Page 3 of Dark Horse

“Good choice. Have a seat while I get it all ready.” I point to the bar stool tucked between two gold bars.

The Sinner’s Shower is a new drink I came back with when I saw the girls at the MC bar I visited doing them. They were charging thirty bucks a piece to have guys take shots and then slap them before they splashed water in their faces. I’d upped the ante and the price—for fifty, I’d spit the whiskey in their mouths, slap them, and drench them in ice water. Catharsis for me for dealing with all the assholes every night, and a fun story for them to take back to the frat house.

I pull a waiver and a pen out from under the counter and slide them in front of him.

“Sign this.” I had the waiver drawn up to cover my ass in the event that some asshole thought he liked to be slapped but then decided he didn’t like that particular kink as much as he anticipated. He starts to bring it closer to his eyes, reading carefully before his friend slaps him on the back.

“You want her to spit in your mouth or not? Just sign it.” His friend taps the pen, and he quickly flourishes his name across the paper. I grab the Jack, pouring a shot before I get a glass of ice water and pour his draft.

“Another taker?” Hayley smiles as she dodges behind me. She pulls the expensive whisky from the shelf above the Jack. There’s only one person who ever drinks it, but if he wants to come in and be charged triple the going rate for what he could get for free at the bar in his casino, I’m not about to be the one to stop him. He takes it right back out the door with him at the end of the month with rent anyway.

“Another taker.” I nod.

“You’re an evil genius, you know?” She elbows me gently.

“I wouldn’t go quite that far. But if it keeps the lights on.” I shrug as I line up all the drinks on the right side of the counter before I climb up on the bar after them.

Hayley disappears with the devil’s drink, and I turn my attention back to the wide-eyed boy in front of me. Hedoesn’t know where to put his eyes as I slide to the edge of the bar.

“Scoot in.” I draw my fingers back toward me, and he drags the bar stool in between my knees. His eyes crawl up my legs, studying my tattoos for a moment, before they find where my cut-off jeans end at the apex of my thighs.

“Up here,” I remind him, and his attention snaps to my face. I raise a brow at him, only giving him shit because he seems so sweet. His cheeks blush bright fucking red, and I have to suppress a smile.

“All right. Whiskey first. Then a slap. Then a shower. Got it?” I glance down to make sure he’s signed the waiver, and I tuck it behind the bar before we start. I don’t need water bleeding the ink.

“Got it.” His eyes drift down and then snap back up again.

“Good.” I knock the whiskey back into my mouth.

Then I lean forward, grabbing his cheeks and forcing his mouth open wider as I press on the place where his jaw hinges. I spit the whiskey into his mouth, and he gags on it a little, sputtering and wheezing as I slam the shot glass down. I let go of his cheeks and haul back like I’ll hit him hard but slow the movement until it’s more like a love tap. This kid can barely hold his liquor, and I don’t need him choking on it.

His friends are hollering and cheering by the time I pick up the glass of ice water and toss it into his face. I don’t hate that it catches all of them in the process. They take a step back, wiping their faces right along with him.

“Holy shit!” Birthday Boy cries out as he wipes at his eyes.

“Fuck me,” another yells.

“That was hot as fuck!” His friend looks up at me in awe.

“Me next!” another guy their age yells from one of the tables, waving money in the air and jumping up to head my way.

“Thanks.” Birthday Boy shoves a twenty-dollar tip into the empty shot glass before he backs away slowly, wide-eyed as he still processes what just happened. I can see the wheels churning in his head, deciding just how much he liked that and what it means for his future that he likes women slapping him around.

“Happy Birthday, handsome.” I grin at him before I gather the glasses.

“Me next!” His friend shoves past him and holds out another fifty.

“Give me a minute to reset.” I roll my eyes and shake my head as I climb back over the bar. When my feet hit the rubber mat, I hear Hayley’s laugh tinkle its way across the room, and I look up to see what’s so funny. She’s still standing with the devil, her hand on his as she throws her head back in laughter, but he’s not meeting her with his own. In fact, he looks pissed, and I feel my phone vibrate again as I see him set his down onto the bar with his free hand before he takes the last swallow of his drink. I risk a peek.

THE DEVIL:

Scotch neat. Now.

And that last word is exactly why I give out five more Sinner’s Showers before I even think about making my way to his end of the bar.

TWO

GRANT

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