Coletrane (Bad Boys of Retribution MC Book 4) Page 4

  I lit a smoke as I propped my back against the closed door of Inksanity. The parking lot next door for the Tattooed Moose bar had already filled, the night not even started yet. They made a killing on local brews and big servings of unusual fried foods. It helped that the casts of lots of lowcountry filmed movies and TV series frequented the place.

  Everyone wanted a piece of the fame game.

  Not me.

  I just wanted a break from my past.

  I called Sin, inhaling another lug of smoke from my cig.

  “Sinclair here.” Her voice wrapped around me like soft silk.

  “Hey. It’s Cole. Coletrane.”

  “You can just say Cole. I haven’t forgotten you already,” she said, a rustle of fabric in the background.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Dressing.”

  And way to add more fuel to the fire I’m trying to put out.

  “In what?” I flicked my smoke to the ground and stomped on it, far more interested in what Sin had going on.

  “A dress. I have to give a speech tonight.”

  “Don’t suppose you want to tell me what the dress looks like?”

  “Cole. Did you call me for a reason or is this about phone sex?”

  “I don’t fuck over the phone. I prefer to do it in person with a wet pussy on my big cock.”

  “Cole, you can’t say—”

  “I can. And I will. But that’s not why I got your number off Sadie.” I planted the sole of my boot against the brick wall. “Those guys today at the shop. You ever see them again, you call me immediately. I’m not fucking kidding.”

  “Do I need to be worried?” she asked, over the sound of a zipper being pulled.

  UGH.

  Focus.

  “Sin. Are you dressed yet?”

  “Just plumping my breasts,” she answered, oh-so-not-helpfully.

  “I don’t think they need more plumping,” I gritted out.

  “All done,” her sweet voice came across.

  Jesus. So am I. My cock is pounding in my jeans.

  “You’ll tell me if you see them again? The skanks from today?”

  “Cole. Are you in trouble?”

  “No. I’m not. Not anymore. Just please, be careful for me, precious.”

  “I’m on my way to the car now. Absolutely no threats so far.” I heard a hot moist sound come from her.

  “What the hell was that?”

  “Just reapplying my lipstick.”

  “Is it red?” My hand coasted down to my ever-hard cock.

  “You know it.”

  “One more thing, Sin.” I headed around the corner and grinded my punished fist against the brick wall. “Stay away from me.”

  “Is that really what you want?”

  “No,” I hashed out. “Not what I want at all. I want you. Not at the price it would cost you.”

  “I’m fully loaded. No price is too high.” The sound of the V-8 engine rumbled in the background.

  I rolled my eyes. “Ha. Ha. Very funny.”

  “Well, I try. Sometimes.”

  Jesus, I wanted to find a reason to keep her on the line, keep her talking to me, but I needed to cut her completely loose.

  “Hey, Sin?” My hand clamped around the phone.

  “Yeah?”

  I wanted to tell her good luck with her speech. Wanted to make a date with her. I hated that I couldn’t do that.

  Hated myself when I said, “I meant it, Sin. Stay away from me. Stay away from the MC.”

  I ended the call before she could respond.

  ****

  Over the next few days I toyed with deleting Sin’s number from my phone. Couldn’t bring myself to do it. I managed not to stalk her on Instagram, Facebook, G+.

  I was a grown man. Not a creeper.

  My ex-friends didn’t show their faces again. Good thing, too. I did not like the threat against Sin. Next time I’d pound all their faces into bloody pulps.

  Trixxie didn’t mention the incident again. Zeb never heard about it, and it was business as usual at Inksanity. Every new tattoo a fresh start, a fresh slate like the one I needed in my life.

  I had nothing to report on Brett, Kyle, and Curtis, not really. Besides, I didn’t want Hunter catching wind of my connection with a posse of deadbeat assholes cranking out the crank trade. I could take care of my own shit. Always had.

  In an effort to get Sin off my mind—because that scenario was impossible start to finish—I even gave Pincushion a bath. I held the scrappy little cat at an arm’s length after I’d dragged on heavy canvas work gloves. She hissed, clawed, bit, and mewled as soon as she hit the water. For my efforts I earned forearms covered in scratches, a soaking wet bathroom, and one seriously pissed off feline.

