“Don’t let Linc hear you tell her that.” Ace shook his head when Trigger picked up a bottle of beer and flicked his chin toward him.
With my second drink in hand, my eyes bounced between the two men beside me. While I found them both attractive, my thoughts kept reverting to Lincoln. Not only did I think he was sexy, but I felt safe whenever he was around, a notion I hadn’t experienced in more time than I cared to admit.
“Hey, let me ask you something.” Ace moved his seat closer, bumping my leg with his. “You’re a girl.”
I looked down at myself, then back at him. “Last I checked.” My straw had somehow become glued to my lips, a steady stream of orange juice and vodka disappearing before my very eyes.
“What does it mean when a chick sleeps with you and is clearly interested, but then won’t agree to anything more?” I thought he was finished, but he held up his finger and kept going. “And when I mention that maybe I’m gonna mess around with other people since she clearly doesn’t want anything more with me, she gets all pissed off and starts screaming about how much of an ass I am and that she should’ve never got with me in the first place.”
Based solely on looks, whoever this girl was he referred to was crazy not to want to be with him. While I couldn’t quite figure out what color his eyes were exactly, the mixture of blue and green too close to determine, it was the faint dimple in his left cheek that showed whenever he talked that I was sure drew a lot of attention from the opposite sex. His hairstyle was longer than Brick’s, while still being short, the color a shade lighter than Lincoln’s.
“What the fuck, man?” Brick asked. He looked like he held back a laugh but also appeared confused by Ace’s outburst, much like me.
“What? She’s a chick. She knows how they think.”
“I have no idea,” I rushed to say, slurping the rest of my drink through the straw. “I’ve never had sex with anyone I wasn’t made to.” My admission didn’t sound as harsh out loud to me as it did inside my head, this yummy drink probably the reason why.
“Fuck,” Ace grumbled, scratching the back of his head. “I’m sorry, Maddie. I didn’t mean to…. Shit!”
“You’re an asshole,” Brick shouted, reaching over me to punch him on the arm. Ace nearly fell off his seat, catching his balance at the last second.
“I wasn’t thinkin’.”
“You’re damn right you weren’t.” Brick’s expression softened when he looked at me, clearly pissed at his buddy. But I knew Ace didn’t mean anything with his question. How would he know I’d say what I did? I didn’t even know I was gonna say something like that. The words just came out.
“It’s okay,” I said to Brick before turning to Ace. “It’s okay,” I repeated.
“I’m sorry,” he apologized again before accepting that beer from Trigger.
An hour and a half later, after two additional drinks and three cold pieces of pizza, I was the bravest I’d ever been. Two hot guys seemed genuinely interested in what I had to say, and for once, I didn’t fear they had an agenda or had thoughts for harming me in any way.
The more alcohol I drank, the more curious I became, asking them all sorts of personal questions. I learned that Ace’s real name was Jaime, that he grew up in foster care, and he got his nickname from playing poker. Cards was his way of hustling people before he joined this club, his way in being he went to school with Kaden, two years ahead of him to be exact. Ace loved to talk, as was evident with all the information he told me. Brick, on the other hand, refused to tell me his real name. I suspected he didn’t like it much. But he did tell me that he used to be a bouncer at one of the strip clubs they owned. Oh, and that he was thirty.
Trigger checked on me from time to time, reminding Ace and Brick to behave themselves, to which they would simply nod, occasionally tossing a wary glance at each other. Or, at least, that was my interpretation of the look they shared.
“My tongue is numb.” I laughed, smacking my lips together to make a weird sound.
“That’s because Trigger poured quite a few shots for you,” Ace replied, shaking his head at me when my mouth popped open dramatically.
“I didn’t have any shots.”
“What do you think is in your drinks?” When I stared at him like the proverbial deer in headlights, his grin got bigger, that damn dimple popping out. Or should I say sinking in? “Vodka.” He answered his own question. I stuck my finger in the remainder of my drink, pulled it out and put the digit in my mouth.
“It’s good,” I said, draining the rest of the contents. Trigger was back in front of me with another, only this time the color of the concoction was clear.
“It’s water. You gotta drink up or else you’re gonna have a nasty headache later.” The old guy walked away to tend to something else, leaving the tall glass of water a fingertip’s reach from me.
“You’re not feelin’ any pain, are ya?” Brick asked, leaning closer, his scent infiltrating my senses and making my head swoon. He smelled good.
“Nope. And I gotta tell ya,” I mumbled, slapping his arm. “It’s refreshing.”
“At least here, you don’t have to worry—”
“Shit!” Ace groaned on the other side of me.
“What?” his buddy asked, never finishing his sentence.
“Linc.” Ace pointed toward the door. “He’s comin’ over here and he doesn’t look happy.”
23
“Lincoln’s here?” I hadn’t realized I yelled my question until I saw Brick jam his finger in his ear as a joke, although the amused look he had on his face disappeared the second Lincoln walked up next to
