Page 11 of Sangre
“If you wanna believe that crock of shit, go ahead. We’ll see,” Army said.
“Yeah… we will. This is just business.” Annoyance laced his voice. Army always had his mind on tits and asses. He was being ridiculous. Sangre grabbed another beer.This is just a job. No fuckin’ big deal. So what if this Isla Rose chick is hot as hell. A lot of women are hot. I’m not a goddamn teenager.
“You coming with us?” Skull asked as he sidled up to the bar.
“Can’t. I’ve gotta meet my new client,” Sangre replied.
“Didn’t you meet her last night? My sister was over the fuckin’ moon that she got the chick’s autograph, and then promised her the rest of the band would sign it. I’ll admit I was blown away with the way she sang. Damn, that woman’s got a great pair of vocal chords.”
And tits. Fuck. Stop.Sangre pushed away from the bar. “The band was good. I wasn’t really expecting to like their music. All right, I’m outta here.” He lifted his fist in the air and added as he walked out, “Have a good ride. Next time, brothers.” The last thing he wanted was Skull talking about her. She was his client, and he had to act like a professional, and he definitely had to stop thinking about her tits, her full lips, her heart-shaped face, and how soft she felt when she fell against him the night before. Nope… he was a businessman and needed to act like one, no matter how sexy his client was.
Sangre pulled up in front of the club’s pool hall and went inside, jerking his head at Crow and Muerto as he sauntered over to the bar. Several groups of men played pool at the different tables. He was hoping to get in a game before meeting the singer, but it didn’t look like that was going to happen.
“Hey,” he said as he sat on a barstool. “You’re crowded today.”
“It’s Sunday. The men come here while their women do the church thing,” Crow said, wiping down the counter. “What’ll you have?”
“A shot of Jack and whatever you got on tap. I have to meet a client in a bit, so I’m just killing some time.”
Crow put the glass in front of him. “It’s a fuckin’ good day to go for a ride. I was planning to do just that, but one of the employees called in sick, so I’m stuck here instead of riding.”
“I know what you mean.” Sangre took a slug, loving the heat spreading around his mouth and throat. Being a biker meant that riding waseverything,and every opportunity that came up to ride was taken. When riding was impossible, it was talked about. Motorcycles—Harleys in particular—were the favorite topic of conversation among bikers; it surpassed women by a long shot.
“I’m surprised you’re meeting with a client on a Sunday,” Muerto said as he came around the bar.
“It’s not the usual gig. The job’s for a bodyguard, and the client wants to start tonight.” Sangre finished off his beer.
“Is it that rocker girl?” Muerto asked.
“Yeah. She thinks someone’s out to get her.” He glanced over at the pool tables. Still occupied.
“And you don’t think so?” Crow said.
“With these drama divas, who knows? She’s paying us, so I’ll just do what she wants. But right now, I really want to play a game of pool.”
“You should’ve stayed at the clubhouse. It’ll be packed up until dinner time, then the dudes have to run home to their wives and kids. I’m so glad I’m single.” Crow chuckled.
“Me too. I’d hate to make excuses about wanting to hang with the brothers and to have a ball and chain around me twenty-four seven. Not for me.” Sangre took out a joint and lit it, inhaling deeply.
“It’s not like that,” Muerto said. “It’s fun to be with your woman and do shit together. I guess it depends on how she is. Raven isn’t clingy. She needs her time alone and gets that I need mine as well. It works good between us.”
“I’ll take your word for it, bro, but I don’t want to experience it,” Sangre replied.
For the next two hours, the brothers talked about motorcycles, Sturgis, and the possibility of building the strip mall. When the clock hit six, Sangre stretched out his legs then stood up. “I’ve gotta go.”
He walked out of the pool hall, straddled his Harley, and took off with a roar.
When Isla Rose entered his office, her face fell, and he had to bite his inner cheek to keep from busting up. It was fucking priceless.
“What are you doing here?” she asked as she sat on the chair he pulled out for her. Her perfume was a smoky, warm amber scent with a sexy touch of spiciness that made it a bit dark. Smelling it made him think of warm summer evenings riding through Chaco Canyon at sunset with Halestorm’s “I Get Off” swirling around him.Fuck.
“I asked you a question.” She pulled down her crop top but not before he caught a glimpse of dark, burgundy roses curling up her right side.
He snapped his eyes away and went behind the desk. There was no way he was going to think about how far up her tattoo went, or how he wanted to see all of it and all of her. Clearing his throat, he took out a pen and pad and gazed at her. The way the sun caught the neon blue streaks in her hair, and cast a subdued rose glow over her face, was beautiful.
“I own the company.”
She leaned forward, exposing more cleavage than he figured she was aware of, and pointed her finger at him. “You! Why the hell didn’t you tell me that last night? You knew who I was.”