  At least, I thought she was a cat. It was still hard to tell. But she smelled better when she pounced into my lap with her godawful, almighty yowl for attention. Now.

  Several days later, August showed its face, and this time it was hotter’n Satan’s asshole. I was wound tighter than usual as I poured drafts, stationed behind the bar at Retribution. Tail had been working hard—for a change—the past few days, filling all the knife holes in the walls of the MC’s main room. Most of those nicks came care of Bo showing off his Krav Maga moves with his custom-gripped KA-BARs.

  Tail, the big, black-haired wrecking ball of a dude, had even added a new coat of paint. He called the color Whore Red. I doubted that was gonna take off with Sherwin-Williams, but it was a pretty good description. And maybe the dude had been watching HGTV—though that didn’t seem likely—but he’d chosen well. The clubhouse makeover made the place look less man cave and more MC hot.

  Not that it hadn’t been one class-act club before. The steel bar Kinkaid and I kept shiny, the bottles all lined up, mirrors polished, tables cleaned, floor mopped, and the maroon pool tables that were total boss . . . so what if the Miller High Life and Pabst Blue Ribbon lights had been detailed with pot tokers and silhouettes of naked women? I personally blamed that on Tucker. He got a certain satisfied gleam in his eyes whenever he looked at the low-hanging lights.

  Grandfather MC dispensed his wisdom behind a shot glass of tequila, always looking out for the welfare of those he considered family. He was Preacher Man, Dog Whisperer, Old Man Philosopher, and he wasn’t afraid to school anyone about tunes, tats, or how to treat a woman right.

  As a whole, we took this shit seriously. We took pride in the place. We weren’t one-percenters but one hundred percent legal.

  Mostly.

  As long as the guys didn’t find out I’d pretty much been a crank fiend who’d blown my veins out, smoked it, snorted it . . . got off on it in all ways. Back in the day I’d liked it any old way I could get it.

  “What crawled up your ass and shot sperm?” Boomer—apparently a wordsmith—set his ring of keys on the bar, beckoning for the usual order of beer plus shot.

  “Not your cock.” I attempted a smile that came out more like a frown.

  “Hope not.” He massaged a hand through his short black hair. “I try to reserve that for the ladies.”

  “What ladies do you speak of?” Brodie joked.

  His ice blue eyes dead-cool, Boomer flipped up the middle finger behind his back.

  Kinkaid placed the drinks down then started massaging my big shoulders. “You’re all kinked up, bro.”

  “And that is seriously fucking kinky. PornHub here we come!” Sadie hooked two fingers into her belt loops and leaned on the bar next to Boomer. “I don’t like to share, but maybe just this one time. Can I watch?”

  “I’m not gettin’ into bed with your boyfriend.” I elbowed Kinkaid away.

  “Uhhh, no.” Kaid leaned across the bar top and took Sadie’s lips in a hot slow kiss. “Only one I make love to is you.”

  “We got a sweet talker in the house!” Boomer called out.

  Next thing I knew, Brodie Steele stood next to me with the blender he unearthed from a low shelf turned to loud as he chucked in
ingredients. A minute later, he presented a pastel pink strawberry daiquiri to Kinkaid.

  “Keep it sweet, man.” Brodie winked.

  Everyone in the room laughed their asses off over the stupid ritual I’d only witnessed a couple times—making fun of any brother who got too sweet with his woman in the MC house.

  Kaid turned ten shades of red. Being blond like that had to suck.

  Sadie licked her lips, picked up the frothy frozen drink, and downed it in one. Knuckles rapped on tables. Wolf whistles splintered the air. Men and women yelled when she set the emptied glass down.

  “Aaaand we’re going home now.” Kinkaid, mesmerized by Sadie, made a quick exit with his woman in tow.

  The hoots and hollers didn’t stop until Brodie slipped me a full shot of the clear stuff with a wink. “You never answered Boomer, hoss. What’s the problem? This about the hottie last week? What was her name again?”

  A dozen groans echoed around the room at the mention of the new cherry.

