shop next door.

  She knew she needed to face tonight. Another birthday…alone. “I’ll help until Lola comes then I’m outta here,” she said.

  “Good.” Benji flashed her his cute grin that always won over the ladies. It had made an impact on Kinsley too, until the lust died between them and all that remained was a good, solid friendship. “Any big plans for tonight?” he asked.

  Kinsley tried not to flinch. And failed. “Does watching reruns of Friends and eating a bag of chips count as big?”

  Benji frowned. “Kinsley, you’re twenty-nine, not dead.”

  She certainly wasn’t dead, but she wasn’t sure what she was anymore. Bored, lonely, and everything in between. She tried not to feel emotional that no one had dropped in today to greet her—not her brother or Peyton or her father or Remy. They’d all been so busy with their lives, it seemed they’d forgotten her birthday. “I’m sure we’ll end up doing something next weekend.”

  “You better,” Benji said, right as the bar’s front door opened.

  Three men entered. All tall and wide in the shoulders. The one leading the group held Kinsley’s gaze as he approached. Shaggy brown hair, dark eyes that held little warmth, and lips that curled at the corners like he had some wicked insight. “I’ll grab these guys,” she told Benji. “Wanna make sure we’re all stocked up before things get busy tonight?” In two hours, the bar would be packed full because of the headline singer coming in from Nashville.

  Benji’s attention stayed with the men entering the bar before he looked at her and nodded. “Yeah, sure.”

  When he disappeared into the back room, Kinsley closed in on the three men sliding onto the stools at the bar, catching the RED DRAGON crest on the arms of their leather jackets. The biker gang hailed from Whitby Falls, the larger neighboring city to the north. They were bad news, a ruthless, dangerous motorcycle gang, who killed often, and never asked questions. Her dad, brother, and late grandfather were all cops, and growing up, Kinsley had heard stories of these guys. Terrible stories of murder, greed, and more murder.

  “Welcome to Whiskey Blues,” she greeted them, placing three circular coasters down on the bar with the club’s logo of a guitar in neon blue and WHISKEY BLUES written in a bold yellow. “What can I get ya?”

  The man who’d led the group inside ignored her question. Instead, he said, “Cute place.”

  “Thanks.” She forced a smile, even though his tone made it clear that he meant to insult, not praise. “What can I get for you?” she repeated.

  “Whiskey. Neat. All around.”

  She turned away, fighting against the slight tremble of her fingers before she forced herself to get it together. Men like these got off on scaring the public. She’d never give them that satisfaction. She reached for three shot glasses then grabbed the whiskey bottle behind her bar, feeling their gazes examining her every move.

  She poured the shots. “Enjoy.”

  The same man grinned darkly, sending a chill straight into her bones. With his gaze set on hers, he lifted the shot glass in salute then downed it. There was something disconcerting in the way he watched her. A little too closely, knowingly almost. Though what truly worried her was the gun she saw resting beneath his leather coat.

  After a lifetime around cops, Kinsley knew to trust her instincts, and her inner alarms screamed at her. While the other two men polished off their shots, she quickly moved to the other side of the bar, the hairs on the back of her neck rising with every step. She grabbed her cell phone from her back pocket and dialed her brother.

  No answer.

  “Dammit,” she spat.

  She tried Asher.

  Again, no answer.

  The room began to swallow her up. A quick look back, and the leader smiled at her again. Not a nice smile, but more of a I’m-going-to-eat-you-my-dear grin. She really didn’t want to make the next call. For two weeks she’d been trying to get in touch with Rhett. He’d never returned her call. Not once. She’d even showed up at his house one night. He didn’t answer the door, even though she knew he was inside.

  But the tightness in her gut and the steady thumping of her heart had her texting Rhett: 911. That was their code for call immediately.

  Her phone rang a second later. “What’s wrong?”

  Rhett’s low smooth voice sent goose bumps racing across her arms. “Wow. You actually called me back.”

  There was a pause. A long pause. One that went on and on, with all the awkwardness that had been present between them ever since that hot night in the tropics. And yet…and yet…Kinsley wouldn’t go back and change a thing. It didn’t matter that Rhett could barely look her in the eye anymore, or that he never came into the bar, that night had changed her life. In good ways that she’d never regret.

  “Are you in trouble?” he finally asked, breaking the heavy silence.

  “Maybe. Are you busy right now? There’s some guys that just came into the bar—”

  “I’m on my way.” The call ended.

  She released a breath and slid her cell phone into her pocket then shuffled back to the bar. Neither of the three men had moved, still watching her with their creepy eyes.

  “Sweetheart,” the leader said in a voice that stole any warmth from the word. “Another shot for me and my guys here.”

  She avoided the coldness in his stare and grabbed the whiskey bottle on the back wall then refilled the shot glasses. “Let me know if you need anything else,” she told them.

