Page 54 of Renegade
“That was a sad story you told.” The guy who’s been sitting across from us at the poker table takes a seat next to me at the bar, a glass of whiskey in front of him. “Were you friends with the guy who died?”
“Yes. We served on the same SEAL team together. He was like a brother to me.”
The guy raises his eyebrows. “You’re a SEAL?”
I nod.
“Impressive.” He unbuttons the top two buttons of his tuxedo shirt. “It’s hot in here.”
“It is,” I agree. “The monkey suit doesn’t help.”
He laughs. “You’ve got that right.” He rolls up his sleeves, revealing the most unique tattoo I’ve ever seen on his right forearm. It looks like some sort of symbol.
“Cool tattoo,” I say.
“Thanks. You know what it is?”
I shake my head. “I’ve never seen anything like it. What is it?”
He flashes me a grin as he takes a long pull of his drink. “Hell if I know. I was drunk when I got it. But it looks cool, doesn’t it?”
I nod.
“Pretty girl you’re with,” he continues, taking a drink. “I bet that pale skin of hers marks beautifully.”
I smile coolly. As far as I can tell, he’s not here with anyone. “It does. But just to be clear, she’s mine.”
He holds his hands up, still smiling good-naturedly. “Just looking at the menu, bro. I’m not going to order.” He glances over at the poker table. “We’d better get back. Looks like they’re ready to start again.”
Gemma’s already at the table when we sit down, and she catches my eye, looks over at the guy I was talking to, then back at me with a pointed look I can’t quite decipher. If she’s interested in playing with him, she’s sorely mistaken. She can do whatever the hell she wants with Declan or anyone else after today, but tonight she’s still mine.
Two hands later, she goes all in on a flush, only to be beaten by a full house.
“Damn!” She slumps back in her chair, a pout on those gorgeous, full lips of hers. I can’t resist kissing her, my fingers threading in her hair to pull her head back so I have access to her creamy white throat.
I snap my teeth teasingly a couple of times and growl before releasing her. “Mmm…the things I want to do to you. Why don’t you take my bag and find a room where you can wait for me?” For some reason, I don’t like the idea of her kneeling here next to me. It seems demeaning, somehow. The thought of her waiting for me in a private room, her anticipation building as she looks through my bag and weighs the flogger in her hands—and I know that’s exactly what she’ll do—now that’s another story.
The guy I talked to at the bar goes all in on a pair of eights the next hand and loses, so now it’s down to me and two other men. Another twenty minutes later, I’ve won the entire pot. It looks like tonight is my lucky night, and it’s still early enough to claim my spoils. If we aren’t going to find Valor tonight, at least I can enjoy one more night of playing with Gemma, even if it’s just here and I can’t make love to her.
I find Gemma in one of the last private rooms at the back of the second floor. Although “private” is a bit of a misnomer. There’s a small window with a blind that’s open, and I can see that Gemma’s not alone. Tattoo guy is with her, and she’s strapped to a St. Andrew’s cross. His face is just inches from hers, and she’s staring at him, wide-eyed.
White-hot rage sears through me. If that asshole has laid so much as a finger on her, he’s going to regret the day he was born. I kick open the door and I’m next to him in two seconds, yanking him away from her at the same time my fist connects with his stomach. He drops to his knees, doubled over in pain.
“What part ofminedon’t you understand, motherfucker?”
I grab him by the hair, hauling him upright so I can punch him again in the nose. “It’s a good thing you have that unique tattoo,” I say. “It will make identifying you at the morgue easier.”
“Walker, stop it!” Gemma’s voice sounds far away over the roaring in my ears.
“You’re safe, sweetheart,” I say. “Just give me a second to take care of this scumbag and then I’ll get you down from there.”
Soft but insistent hands grab my shoulder as I pull my arm back to punch him again. “Walker! Stop! I was just standing against it so it would look like we were in the middle of a scene and wouldn’t get interrupted. He didn’t even touch me. This is Valor.”
I turn and stare into Gemma’s green eyes. Gemma, who isn’t strapped to the St. Andrew’s cross but is standing next to me, still looking sexy as fuck in that dress. “What?” I’m having trouble processing what she’s saying. “Tattoo guy from the bar is Valor?” I don’t buy it. I push her behind me. “I don’t think so, sweetheart. I made no secret of the fact we were looking for him. This guy had a conversation with me at the bar and never said a word about him being Valor. He’s just trying to get into your panties.”
“That would be hard, since I’m not wearing any,” Gemma says impudently.
“Not the time, Gem,” I say tightly, but my lips are twitching. So is my cock. I turn back to tattoo guy. He’s holding up his hands and eying me warily. “I swear, I didn’t touch her. We were just talking.” His gaze moves to Gemma. “Is he trustworthy?”