  “Sinclair. Sin. Not about her.” After sucking back my tequila, I glared all around, daring anyone to give me anymore guff about the lady.

  “Never figured you had much game anyway.” Brodie’s cold blue eyes lightened. “Don’t be so goddamn grouchy.”

  “Oh, I got game.” I reached into my pocket then splatted a Magnum condom on the bar top.

  “So, it’s like that?” Brodie lounged beside me, one corner of his mouth kicked up.

  “It’s like that.”

  “I always heard it’s not the size that counts,” he answered.

  “Only guys with little dicks say that!” Tail laughed uproariously.

  “Want me to haul it out?” Brodie cupped his crotch, shaking his hips toward Tail.

  I was just glad the attention had moved away from me.

  “Fuuuck no.” Tail shuddered head to toe.

  Brodie shrugged. He turned his evil grin on me, flicking the foil-wrapped condom back at me. “Save that for your lady.”

  “Anything I can help with?” Hunter shouldered up.

  And all the attention swung back to me.

  “Nope.” I ended the conversation just like that, ducked my head, and got back to work.

  Everything got worse a few minutes later when a screaming engine had the men racing outside.

  I knew that sound.

  Sin. In her Trans Am. Trademark hotness.

  I ambled reluctantly into the parking lot after them.

  Chapter Five

  SEXY SIN STEPPED OUT of the hot as hell hot rod, and I swear, every man’s mouth dropped to the pavement.

  I preferred to glare.

  Her arms clutched in Sadie’s and JB’s, Sin was girlfriend tag-teamed into the MC while the leather-clad goons rolled their tongues back into their mouths.

  Of course, Sin didn’t even send a glance my way. She wouldn’t. Not after I’d told her the best thing she could do for both of us was stay out of my life.

  Brodie slapped me on the shoulder. “Looks like your cherry couldn’t keep away.”

  “Not. Mine,” I snarled.

  He let loose with a freewheeling laugh. “Yeah. Heard that so many times I lost count. And last time I checked all the brothers who said the same damn thing are happily shacked up with the woman they least expected.”

  Detective Ashe Kingston, the ass-kicking Vice cop, tucked her head against Brodie’s shoulder. “You too.”

  He dragged her up to his lips. “Not complaining. Just stating a fact.”

  I left them to get all touchy-feely and stalked back inside. Straight to the bar. Not sneaking glimpses at Sin at all. Nope.

  But what the fuck? Why was she here again after I’d warned her?

  And what the hell was she wearing this time?

  Not jeans. Not leathers. South Carolina in the summer made the women’s wardrobes smaller, tighter . . . sexier. She still looked pure class, but that skirt was only a couple of inches below her ass. She better not be planning on playing pool and bending over a table tonight, unless she wanted to bend over and present that plump ass to me.

  The goddamn skirt was white and frilly, and it barely covered the tops of her curvaceous thighs. Long, toned legs ended in sweet little thong sandals, and her pretty toenails were painted outrageous red. The silky-looking top clung loosely to her. It had some kind of netting all down the back, which made it pretty fucking apparent she wasn’t doing the bra thing.

  And then her nipples popped up when a cold blast from the A/C hit her.

  Fucking A.

  My lips thin, my shoulders tight, I filled Sin’s, JB’s, and Sadie’s drinks order while Sadie waited barside. She delivered them to her best buds, and I watched Sin suck and swallow and lick her lips as the beverage slid down her throat.

  She’d probably never swallowed come in her life.

  I wouldn’t mind breaking that streak.

  But I was too busy ignoring her.

  Riiiight.

  She, on the other hand, had no problem paying no attention to me whatsoever.

  When the inevitable rush of guys began hitting on her, she started flirting. Her lips curved—once again shiny, red, and bold—and I almost crushed the glass I was polishing. The dude who’d gained her attention looked like he’d just won the lottery. He was gonna win my fist in his face if he placed hands on her.

  I’d underestimated Sin though. She managed the polite and friendly—the come hither but not too close—effortlessly. She’d clearly been hit on a million times before by unsavory dudes, and she knew how to deal with them.

