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“Black sedan followed us to the store,” he finally said softly.
“I know.” She threaded her fingers together and took a hard, deep breath. “I’ll have to leave tonight, Ethan.” There were tears in her voice. “When I’m gone, they’ll be gone as well.”
“Like hell.” He gripped her neck, pulled her face around until he could stare into her startled eyes. “You’re not running, Sair. Not anymore. My town, my bar, my fucking woman. And by God, it stays that way.”
Before she could protest, before the first tear could fall, his lips covered hers. The kiss shot fire through his veins, tightened every cell of his body, and left him burning for more.
His woman. For the first time in his life, Cooper loved a woman. He’d be damned if anyone was going to take her from him.
chapter 7
she’d thought she would be safe. Uncle Martin had kept track of her father’s enemies. They had all died. The lieutenants who would have come after her had been arrested. Or they were gone, buried. Yet, someone had found her and was following her.
And they knew about Ethan.
Her hands were shaking as Ethan—everyone called him Cooper, but to her, he was Ethan—escorted her into the loud, crowded bar.
The Broken Bar was the hangout for every type of carouser, partier, or just plain wannabe-badass. And there were a few real badasses mixed in there, she was certain. The bouncers definitely. There had to be a dozen on duty tonight.
She picked them out instantly, most likely because there were no less than three around her and Ethan at any given time.
She pushed her fingers through her hair as she sat at the bar, tapping her fingers against the slick surface as she watched the large, cavernous room that seemed packed with twisting, drinking, gyrating, half-drunk bodies. A night of fun had never seemed so sinister.
Yes, it had. The last time she had let her fascination for a male draw her from hiding. And now, it was threatening the only man she had ever loved outside of her family.
“One of our finest.” Jake pushed a glass of whisky in front of her. The little shot glass was a joke. She picked it up and tossed it back, grimacing at the pure pleasure of the burn that cascaded through her body.
“Hit me again, Jake.” She set the little glass on the table as she gave the order absently, looking around, trying to make certain she couldn’t recognize any of the men she knew were her father’s enemies. Or could be.
He set the shot glass in front of her. She frowned and looked up at him. “How ’bout a double?”
Jake’s brows lifted but he poured the shot into a glass, added to it, and handed it to her. He was watching her as though he expected her to just dunk it like she had the one before.
The first shot was for courage. This one she would sip. Drinking too fast only made her sick. She tolerated her liquor really well. What she didn’t tolerate well were nerves. And she had plenty of those going on tonight.
She twisted around the bar stool and came face-to-face with Ethan’s chest. She looked up the wide expanse to meet his inquisitive look from the glass to her.
“Not to worry,” she sighed. “I rarely ever get drunk.”
“That wasn’t what I was worried about.” His hazel and amber eyes were lit with amusement. “I’ve noticed, though. The only time I’ve seen you drinking is here, in my bar.”
“How would you know?” She looked up at him from the corners of her eyes. “You are very rarely in the house with me, Ethan.”
“But I watch you by your pool. If you were going to drink, you’d be on the patio.”
Her lips twitched, and she flushed. Because he had seen her masturbating by the pool. And because, damn him, he was right.
She sipped the whisky, loving the little bit of a burn that hit the back of her throat and flowed to her stomach. It eased her nerves just enough for her to see the fun that could be had in a crowd. And at home, sometimes, a drink in the evening helped her relax for the night. Though that was rare. She didn’t like sleeping at night.
“I’m not used to crowds, that’s why I rarely go out,” she told him.
“I figured that out. Are you ready to dance with me now?”
Sheer excitement filled her veins. “Seriously?” She looked out at the dance floor. “You’ll dance with me?” He’d said he wanted to, but she hadn’t been certain he meant it.
“Sair, sweetheart, I’d probably dance for you.” He sighed, shaking his head. “Come on, you little heart stealer. Dance with me.”
He pulled her out on the dance floor and he taught her the country steps, which weren’t hard to follow. She laughed as he twirled her around, pulled her against him, and ground his hips against hers with the rousing country beat. Then he let her go, let her wiggle and move, mimicking the other women on the floor before he would grip her, twirl her around, her hair fanning behind her before wrapping around his shoulder, some of the curls clinging to his T-shirt.