  “Oh, I definitely need something else,” he purred, a scary edge rising in his gaze.

  Kinsley sighed heavily, making sure he heard. There was one thing she hated more than drunk rudeness, and that was arrogant cockiness. “Listen, I’ve already kicked out one person tonight. Wanna be number two?”

  The guy’s wink sent off warning bells in her mind. “Now that sounds like an interesting night.”

  And just like that, she’d had enough of men tonight. She craved her bed and some peace and quiet to have her pity party over her terrible birthday. But right as s
he went to turn away, the man latched on to her wrist. Hard. She whirled back to him, but any insults she planned on yelling at him died. His stare penetrated her, practically stripping her skin off and peeling back the layers until he found her weak spots.

  “Remove your hand.”

  The sharp order snapped her attention up. She released a shuddering breath, both in relief to find Rhett had arrived and surprise at the venom in his voice. But too soon all she felt was a heady warmth brought on by his closeness and the dangerous glint in his rich chocolate brown eyes and black hair. Rhett was intimidating. He’d left for the military as a kid and come back home stronger and all grown up. Now thirty-three years old, Rhett’s body was made up of solid muscle from dedication to being in top form. He was a bit too rough to be called handsome, but Rhett was pure masculine perfection, and Kinsley was there for all of it.

  The man’s fingers only tightened on Kinsley’s wrist. “We got a problem here, West?” he asked.

  Rhett slowly gestured toward her wrist, those eyes now blazing. “Do you need assistance removing your hand, Dalton?”

  The fact that Rhett knew him only made Kinsley feel better about calling. The man squeezing her wrist was a well-known criminal. She sensed the bar go quiet, the customers at their tables slowly turning to watch them. She stood frozen, her free hand moving to her belly as her earlier dinner went leaden in her stomach. No sounds crept in except the quickening of her heartbeat in her ears. Until the guy squeezed her wrist again. Hard. She flinched against the pain, and then everything happened so fast.

  Rhett took Dalton to the ground, which nearly pulled her onto the bar since the biker fought against letting go. The other two men jumped to their feet, their stools kicked to the side, but Rhett was ready with his weapon aimed in their direction.

  A beat passed.

  “Do not toy with me, Dalton,” Rhett growled, his attention on the standing men.

  Kinsley blinked.

  “You can leave,” Rhett went on, “or I can take you down to the station.” He dug his knee into Dalton’s back, easily pinning him with a fierce hold on his neck.

  It was the absolute worst time for Kinsley’s attention to roam over Rhett’s bulging biceps and the corded muscles on his forearms. Heat rolled over her. Outnumbered, Rhett looked bold and brave and damn near the sexiest thing Kinsley had ever seen in her life.

  Dalton laughed gruffly. “Ah, West, I didn’t know she was your girl. My apologies. We’ll go.”

  Rhett was off him a second later. Both his hands were on his weapon now, not aiming at anyone specifically, but Kinsley knew that if he needed to take them out, he’d do so in a second, without a blink of an eye. The trained soldier was coiled, ready.

  Dalton jumped to his feet and brushed off his jeans. “Still a quick bastard, I see,” he said, grinning at Rhett. Then his gaze swept over Kinsley, roaming from head to toe. “Didn’t realize you were a claimed woman. Too bad, princess. We could’ve had fun.”

  “Go home, Dalton,” Rhett warned. “Last chance.”

  It occurred to Kinsley why Rhett didn’t correct Dalton’s assumption that they were together, and it had nothing to do with caring for her. If Dalton thought she was with Rhett, a Stoney Creek detective, he likely wouldn’t come back. Which was fine by her. She didn’t want Dalton to come back. Ever.

  Dalton gave Rhett a slow smile before returning those cold, hard eyes to Kinsley. She found something so unsettling about him but couldn’t quite pinpoint the reason.

  Before she could figure it out, he was gone, his men following behind him, and finally, Kinsley could breathe again.

  “Are you all right?”

  Kinsley forced a nod. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay.”

  But she wasn’t okay. She was anything but okay. It had been two months since she’d seen Rhett. Everything she felt for him hit her like a punch to the gut. And she realized the greatest threat to her hadn’t left the bar but was standing right in front of her.

  Chapter 2

  Kinsley was all warmth, affection, and so much…brightness. Rhett could barely breathe as they stared into each other’s eyes, reminded of all the ways she wrecked him. Two months had gone by since he’d touched her, and every minute, every second, had been a struggle to stay away from her.

  She quickly regained her composure like she always did, but he had to force himself to look away first. If he stared too long, he got lost in the intensity between them. Rhett couldn’t allow that. For her sake. He was a soldier, not a civilian. He belonged on the battlefield, not living in a small town or playing house with anyone. And through the years of watching Kinsley grow up, he knew she wanted the husband, the 2.2 kids, the walks in the park, the movie nights. Rhett could barely sit in one place for longer than twenty minutes before he got edgy.