  And that begged the question: what the fuck was she doing on my turf again?

  About the time she racked up the pool balls, I imagined her flashing her fine ass to all and sundry. Fights would break out. Me? I’d probably be the prime suspect.

  Her eyes slid to me.

  Gotcha.

  I vaulted over the bar, waded through the throng, and grabbed the cue stick before she could take aim and break.

  “I don’t think you wanna do that.”

  “Why not?” Her eyes flashed up at me.

  “Because you got a slavering pack of male animals waiting for a glimpse of your ass. And I’m not in the mood to share.”

  “Who the hell said I was yours to share?”

  “I did.” A wicked smile curved my lips as I egged her on. “PS. It’s no surprise you’re gonna protest, go all catty on me. I don’t care.”

  “You arrogant asshole,” Sin hissed.

  Placing the pool stick back in the stand, I stared her down. “That all you got?”

  She hauled back and slapped me across the face.

  Her fire lit to rip-roaring rage, she stomped on my foot for good measure, too.

  I rubbed my cheek. “Anything else to get out of your system, precious?”

  “You’re a controlling dick,” she all but spat at me.

  “Yup.”

  “I do not like you.”

  “Then why are you here again?” I asked. “Why’d you show up at Inksanity?” Bending forward, I whispered, “Why’d you agree to let me pierce your pretty nipples?”

  “You . . . just . . .” Spluttering to a halt, she whipped her head back. “Fuck off.”

  “Ooh. Mommy and Daddy know you cuss like that?”

  Meanwhile, all the nosy bastards got a good show. Pool, darts, drinks forgotten as they leaned forward and hung on every hushed word we slung at each other.

  “I know a lot more curse words than that. Stop treating me like a little girl. I’m a grown woman.”

  I looked her over. That she was. A Grade A woman at that. I took Sin’s hand into mine and tugged her to me. “Let me get you a drink, and maybe we can dial it down? Before we set off more sparks.”

  That would be good. Talking. Anything that didn’t involve her flashing her ass to the entire MC.

  Sin curled her fingers around mine, stepping down. “I could do with a drink.”

  I settled her at a table and retrieved a whiskey for her, a
beer for me.

  Of fucking course I screwed everything up as soon as I sat down and opened my big dumb mouth. “Life on Easy Street too boring for you?”

  Sinclair didn’t even take a sip. She charged straight up off her chair. “You absolute bastard! I don’t even know why I let Sadie talk me into this in the first place.”

  I lounged back as she hesitated halfway between totally interested and way long gone. “So why are you here.”

  “What?”

  “You think I’m disrespectful.” Planting my elbows on the table, I swirled my beer. “You probably don’t even like me.”

  Sin sat down with a sigh. “I do like you. That’s the problem.”

  “Why?”

  “You’re nothing like any of the men I’ve dated before.” Her pale green eyes positively glowed as she took in my arms, my chest, and the ink revealed by my muscle shirt.

  She’d probably never been with a guy whose nipples were pierced either.

  I smirked, twin dimples seating into my cheeks. “Can’t say I’m surprised.”

  “And you’re egotistical.”

  “Not really. You just don’t know me and how good I can love you.”

  Her breath halted. Her cheeks turned pink.

  “You might just think I’m sexy. I have a brain too. Most guys only care about getting into my bank account or my bed,” she rushed out.

  “And you might think I’m the bad boy you can live out your fantasies with.” I jerked her chair closer, and it left skid marks on the floor. “But I’m a human being. I got a college degree and everything.” My warm breath coasted up her neck. “Maybe we should start at zero. Because I already know you’re way more than sexy.”

  “Zero level?”

  I sat back. Clinked my bottle against her glass. “Yeah. No expectations. And no more bickering.”

  After sliding her crimson red lips against the rim of her glass, she coddled the drink in her hands. “You always give me the good stuff. Not Jack.”

  “You noticed.”

  “I notice a lot of things. Like those horrible guys at the tattoo parlor. Why did you feel the need to warn me about them?”

  “I’ll take care of them.” My knuckles turned white as I clenched my beer. “You don’t need to worry.”