Chapter 4
Train
“What’s the name of the girl that was dancing on the stage?” I ask the bartender once it becomes clear that the girl isn’t going to come out anytime soon.
The bartender, a big, burly, bald guy that looks like he spends more time drinking beer than serving it, stares at me, shaking his head.
“You can forget it, buddy. Better men that you have tried,” he laughs.
Honestly, I don’t doubt that he’s telling me the truth, but it still pisses me off.
“I didn’t ask your opinion, just her name.”
“I know. I don’t give the girls’ names. My opinion was just a bonus,” he replies. I don’t say shit because I can’t fault the son of a bitch for protecting the women, but I wouldn’t mind planting my fist in his face at the same time.
I’m tense. I don’t like waiting and right now, I feel like I’m on a razor’s edge. It’s almost as if I can hear a clock ticking in my head. My gaze moves back to the door the girl disappeared through earlier. I stare at it as if I can command her to appear—which of course I can’t. Then, a thought occurs to me. I get up, throwing money down for my drink. It’s a cheap tip I leave, but the bartender is lucky to get that from me.
I head outside, but instead of going to my bike, I turn to the right and proceed to go to the corner of the building and walk down into the alley. I lean against the building across from the bar. The brick is hard and rough against my back but allows me to take the weight off my legs a little. There’s a door directly across from me. I’m going purely on instinct, and I may be too late, but I figure it’s worth a shot. I reach in my pocket and pull out a smoke, trapping it between my lips while I light it. I barely have my first drag when I smile as the door opens. On instinct, my hand goes to my piece I’m carrying. When I see the gorgeous woman from earlier step out, I move my hand away.
She was sexy as fuck baring most everything on stage, but hell, she’s just as sexy in faded jeans that are molded to her curves. She has a pale pink t-shirt on, a black leather jacket, and serious black boots that look to be steel-toed Red Wings. They’re the kind of boots you wear to do either heavy work or ride like a motherfucker, and as fucking weird as it seems—they make my cock ache even more than those ankle-breaking stilettos she was dancing in. Her black hair is down, the large mass of small curls falling around her face like a waterfall. It’s so dark the streetlight bounces off it, causing an almost purple tint. She’s got the kind of hair a man can wrap his hands in and pull while he’s riding her body hard. Damn it, if my balls tighten any further, my cock swells any harder, they’ll both need an ice pack for days.
Her eyes dilate when she sees me, but I see her straighten her back and wipe the surprise from her face quickly.
“Waiting on someone?”
I exhale, blowing the smoke into the air while enjoying the drag of nicotine, but nothing like I’m enjoying the sound of her voice.
“You,” I respond simply.
Her eyes narrow. “What do you want?”
I tilt my head, watching her closely. “You,” I repeat, seeing as how my answer is the same.
That makes her lips twitch and I really want to taste them.
“You should give those up. They’re bad for your health,” she replies, nodding her head slightly toward my smoke.
“I’ve heard that.”
“Yet, you still keep smoking,” she replies, an easy smile forming on her lips. She moves so she’s leaning against the wooden wall of the bar, standing opposite of me, mimicking my pose. Damn, I really like this girl’s style.
“Last of a dying breed, I guess. What’s your name?” I ask, taking another drag before dropping it to the ground and grinding it out with the heel of my boot. The truth is, I don’t smoke that often and never that much. It’s just sometimes the hit of nicotine takes the edge away. In my life, there are times the stress can be heavy. It doesn’t happen often, but it does happen. Ghost getting hurt is definitely one of those times.
“What’s yours?” she asks.
“Train.”
“That’s your name?” she questions, clearly not believing me.
“Only one I use,” I qualify, still studying her.
“Disappointing,” she responds, and then, before I can so much as blink…
She turns and walks away.
Chapter 5
Train
It’s very rare that I chase after anything or anyone. Since this chick isn’t someone I want to kill, I feel safe in saying this has never happened. Yet, I still find myself following her. My long legs eat up the distance between us. Until I catch her by the arm and pull her back around to face me.
“Where you heading, Midnight?”
“Midnight?” she asks, looking pointedly at my hand on her arm.
“You won’t give me your name, so I decided to give you a nickname,” I respond, not letting go of her arm.
“Midnight was the nickname you came up with?”
“Definitely.”
I probably shouldn’t reach out and touch her hair, but then, I’ve never been the kind of man who does what he should. So, I let my fingers tangle into her thick, lush curls. Sweet sensation fills me as I imagine the thick mane brushing against my cock, my length disappearing between her full, pink lips. A groan leaves me just from the force of my fantasies.
“Are you enjoying yourself?”
“You have no fucking idea,” I mutter.
“You have two choices here, Train.”
I smile because I like the way she says my name. I’d like it even more if she was saying it naked and chained to my bed.
“What’s that?”
“Choice number one is that you let me go and step the hell away from me.”
“I’m not a big fan of that one. What’s choice number two?” I ask, my thumb brushing back and forth on her arm, wishing like fuck she didn’t have a jacket on. My other hand is still playing with the ends of her hair. I breathe her sweet honey scent into my lungs and Christ, I’m pretty sure it brands me as I inhale.
Sweet, clean beauty.
“Choice number two is that I make you let go of me,” she says calmly, not backing down an inch.
“You think you can do that, Midnight?” I ask, still holding her hair but not moving.
Instead, I find myself appraising her. She’s confident and there’s not a bit of nerves evident. She’s self-assured, definitely has a backbone, and is not about to cower despite me being intimidating and towering over her. I liked her instantly. Now, I’m about two steps away from falling in love with her.
“You think you can handle the pain? Try me,” she says.
She doesn’t know it, but her little show is making my cock hard as rock and putting her in danger of being thrown over my shoulder and tied to my bed.
“Maybe I like pain,” I murmur.
“If that’s the way you want it.”
“I’m bigger than you are,” I warn her.
“What’s that saying? The bigger they are, the harder they fall. The way I figure it, Train, you should fall really hard.”