Page 3 of Lucifer's Hounds

“So, Cass. Are you one of those guys that walks around dressed as a biker, but isn’treallya biker?” I inquire.

“Definereallya biker,” he says sarcastically.

“You know, a biker, like one of those biker gang guys they show on TV that wear vests like yours.”

I rub my hands together instinctively, a nervous habit I’ve had since I was a little girl. Everything seemed to line up so well in my head, yet when I attempt to explain something with actual words, it never seemed to come out right.

Cass’s sudden burst of laughter startles me. “You watch too much TV. First, they aren’t gangs. They’re clubs. Motorcycle Clubs, to be exact. Second, I feel like I’mreallya biker as the President of a said Motorcycle Club. I even have my own bike and everything. Third, you call it a vest, but it’s a cut.”

“I didn’t mean any offense. I’m curious, though. I’ve never met a biker before, at least not any that I remember, and I’m intrigued. Do I bow since you’re the President of a club?”

“No, it doesn’t work like that, I’m just a man.”

"Stripes to you, Miss Summers." Cass says, walking around the pool table. He stands next to a small table with his hands resting on the pool cue as he watches me. His eyes sear into me with every move I make.

“I bet there’s way more to you than you lead on,” I note.

“I’m not much of a gambler,” he says with a wicked smile.

I step up to shoot, taking one shot at a time carefully. I’m not the greatest, but I feel like I’m decent. I shoot out five of the seven balls and glance at Cass to gauge his reaction as the cue ball spirals into the corner pocket. His face gives away nothing.

"There it is," I say, waving my arm at the table.

"There what is?" He asks.

"The game. You got that, all day long," I say, pointing to his last shot and then the shot he should be perfectly lined up for on the eight ball.

“I don’t know about all that. I mean, I’m only a badass biker who runs in a gang and probably beats up little old ladies,” he jokes.

“Hey, I never said anything about beating up people, especially not little old ladies.”

“You insinuated. It’s fine. Just fine,” he says dragging out his words in a higher pitched voice. His sense of humor and light, playful banter reels me in deeper every time he speaks.

The smile he flashes in my direction stirs butterflies in my stomach.

Leaning over the table to shoot, he looks up at me with a look of desire, a dark and heated look of desire that leaves me feeling vulnerable. Naked. Bared to him in this bar.

Cass keeps eye contact with me as he shoots his ball, sinking it into the desired pocket. Glancing back at the table, he lines up his shot and stares back at me. His eyes never leave mine as he knocks the eight ball directly into the corner pocket. Theonly legible thought I can focus on is what are his intentions and fuck I hope they consist of getting me naked. He breaks our eye contact to glance at the table to ensure his shot went and smiles a playful smile.

“Good game, Miss Summers.”

“Good game, darlin’.”

“Since you stereo-typed me, it’s my turn. I’d say you’re a schoolteacher and your parents probably bought your first house and car for you after they put you through school.”

I feign shock and slam both of my hands to the center of my chest and gasp dramatically. “Why me? Whatever would give you that impression?”

“You carry yourself well. Sexy, yet professional. Your eyes light up when you talk, as if they’re saying they have no worries, nothing at all to bother them.”

“You’re one for four. My dad bought a mustang as a project car for him to work on, and he gave it to me. Sounds like we both suck at stereotyping.” I take a swig of my drink before lighting a cigarette.

Downing the last few sips of his beer, Cass looks over at me. "Well, it's been a pleasure, but unfortunately I have to be at Reliance Stadium tomorrow and give the same pitch every time someone walks by only for them to not be interested and walk away.”

I smile while so many thoughts of what I want from him swim through my mind, but just like those people would do to him tomorrow, he walks away from me.

I reclaim the seat I had at the bar earlier and order one more double Crown and Sprite. Cass walks up to the bar, hands something to the bartender, and then leaves.

I really thought he was interested. I guess not.

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