Page 15 of One Love

“Hey, Boss!” There’s noise in the background, glasses clinking and guffaws sounding loud enough to be right in front of me.

“How’d it go tonight?” Flower, who prefers to work alone, had Wright duty tonight until about eleven. Then it was Binx’s turn.

“I’m at Sonic’s for a drink. Wanna join?” Out of all of us, Flower seems the least broken. Except I know different. Flower is just great at pretending.

I let her invitation swirl in my mind. Sonic’s is only about a five-minute ride from here. Before I can talk myself out of it, I tell her to wait there.

The cool air of early April is almost chilling this time of night but my leather get-up shields me enough to enjoy the ride to the bar, with little to no traffic on the way. By the time I arrive, the parking lot is beginning to clear out. It’s a popular bar with people my age; trendy beers and decked out with televisions for constant sports updates. The parking lot is usually packed on any night of the week.

Inside, it’s impossible to miss Flower as she slams back a shot—probably tequila—then howls at the ceiling while three men stare at her with hungry eyes and mouths practically salivating.

Poor bastards. They have no idea what they’re coveting. She looks like a sheep but her canines are sharper than a wolf’s.

When I take the empty stool next to her, no doubt freed up by her just for me, her face lights up like a five-year-old staring at the Christmas tree. I don’t often go out. This is an exception, and I can tell it means something deep for her.

“There she is!” Flower calls out as I gesture to the bartender.

“What can I get ya?” The pretty blonde leans in, bright eyes darting all around as she surveys the patrons at the bar.

“Lemon tonic, ice, no alcohol.” I add that last bit in to avoid any surprises. A few months ago, I bought a few ready-made cans, not paying attention to the gin that was already mixed in. The steep price should’ve clued me in but then it seems like prices at the liquor store are all skyrocketing.

“Sure thing.” She walks away and I turn my attention back to Flower, throwing a glare at the salivating guys who quickly recoil then look away. At least they aren’t too stupid.

“So what happened?” I ask, getting down to business. Sure, I’m here to have fun, but I want information first.

“Nothing. He stayed home all evening. Boring as fuck.” Her elbow on the bar, she rests her chin on her palm and pouts. Like this, she seems so young, her ginger hair a thick, unmanageable mess on the top of her head that somehow still looks on point, and her big blue eyes reminding me of the anime that Hallie likes to watch, she doesn’t look a day older than eighteen.

Yet she’s my age, almost ten years older than she seems.

“So, you came here instead of going home to your girlfriend?” The bartender brings me my drink and I pay her before she walks away.

“We had a spat. But it’s fine. I’ll go home, grovel, then eat her pussy until she comes all over my face. She’ll forgive me.”

Jesus, okay, that’s more information than I was expecting.

I’m about to take another sip of my tonic water when familiar pale green eyes lock onto mine over Flower’s shoulder, making my entire body freeze and my jaw clamp down.

What the fuck?

My eyes narrow and my grip tightens on my glass, so much so I’m afraid I’ll shatter the thing. What the fuck is he doing here? Is he following me? Is Zavier having me followed?

This is not a chance meeting and there is absolutely zero surprise anywhere on his face. In fact, the tiny smirk at the corner of his mouth is all the proof I need that this little encounter is planned. By him, not by me.

Flower is giving me the lowdown on Wright, but I can’t register a damn thing she’s saying because all of my focus is on the tatted guy walking to the bathroom on the opposite side of the bar.

“I’ll be right back.” I cut off whatever Flower was going on about and without giving her the chance to ask anything or even protest, I jump off the stool and stalk over to the door marked ‘restroom’ before he has a chance to close it in my face.

My knife is in my palm and my hand is at his throat in the second it takes me to push him against the now-closed door.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” My growl is low and deadly, my glare a living, breathing monster filled with hate.

Dmitry doesn’t even flinch or recoil or show a single hint of fear in those golden-flecked eyes. In fact, it’s only when his smile, firm lips imprisoning a row of straight white teeth, distracts me from his eyes that I realize he’s got a knife at my throat too.

When the fuck did that happen?

“Having a drink.” His tongue slides out of his mouth, slow and teasing, before the top row of his teeth bites down on his plump, bottom lip. As his eyes trail a fury blaze of heat down from my eyes until finally landing on my throat, I become all too aware of his raging fucking hard on. Well, this is interesting.

I scoff, my eye twitching at his nonchalance. “Am I supposed to believe this is a chance meeting?” My glare drops to his lips again and I can’t control the watering of my mouth at the sight.

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