Page 120 of Rough Hard Fierce (Chicago Underground 1-3)
I wouldn’t leave, of course. My purpose was too important.
Between the strobing lights and grind of bodies, I’d never find him. He would already be here. What if he didn’t come at all?
He had to.
“Hey, sweetheart,” a low voice said. My heart thumped, and I turned. It wasn’t him.
This guy wore a wifebeater and hair spiked into a Mohawk. I hadn’t even known that was in style. I was too old for this scene, though that had little to do with the pitter-patter of the calendar. I’d grown into a woman, or at least my own version of that ideal. I had a ways to go, but I had the time to do it in. And hope. I had hope now.
“I’m waiting for someone,” I said.
He smiled, flashing white teeth. “I can be your someone.”
Ugh, what did I expect at a bar?
“Sorry,” I said. And I was. There wasn’t anything wrong with him. He was the kind of guy I could date, but there wasn’t any chance of that.
He melted back into the throng of dancers.
A space opened at the bar, so I sat down. The bartender slid me my drink.
At least the alcohol was the same. Watery, the way I liked it. I never wanted to be out of control, never again.
A hand closed around my arm, and I jumped. The briefest of flashbacks assailed me, of another man grabbing me from behind at this bar, but it faded as I turned to Colin.
He’d come! His familiar face drowned out the rest of the club.
It had been a test, I saw now. Not that I’d wanted to hurt him or stick it to him, but I had to know how he felt about me. If he could let me come here to sleep with another guy, coupled with the fact that he’d moved out, I’d have to assume he really didn’t want me. And then I’d have to move out, because I couldn’t remain a squatter in his house.
Rose had done her part and told Colin that I was back on the prowl, heading to the club to pick up some random guy for rough sex. I’d played my part, but I wouldn’t have followed through. If Colin hadn’t shown up, I definitely wouldn’t have had sex with any of these guys.
But he’d come, looking angry and fierce and everything perfect.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he raged. “You’re leaving. Now!”
“Thank God,” I said. “Let’s go.”
I hopped off the stool and grabbed his hand, then beelined for the exit, practically shoving people out of my way in my haste. Once outside I put my hand against the brick wall and sucked in air, but it stank. We needed to get away from here.
“Where to?” I asked.
“Home,” he practically thundered. “You’re going home.”
I considered that. “No,” I said. “I think I told you once that I don’t bring guys home.”
“I’m not coming with you,” he ground out. “I’m putting you in the car and sending you there.”
“I’ll drive to another club,” I said.
“Then I’ll follow you there and drag you out.”
“How very stalkerish,” I said. “Do you follow girls around in clubs often?”
He stopped then and closed his mouth, probably because he had followed me at the club, according to Rose.
“Do you have a motel room we could use, perhaps?” I asked.
He glared at me. I knew he wanted to tell me to go home, but he knew it wouldn’t work. And perhaps it had dawned on him now what I was about in this game. Or maybe he’d known all along and come anyway, his baser instincts winning out over whatever strange logic had kept him away.
