Page 2 of Taming Her

Inside the air was hot, the music loud.

The crowd stepped out of their way as the two officers went deeper into the large room.

“I guess it’s that group over there.” Rex nodded to a table in the corner.

“Ah, yes.” The group of girls was raucous. One stood on the sofa, high heels digging into the leather as she waved a cocktail around. The table was littered with bottles and glasses.

It was then Griff saw her.

Ava Sontag.

His breath caught.

Ava Sontag was a wild and beautiful creature and although he hadn’t seen her for eight years he remembered her well. Very well.

She effortlessly drew people into her giddy, breathless world. They were like moths besotted by a candle.

It was clear nothing had changed since they’d been at college together.

Still she commanded adoration, was by far the sexiest woman in the room, and her magnetism was irresistible—men and women craved her attention… in this case even her drunken attention.

Griff looked at his partner and raised his eyebrows. “What’d you think?”

“Yeah, high as kites. No wonder the landlord called it in.” Rex spoke into his phone. “We’re at The Blood Hound, no backup required.”

Griff agreed with Rex’s summation. They could deal with a group of excitable women. Of course being in police uniform meant he had to follow police procedure, he couldn’t take Ava in hand for her obviously bad behavior quite how he’d like to, but there it was… the law. Hewasthe law.

“I’m glad you’re here.” A tall, slim man with a goatee approached. He twisted his hands together. “Desmond Tate, general manager here at The Blood Hound.”

Griff nodded in the direction of the eight cackling females. “That’s them, is it?”

“Yes, a hen night, they’re always the worst.” Desmond tutted.

Griff’s attention left Ava to scan the other women in the group. They wore short sparkly dresses, were dolled up to the nines, and had plastic tiaras perched on their heads as they knocked back flutes full of bubbles. One, a blonde, appeared to be the bride-to-be. Her tiara was covered in droopy condoms and a pink sash statingLast Night Of Freedomwas draped over her right shoulder.

Thank goodness it isn’t Ava getting hitched.

Griff had no idea why he felt a sense of relief, but he most definitely did.

“I wouldn’t normally call you guys,” the manager said, “but I’ve asked them to keep the noise down twice, and now other customers are complaining. They need to take a hike.”

“You’re a Bristol city center bar. Things get noisy on the weekend.” Griff’s gaze landed on Ava again.

She had her head thrown back, laughing hard. A friend to her right collapsed against her bare arm, skin to skin, as if she couldn’t get close enough.

An annoying stirring tugged at Griff’s groin. There was no point denying his soul-twisting crush on Ava Sontag. All through college he’d admired her until finally in the last term he’d plucked up the courage to ask her out.

To his amazement she’d said yes. A wild, heart-pounding romance had followed. He’d drunk her in, soaked her up, wanted to be with her, inside her, at every moment of every day. He’d been permanently drunk on love. She was an obsession that ate into every fiber of his being. When he wasn’t with her he was planning how to be with her. When he slept he dreamed of her, even if she was there in his bed, in his arms.

Life had been good, more than good; he’d existed in his own erotic version of paradise. Until, that was, she’d run away.

She’d moved onto the next town. He’d been dumped by a text.

“We’ll have a word, see if they respond, if not, we’ll kick them out for you,” Griff said.

“Thanks.” The manager turned away.

Rex huffed. “You’d think we had nothing else to do on a Saturday night. A group of squealing women, surely the bar staff could deal with this and if they can’t they need to employ bouncers.”

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