Page 68 of Sangre
“The asshole was giving Capri a hard time. When I called him on it, he disrespected me.”
Brutus chuckled. “These fuckers never learn. You staying for the Best Tits Contest?”
Since the club began the weeknight competition, the place was packed. He shook his head. “I think I’ll head out.” The altercation made him think about Isla and how her jerk boyfriend was at the club manhandling a waitress when he should’ve been with her. At that moment, the desire to see her overpowered him. It was like she’d gotten under his skin and made him crave her. It was a new experience for him, and it sent static charges jumping through his body. Just thinking about her made him feel a slight tug in his jeans.The damn douchebag doesn’t fucking deserve her.He knew he should just go back to the clubhouse, but he didn’t want to; he wanted to spend some time with Isla.
His Harley roared as he left the parking lot and headed to Isla’s house. He wasn’t sure if the ass wipe would be there licking his wounds while Isla smothered his bruised face with her kisses. Anger shot through him as images of her cradling the dirt bag’s head in her lap whirled in his mind.
When he pulled up in front of Isla’s house, he saw Keith parked in front, and he went over to his car. The bodyguard rolled down the window.
“How are things?” he asked his employee.
“Quiet.”
“No one showed up to see her?”
“Nope. She’s been inside since I got here. The only thing happening around here is that lemonade stand. The two girls are killin’ it.” He chuckled.
“Did a fuckin’ badge show up to get some lemonade?”
Keith nodded slowly. “Come to think of it, a cop did come by and buy a glass. He kept looking at Ms. Rose’s house even after he’d finished drinking. I didn’t think anything about it. I just figured he was keeping an eye on her. Should I watch out for him?”
“Yeah. Let me know how often he comes by. If he ever starts to go up to her house, call me. I don’t want him getting into the house with her.”
“Noted. Are you taking over?”
“I’m not sure. I’ll let you know in a bit.” Sangre turned away and walked up the sidewalk. Ringing the doorbell several times, he grew concerned.Keith didn’t see her leave, so she must be inside. Why the hell isn’t she answering?The notion that she didn’t want to see him crossed his mind, but he dismissed it and rang the bell again. He was ready to go around back and try and break in when he heard light footfalls approaching.
The door swung open and Isla, looking delectable in shorts and a tank top, stood staring at him.
“Hey,” he said, opening the screen door. He brushed past her, and the wicked scent of her perfume made him want to throw her against the wall and kiss her hard as he shoved her shorts down and slipped his finger inside.
“What do you want?” She closed the door and followed him into the living room.
“My mom said you told Rachel you were coming for Sunday supper. I just wanted to confirm that with you.”
“You couldn’t just phone?”
“Why? Don’t you want to see me?”
“You ghosted me, so I guess the answer is no.” She went over to the window and stared out. Isla was in a funk, and he didn’t think it was entirely because he’d disappeared from the radar for a few days.
Sangre went over to the wet bar and knelt down, taking out small bottles of booze and reading their labels.
“What do you want? Whiskey, vodka, rum, or gin?”
“A rum and Coke would be good. Wait, did I drink all of the Coke?”
“One left.” He pulled it out and stopped when he heard the song that was playing. Looking over his shoulder, he saw her leaning against the window staring out. “What happened?”
She glanced sideways and gave him a questioning look.
He stood up holding four small bottles and a can of Coke in his large hands. “You used to only play Journey songs when something shitty was happening.”
She faced him. “My life doesn’t have to be in a state of chaos to listen to Journey.”
He put the bottles down on the coffee table and walked toward her. “Yeah, it does. Do you wanna talk about it?”
Turning back around, she stared out the window again. “Maybe I’m just in a nostalgic mood.” She pressed her head against the glass.
