Page 3 of Retaliation
“Sticking around for a bit?” He leaned toward me, muscular arms stretching his shirt sleeves.
I caught a whiff of his whiskey and sage scent and inhaled deeply, finding it oddly relaxing. I dipped my head and winked playfully. “I could be persuaded.”
Dev grinned and poured a double shot of Jack into a glass. I grazed his fingers as I took the glass, a spark of heat passing between us. It was always like that, but for the two months since I started renting his apartment upstairs, I hadn’t acted on the urges to drag him into my bed. And I would not be sharing how many times I used my vibrator and thought of his hands on my body. I could tell he was into me, but he was so damn private, he’d never really made a move beyond our little bar bantering. As he pulled back, I noticed a new tattoo on his wrist. His arms were covered in tattoos, but this one looked fresh—and strange.
I nodded toward his outstretched arm. “Did you get a new tattoo?”
He frowned, looking at his wrist. “No. I’ve had this for a while now.”
“Are you sure? It looks new.”
Was he lying? The ink was clearly brighter than the rest of the tattoos on his arm.
Dev shook his head, his bright eyes avoiding mine. “Nah. It’s just the bar lights playing tricks.”
He was definitely lying, but I wasn’t about to ruin my cover by going all detective on him now.
I shrugged casually and smiled. “Yeah, for sure. It’s cool. I’m a sucker for tattoos.”
“Don’t move, beautiful.” He winked, and my insides heated.
Beards, tattoos, and cute smiles really looked good on him. I’d tracked his movements, and he never brought women back to his place. I saw him leave at the end of his shift with a female or two, but never back to his apartment upstairs, which was across from mine. We both kept our sanctuaries firmly in the no guests zone.
I watched Dev work, wondering if he’d be rough and let his bad boy loose in bed. The way he tossed kegs and shoved the drunks around, I could definitely see it. Okay fine, he was hot, and I could definitely see myself pinned against the bar, his beard tickling my throat as he trailed kisses down my neck. Maybe I just needed to get laid; like well and truly fucked by someone who could make my blood boil and finally give my body the sexual release it needed. Maybe one little night of—fingers crossed—real pleasure would be worth it? My plans wouldn’t change. He’d still die with the others. Who said I couldn’t make him moan my name before I cut his throat?
I clenched my thighs and gulped down the whiskey. Mina was feeling extra feisty today, and I was having a difficult time keeping her in check. Bitch been real quiet for years now and you perk up for an enemy? And yes, I named my vagina. I called her Mina, after the character in the novel Dracula. Even though Lucy was presented as the slutty one, Mina was all lust and danger when she gave into the darkness.
“Hey there, girlie,” a deep voice slurred into my ear, making me jerk back.
I looked up into a pair of glassy, familiar eyes. I scooted away as a pudgy, old man sat down on the stool next to mine.
“Hey, Jackson.” I rolled my eyes at him, a regular at The Haven.
Jackson also managed a garage not far from here. He let me self-service my bike there for free because of my sweet-as-pie smile, so I tolerated a little drunken flirting. While he wasn’t unattractive, he was pushing sixty, and I wasn’t generally interested in men old enough to be my father. He was also married, so not really my type. Oh, and of course, the whole bit where he belonged to the cult that destroyed my family.
“How’s the little blue bird doing tonight?” He leaned into my personal space, tugging my silvery blue hair.
His stale beer breath made me want to vomit. His eyes dipped down my body, and I held back a shiver. Just, no. If I wasn’t trying to maintain a low profile, I’d smash his head into the bar until his nose cracked. I sipped my drink, imagining it instead.
“Just fine, thanks.” I pulled Jackson’s grimy hand out of my hair and turned away from him to continue watching Dev work. I noted his frown from the other end of the bar as he glanced our way.
Jackson, who clearly could not take a hint, tugged the arm of my sweater. “You’re looking lonely tonight, blue bird.”
I pulled my arm out of his grasp with a tight smile. “I’m not. Thanks, though.”
He leaned in closer, grabbing my arm, and I winced where his grip connected with the cut from earlier. “Come on—”
“Jackson,” Dev’s gruff voice cut in, and I turned to see him standing behind us, his shadow bearing down on Jackson. He glared down at the drunk mechanic. “Time to go home, man.”
He gripped Jackson’s wrist and twisted until he let go of my arm with a little cry of pain. A tattoo on Jackson’s arm caught my eye, and I nearly choked on my tongue. He had a simple design of the letter O, the mark of The Obscuritas. It was easy enough to overlook, but I’d seen enough of them on the lackeys I’d taken down already to notice it. I let my gaze search up and down Dev’s muscular arms for the same mark, but I couldn’t see it among his many other tattoos. Fuck, I loved tattoos.
“I’m just talkin’ to her, Dev. It’s no big thing.” Jackson smiled broadly and stood, nearly tipping over.
Dev caught him, towering over the man by several inches.
“The conversation is over. Go home, Jackson. Home to your wife.” Dev enunciated the last word.
I wrinkled my nose. Fucking cheaters. He deserved his death for that alone.