  The rumble of motorcycles roared on the other side of the door and Rhett gritted his teeth. Dalton Greeves, and the others with him, belonged to the notoriously dangerous RED DRAGONS motorcycle club. It wasn’t often that Dalton and his men came into Stoney Creek. They had no business there. And Rhett hoped this wasn’t a start to something, especially considering Dalton had put his focus on Kinsley.

  When the motorcycles were all but a soft rumble now, Rhett noticed the silence in the bar. He took in the customers, all sitting at their tables looking in his direction. Most were pale. Some looked ready to bolt. “It’s all right,” he told the crowd. “I’m police. You’re all safe, and they won’t be coming back tonight.” He glanced at the pretty singer onstage and nodded her on.

  She quickly moved toward the microphone and got right back into the song that obviously had been interrupted, filling the bar with her velvety voice.

  To settle the crowd, Rhett holstered his weapon and slid onto the stool. When his gaze met Kinsley’s again, he found that the connection they’d had a minute ago was now gone. “Any idea why they were here?” he asked her.

  She shrugged. “Being aggressive pricks is my guess.”

  The slight movement of her shoulder drew his attention to her body. Her beauty stunned him, every damn time. Her blue eyes were like no other color he had seen in his life. Bright against her chocolate brown hair. But what he liked most about Kinsley was her strength. She had her shit together.

  Just then, Benji, the guy Rhett still could never get a read on, sidled up next to Kinsley. “I leave for one second to stock the fridges and all hell breaks loose.” He examined her, a little too intimately if Rhett had anything to say about it, before sliding his arm around her. “Are you okay?”

  She nodded, her face ashen.

  Rhett stared at Benji’s arm, willing it to burst into flames. Benji’s affection only reminded Rhett how bad he was with people. He should have comforted her. Christ, he should have done a lot of things, but getting anything right aside from being a soldier and a detective wasn’t in his nature. He stayed put, arms resting on the bar, not getting any closer to Kinsley than was absolutely necessary. He did not trust himself to keep his hands to himself. “They won’t come back,” he told her, hoping to reassure her. “This is what the gang does. They come in, rattle people up, and leave.”

  “They better not come back,” she said, stepping out of Benji’s arms. “The last thing I need is a bunch of hooligans scaring off my customers.” She placed her hands on the ice bin in front of her and drew in a long, deep breath, and with that single breath, she seemed to shed the remainder of worry shadowing her.

  She looked very much like the in-control, sexy woman that Rhett had found when he came home from the military. Kinsley had always just been Boone’s younger sister. The cute, feisty kid who stood up to bullies on the playground and got into more trouble than her older brother did. Rhett had once pulled her off one of the biggest guys in high school as she clawed out to hurt him for spreading lies about one of her friends. She’d always been a spitfire, but when Rhett left for the military, she’d still been a kid. When he came home, he discovered that she’d become a woman, a gorgeous one at that,
and she drew him right in. For years, he fought his attraction to her, but she was simply unforgettable. And yet, he couldn’t be more wrong for her.

  Rhett knew how to hunt and how to kill. He knew how to make sure a woman left his bed satisfied. But he didn’t know how to love her. Not in the way she should be loved. And even if he wanted to, which he wasn’t sure he did, he was too far gone.

  To make the boundary between them as clear as ever, he slid off the stool and said, “If they come back, let Boone know.”

  He wasn’t lost to the tightening of her lips before she said to Benji, “If anything comes up, just call, okay?”

  Benji nodded then gave her a quick hug. “Go and enjoy the rest of your birthday.”

  Her birthday. Yeah, Rhett knew all about it. He’d spent the last week trying to avoid all the conversations regarding today that Remy and Peyton kept trying to get him involved in.

  “Thanks for coming,” she finally said to Rhett after Benji strode away. “I tried Boone and Asher, but no one answered their phone.”

  Rhett shoved his hands into his pockets. “It’s fine.”

  The way she flinched at his dry voice made him hate himself even more. But that was minuscule compared to the emotion in her eyes. “Were you at the station?” she asked, grabbing her purse from underneath the bar.

  He shook his head and let his silence be the answer. He’d done everything he could for the last two months to try to forget about how good Kinsley smelled, felt, how incredible she tasted. He’d failed miserably to forget her, but even though he wanted to, he couldn’t find it in himself to be with anyone else.

  “Oh.” She cringed, obviously assuming he’d been with someone else tonight.

  He hadn’t, but he let her believe that since it was far better than the hurt he’d give her if he let her in. If he let anyone in. And Benji’s thoughtfulness toward Kinsley only cemented Rhett’s choice to keep his distance.

  “Well, sorry I dragged you away.” She barely gave him another look as she hurried into her winter jacket, and matching scarf and winter beanie, and walked out the front door.