Page 64 of Dark Horse

“Let me return the favor… please.” Her eyes fall to the front of my pants. It’s not like I can lie and say I’m good.

“It’s okay.”

“You just said you wanted to fuck my mouth.” She gives me a skeptical look.

“I do. But I like the torture, Hellfire. It feels like I’m paying for my sins before I indulge in them.”

“You need to put us both out of our misery soon, or I’ll bedoing the kidnapping.” She grins, a small laugh tumbling out of her.

“You gonna tie me up, Hellfire?” I bend over and kiss her knee, meeting her eyes as I do it.

“If you make me.”

I kiss her other knee as her fingers slip through my hair, gently brushing it back where it’s fallen over my forehead.

“Come on. Let’s go find a room and get you cleaned up. Then I’ll take you down for some dinner.” I hold out my hand, and she slips hers into it as she hops down from the bar.

TWENTY-FIVE

DAKOTA

It’sa busy Friday night at the bar, and as happy as I am about it, the crush of college students pouring in to get Sinner’s Showers is starting to make the locals get antsy. I watch as some of my regulars scoot farther into the corner of the bar, scowling as another group of girls stumbles to one side of the dance floor.

I make a slicing motion across my throat at Hayley and Gemma from across the bar, nodding to the group of girls. We’ve got to start cutting people off sooner if they’re going to cause problems for my usual crowd. I want more business, but not at the expense of what’s always made this place a great little dive bar.

I look up, and another guy is hoisting his girlfriend in the air next to my red neon sign, the one that reads Bad Decisions/Good Nights on the wall, so they can take photos. I raisea brow at that still life before I’m taking another fifty dollars to prep a Sinner’s Shower.

“Waiver. Read it. Sign it.” I pass it across the table and check his eyes to make sure he’s sober enough to understand what he’s signing.

“Got it.” He nods.

He takes his time reading it and then signs it, snapping a photo with his phone when he thinks I’m not looking. I don’t like the looks of that. But maybe he’s just a record keeper. Someone who wants to make sure he has a copy of everything digitally somewhere. But in my experience, those types are usually litigious.

When I walk back over with the shot and the water, I line them up beside the paper he signed.

“ID?” I ask because two can play this game.

He frowns at me and hooks his thumb over his shoulder. “They ID’d me at the door.”

“I need to see if the signatures match,” I shout over the music and tap on the paper. I don’t usually check. I assume people are being forthcoming, and technically, people can sign a giant X instead of their name if they want to. But I just want extra information on this guy in case he turns out to be as slimy as I think he is.

He gives me an irritated look but reaches for his back pocket anyway. Instead of a wallet, he pulls out a police badge. I raise a brow at him.

“That’s not an ID,” I state the obvious.

“Your patrons can’t sign a waiver allowing you to hit them when they’re inebriated.”

“You’re not inebriated.”

“You assume, but you have no way of knowing for sure without testing.”

“Does anyone have that ability when they sign a document?Do you think all those doctor’s offices and government agencies do a sobriety check before people agree to sign on the line?” I argue.

“You serve alcohol. The burden is higher for you.”

“So what are you suggesting I do?” I don’t think this guy has answers. I think he just has a lot of bullshit complaints.

“That you stop serving these shots.”

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