Page 7 of That Girl is Trouble

Relief hits me when my apartment door clicks shut. I don’t know what the fuck that was, but there’s no goddamn way I’m letting that girl anywhere near my bed again.

3

Axe has an iron grip on my arm as he yanks me across the club.

“Axe!” I hiss.

His hold on me only tightens, and as much as I’d like to fight him off, I’m currently feeling very… exposed.

Minutes ago, I was twirling around a pole with my boobs out for a couple dozen strangers. But Axe finding me here when I’m in this state is far more uncomfortable. Like I’ve been unmasked. Stripped bare and spread out.

I clutch the small swatches of lace and cotton tight to my naked breasts as he drags me into the dressing room and thrusts me forward. My arm twinges in pain, but I don’t make a move to console my throbbing skin. I know better than to show weakness in front of this man.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Kat?” Axe snarls.

I take a step back, noting the anger twisting across his face, the glint in his dark eyes. Axe is the kind of man who takes up a lot of space in a room. It’s not just his six-foot-something stature, but the way he holds himself. He’s the kind of man you can feel even when he’s not touching you.

It’s easy to forget sometimes, how imposing the Sinner men can be. And dangerous. A storm of violence and wildness and freedom, of reckless abandon.

And Axe Donovan is the epitome of that.

Like Jesse, he’s everything I can’t help but step into, but even I know to tread lightly when Axe is angry. The man is a stone wall of calm, cool, and collected until he’s not. And right now, he’s most certainly not. Still, though, I could never help but push him—anyone, really—to get a reaction, to prove that I can get under his skin as much as he gets under mine.

“I’m working. Thought that was obvious,” I say, my voice steady. I ignore the flex of muscles that make the tattoo on his neck ripple, the clench of his fist, the tic in the sharp jaw he keeps lightly dusted with a promise of a beard he never lets grow.

“Last I checked,” he says, teeth gritted, “you were in school three hours north of here. So I’ll ask again, what the fuck are you doing flashing your tits to half the fucking town when you should be locked in a dorm room with your face in a book?”

Before I can toss back a snarky response, the dressing room door swings open, and Seb pushes inside, his fists tight and ready to slam into Axe’s face. The Garden’s bouncer is a big guy. He’s more meat than muscle, with a bald head and a mean enough look about him that keeps most of the club’s patrons in line. They want to come in, they follow the rules—no touching, no harassing the girls, no watching without a drink in hand, and no trips to Heaven without opening their wallets. When they don’t comply, he takes no issue roughing them up and kicking them the fuck out.

But Axel Donovan doesn’t intimidate, and he’s sure as hell not the type to be smacked around and tossed out of anywhere.

Seb must not see the heavy motorcycle boots or the tattoos, the leather jacket adorned with the snake-wrapped skull on Axe’s back. The symbol all the Sinners wear. A clear indication of who he is, that he’s not to be fucked with.

I take a step forward, ready to move in front of him. “Seb, wait—”

Axe’s fist is in his gut before I can warn him.

Seb doubles over, reaching out to steady himself, but Axe slams his elbow down into his back, and Seb topples to his knees, his body hitting the floor with a thump.

“Shit, Axe,” I snap. “Was that really fucking necessary?”

Chaos ensues when two more leather-clad bodies pile into the dressing room. Two men who, like Axe, I haven’t seen in well over a year, but who were part of my family once. Before I left, before Axe made me leave.

Tex, aptly named for his abilities with a deck of cards—Texas Hold’em—grins at me as he plops into the nearest chair and kicks his feet up on one of the many vanities lining the room, crushing a small eyeshadow pallet under his heavy boot. He roughs his hand through his slicked-back shoulder-length dark-blond hair, his blue eyes roving over me as he takes in my skirt and legs. “Hey, Kitty. Look at you. All grown up.”

“Eyes on the ceiling,” Axe growls.

Seb pushes to his feet but is immediately taken to his knees again, this time with a gun pointed at his temple.

Bane smiles at me from the door, snaking his hand around the back of Seb’s neck. If it weren’t for the leather cut and the patch he wears, Bane would seem… almost safe. At first glance, he looks harmless. Shockingly handsome, dark hair, no visible tattoos. That’s what’s scary about him. It isn’t until he’s up close, until he lets that dark little smile slip onto his face and he pulls out that big knife of his, that the bad shines through.

“Very grown up,” Bane says with another smile. Axe doesn’t have to tell him to avert his eyes, because his gaze is locked with Seb’s, a glint of violence flashing over his face. “Shh,” he whispers. “Open your mouth. I said open, fucker.”

Seb’s eyes widen on me as Bane slides the end of his gun into Seb’s mouth, pushing it in deep enough to make him gag.

“Women tell me relaxing your throat helps. Why don’t you try that, and we’ll see how far I can push in?” Seb gags again, pulling another laugh from Bane. “Ah, come on. It’s not even that big.”

Tex snorts, his eyes fixed on the lights above us. “We know it’s not that big, asshole.”

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