The one who sassed me with that hot, come-here grin. She should run to me, not away from me.
Since when? Aylin's not mine.
A tingle tickled my wrist and moved upward. The sensation lit a fire in my blood and awakened my soul. I rubbed my arm to sooth the discomfort as my thoughts drifted to Aylin's touch. My blood simmered.
“Honey bear, you left me for this joint?”
My head snapped up at the annoying whine of a woman who definitely wasn't running from me.
Catherine's perfectly manicured hand wrapped around my shoulders. My blood ran cold. She leaned her body over mine until her breasts pushed against my shoulders.
Twenty minutes ago, her blatant attempt at getting into my pants would have worked. After my interaction with Aylin, the thought sickened me. I washed down my revulsion with another gulp of my beer. I should have left with Aylin.
“Sorry, Cat, but I'm calling it a night.” I finished off my beer and rose.
She must have misinterpreted my need to leave, because she whispered, “Your place or mine?”
Her hot breath did little to ignite any form of passion within me. No, Aylin's touch left me scorched from the inside out. My body called to her. Only her.
I was pussy-whipped by a woman who I kissed once. A woman who would hang my balls up by a string if she knew I thought of her sexually. But I couldn't get her out of my mind. I rubbed my tingling wrist. Every sign pointed to Aylin hiding something, and I intended to find out what.
Chasing her could be fun. I smiled. Dangerous, but fun.
Catherine stroked my hand, but I stepped back, hands raised. “No, Catherine. I'm sorry, but it's over.”
“What the fuck, Connor? You're such a freaking tease.” She glared at me.
Oh, well. I felt bad for how my evening turned out, but I couldn't proceed with Cat when my body was calling for Aylin. I wasn't wired that way. “I'm sorry, Cat.”
She stormed off and ran right into Brad. I couldn't make out what she said, but her animated arms screamed, “I'm pissed.” He placed a hand around her shoulders and glared at me.
I marched to the bar and paid off my tab and Aylin's.
“So, how've you been?” Murphy grabbed a rag and wiped the bar in front of me. His actions seemed too cautious, too measured.
“Fine.” I waited for him to get to his point.
Murphy was about six feet of pure bulk topped with tattoos and long hair. He lived a rough life, but was kind and accepted our pack with open arms. Despite his rugged looks, he was shy.
His gaze shifted to the far side of the room, but soon returned to me. “And Aylin?” He twisted the rag in his hands, before plopping it in a sanitation bucket.
I clenched my fists under the bar and reminded myself that Murphy was old enough to be Aylin's grandpa. I stretched my fingers and tried to relax. “I'm not sure, Murphy.”
“She's been in here a lot lately. Always late at night. Always after the next drunken binge. If I didn't know any better, I would say she's running from something.”
I ran a hand through my hair. “I think you may be onto something. Listen, if she comes in here again, give me a call.” I scribbled my number on a napkin and slid it across the counter.
“Sure thing.” He slipped the napkin into his pocket and glanced over my shoulder. “I think trouble's stirring.”
The hair on the back of my neck stood on alert. I turned to look. Brad and three of his overly large buddies huddled close together. With fists raised, each one had a varying level of disgust displayed on his face. Cat clung to Brad's arm, smiling like she had won the lottery.
“Fuck!” I muttered and headed for the door. No way would I get into another fight here. The last time, Murphy made me repair every piece of furniture and even had me paint the damn bar. He wasn't too forgiving when it came to his precious baby.
“No fighting in the bar!” Murphy shouted over the mutters, which died instantly.
When I passed the men displaying their self-evident bravado, I never faltered. I gave a slight nod. “Gentlemen.”
“Hey!”
I ignored Brad and walked out the door. Obviously, my earlier conversation with him hadn’t sunk in. I should have taken him on earlier, but then my concern had been Aylin.
I welcomed the cold breeze. My boots crunched across the partially frozen pebbles that lined the gravel parking lot.
Someone grabbed my shoulder and spun me around. Brad, with his goons close behind him. Cat followed at a slower pace.
“Hey, I'm talking to you.”
“Brad, I'm not up for a fight tonight. Just go home, enjoy your company with Cat and leave me and Aylin alone.”
Cat's smile widened. “See,” she whispered to Brad, whose nostrils' flared.
I could almost see the steam rising from his head in the cold night air. His whole demeanor screamed it was time to take off the gloves. I rarely started fights, but I never backed down from one. My position within the pack required me to stay fit and keep members inline, and that meant having my status as second-in-command challenged.
Tonight, Brad wanted blood.
“You're a cocky sumabitch,” he drawled, the alcohol slurring his insult.
The bar door banged as more patrons stepped into the parking lot seeking free entertainment.
“Brad, I need to check on Aylin. We can discuss this once you sober up.” I fought the urge to stuff my chilled hands into the pockets of my jeans and met Brad's glare. I wasn't challenging him, but I'd be damned if I showed submission to him either.
He grabbed the front of my shirt. “You take out this beauty”—he pointed to Cat with his free hand—“while you're fucking someone else, then rub it in her face?”
I grabbed
