The Marked Men 3-Book Collection: Rule, Jet, Rome. Jay Crownover
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Nash shoved an elbow in my ribs, making me jostle the phone I was glaring holes into. I shoved it back into my pocket and picked up the beer I had been nursing for more than an hour. I caught the eye of a smoking-hot blonde who had been scoping me out under the radar since we walked into the bar and had to do a quick mental rundown of why I thought spending time with Shaw and figuring out how she had gotten my head all twisted and turned was a good idea when easy as pie was right in front of me. The blonde gave me a smile that all but screamed “I want you to take my pants off with your teeth,” and I almost choked when beer went down the wrong tube.
Jet snickered and rubbed a hand through his messy black hair. The guy looked like a rock star; he was lanky and had that permanent, freshly laid and right-outta-bed look that made girls stupid and dreamy-eyed with zero effort. He also had an awesome voice and could sing, like, really sing, which made the fact he chose to be in a heavy metal band ironic because most of his stuff with Enmity was screaming and loud. The guy was a consummate musician and could write a killer song as well as play pretty much any instrument he picked up. One night after a particularly nasty bout of beer pong, he had confessed that he liked metal because he couldn’t deal with the fame and adulation of more popular styles of music. The guy wanted to be in a band, but for reasons that made sense only to him, had no interest in being a full-blown rock star—even though he had the look and the vocal chops to do it.
“I swear you pull more tail than me and I’m in a freaking band. All you have to do is blink and you have broads falling all over themselves to have at it.”
I cleared my throat and set the beer down on the table. “Yeah, well, I told you guys I need to cut that shit out for a while.”
Jet looked over his shoulder at the blonde, then back at me with a smirk. “Good luck with that.”
Nash tossed back a shot and hissed out a breath through his teeth. “Cut him some slack, dude. He’s got a good thing working.”
“I’m just saying—he doesn’t have to even work at it.”
I pulled out my phone and checked the time for the hundredth time. “Something tells me that is about to be completely untrue.”
Jet and Nash both did another shot and Jet gave a howl. “The first band is getting ready to start so I gotta go make sure the guys are ready to kick some ass. We’re getting ready to finish the album we’ve been working on so we need to kill it tonight.” A round of fist-banging went back and forth and I sighed as the blonde gave me another pointed look. I didn’t mean to keep looking in her direction, but I guess old habits die hard.
“This blows.”
“Seriously, chill. Shaw is awesome. She’s a total babe, she’s got enough balls to give you your shit right back, and she knows you and still is willing to give you a shot. She’ll be here, so just calm down and tell your junk to freaking relax.”
My hair was still up in the crazy Mohawk, so I couldn’t run my hands through it; instead I rubbed the back of my neck and tapped my fingers on the edge of the table.
“Why do you think she wants to give this a shot? I mean, logically she knows I’m a bad bet. She knows what my history is like and generally we don’t have anything in common. I know I can’t get her out of my head, but what do you think her reasons are for seeing what this is all about?”
“I think she’s a superbright chick and, whatever her motivation is, she’s thought a lot about it. I don’t think she went to bed with you just because and I seriously doubt she agreed to kick it with you simply because you asked. I think if you can keep your head on straight and your dick in your pants you’ll eventually find out why she’s doing what she’s doing, and I’m pretty sure the reasons will knock you on your ass.”
“I think I’m certifiable for even thinking I’m going to be able to do this.” I liked girls, no-strings-attached sex, going where I wanted when I wanted, and not having to answer to anyone but myself—hooking up with Shaw put all those things on ice. I sighed again and let my eyes wander back over to the blonde. She was still looking at me, only now her very pretty face was scrunched up into a scowl. Her mouth was pulled in like she had tasted something sour and I couldn’t figure out what had changed in the minute since I had last caught her eye until I heard Nash mutter, “Damn,” and realized that every guy seated around us had turned to watch Shaw and Ayden as they made their way past the bar and toward where we were seated.
They made a striking pair—by far the classiest girls in the place. It was clear neither one had ventured down to Cerberus before. Shaw’s blond hair was loose and long, falling over shoulders that were bared in a black halter top. She had on skinny jeans that were so tight they looked like they would need to be surgically removed, and a pair of bright blue heels that should have looked ridiculous at a show like this, but instead had even old-school head bangers drooling in their pints. Ayden had her dark hair spiked up and sexy and was wearing a tiny little skirt and billowy purple top that completely fell off one shoulder. She was rocking a pair of black cowboy boots that had clearly seen some better days, but that didn’t stop the two of them from turning every single head, male and female, as they slid up to our table.
I didn’t know what to do so I just stared at Shaw while she stared back at me. I was pretty sure all the blood in my brain had been diverted south so I just blinked at her like an idiot while Nash chuckled and told both of them hello.
“Hey. Sorry we’re late, we had a bachelor party run over and it took us longer to get out of there than we thought it would.”
“I sent you a couple of texts to see what was going on.” I should be asking her if she wanted a drink, doing something to let her know I was happy she was here, but instead I was being surly and weird.
She frowned. “My phone is off.”
Ayden propped her elbows on the table and took the shot Nash offered her up. She glared at Shaw and pointed a finger at her. “Tell him why it’s off.” There was accusation there and I saw, even in the dim light of the bar, the way Shaw flushed.
I put a hand on her lower back and bent down so that my lips were touching her ear. I felt her tense but she leaned her hip into mine. “Why is your phone off, Casper?”
She shifted her weight from foot to foot. “Because Gabe is blowing it up. My mom invited his parents to Brookside Country Club for dinner next weekend and they expect us both to be there. He has it in his head that we should ride up there together and won’t leave me alone about it, so I turned my phone off because he’s making me crazy and I don’t even want to go in the first place.”
A cocktail waitress chose that moment to walk by so the girls ordered drinks and I got another beer. I pressed Shaw closer to my side and turned so that we were facing each other.
“So what are you going to do about it?”
She flattened a palm on the center of my chest right over my heart and looked up at me with sad, green eyes. “I