Page 23 of Grave Curse

“Oh, now that was good.” Roxie pointed a manicured finger at Red, clearly forgiving him his somewhat alarming name because he had a gift for smooth talk. She slid to the end of the booth in an obvious exit move. “I’m going to go see about where our next round is. What are you drinking, Red?”

“Normally I’d say beer. But,” he glanced significantly at the two empty martini glasses in front of me, “I think I’d better stick to Coke.”

“Get the man a beer, Rox,” I encouraged her before she could take a step. Sure, I was getting my tipsy on in a big way, but I was still the product of my upbringing. No way in hell was I going to let a man I didn’t even know drive my fine ass home when I was vulnerable. “I’ve already booked my ride for an hour from now. I’m covered.”

“You can always unbook it.” His angel’s voice was smoother than silk, but in those khaki-colored eyes of his I thought I caught a flash of irritation. No surprise there. Getting turneddown flat was probably a rare thing for him. “What do you say we keep the party rolling and not worry about stupid shit like pick-up times?”

I glanced at Roxie, who was the best friend ever as she hovered by the table waiting to see what I wanted to do. I sent her off to the bar with a quick chin lift before turning my full attention to Red.

“I need to know something straight-up, and I’d appreciate it if you would answer me honestly.” My tongue was having a little trouble forming the words and I felt flushed from my knees all the way up, but I was positive I still had enough wits about me to figure him the hell out. “Who do you ride with?”

I didn’t know if it was a good sign or a bad sign when he didn’t so much as lift a brow. “What?”

Oh. So he chose to insult my intelligence. Okay. “Don’t play me, Red Flag. I’ll tear you to fucking bloody shreds and leave you in my wake, as forgotten as a speed bump, if you choose to play me. Is that what you’re choosing to do?”

“Damn, what a mouth.” For some reason he smiled full-on, looking almost like the Joker. “What makes you think I ride with anyone?”

“Are we really going to be pussies about this and answer questions with questions?”

He graduated from a smile to an outright laugh. “Holy shit, that attitude of yours is something else.”

“Still not answering the question, yo.”

“I rode with the Texas Copperheads from the time I could reach the handlebars,” he said, still grinning. “But I recently moved to Chicago for personal reasons. Family reasons, and that’s my business, not yours,” he added when I opened my mouth to dig into that. “Roxie told me you grew up in the life. That true?”

“More like I survived it.” I once again slipped my hand from his to touch the scars on my forearms, before crossing my arms to rest them on the table. “That’s all in the past, though. I live a solid civilian life now and I love it. I’m out of that life now and forever, thank fucking Christ. Hope you can hear what I’m saying.”

“I hear you.” But he said it absently as his gaze snagged on the straight-line scars decorating my forearms. “Who did that to you?”

Unlike him, I was polite enough to not insult his intelligence by playing dumb. “Me.”

“You were a cutter?”

“I didn’t do it voluntarily.”

“But you did cut yourself.”

“With a straight razor, yes.”

He stared at me, clearly mystified. At last, I’d become a woman of mystery. Yay me.

“Someone forced you to do it,” he said at length. Took him long enough. “Who?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

To my shock, his hand snaked out and caught my chin, forcing my gaze to his. “Who?”

Thenerve. “Watch it, pal.” With great deliberation I reached up and removed his hand from my face before drilling him full of holes with my very best pretend-goddess glare. “You can look, but don’t ever touch. And as for my scars, they’re mine to own along with their stories. Respect my boundaries or fuck off. Choice is yours.”

He blinked, and for a moment I could almost believe he’d been blinded by all my pretend-goddess brilliance. Then he leaned in way too close and put his mouth to my ear.

“Boundaries are for pussies, beautiful.” Then he backed away and gave that full-on grin before sliding from the booth and heading for the door.

*

Who knew that four—or was it five?—Never Minds could make me feel sooooo good?

Carlo had been a darling and insisted on dropping me off after all, and he even walked me all the way to my front door. Which was probably a good thing, since I was in heels and the ground kept swaying like we were at sea.

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