Page 14 of Dirty Pool

Michel gritted his teeth, both annoyed and ready to get the hell out of there. A heavy weight had come to sit in his stomach, and he wasn’t sure why. Maybe because he’d felt out of place in this club from the moment he stepped inside it—the large Irish flag hanging over the DJ booth had been enough to say this club might not be a safe place for him to deal. The guy getting the shit beat out of him in the office was another clue.

But really, Gabbie just heard someone ask him for drugs … if she understood any kind of street slang when it came to dealing—and who didn’t understand it? That, more than anything, bothered him. If she wasn’t running from him before, she sure as hell would be now.

In the doorway, the two men muttered back and forth in a language Michel couldn’t understand. Gabbie stared at them, her brow drawing inward like she was trying to distinguish what they were saying but they talked fast.

Then, they left.

“What was that about?” Michel asked, jerking a thumb over his shoulder.

He went to work opening the first aid kit as her attention came back to him. Even though he wasn’t looking at her, he could still feel the way she looked at him. It was visceral, really. Like her stare was pinning him in place, and he couldn’t escape from it. Strange, though, because a part of him didn’t want to escape it, either.

“Territory,” she said quietly, “They were talking about territory.”

Bad sign number three.

Michel was putting shit together, and it spelled bad things for him. Right then, though, he was more focused on making sure Gabbie was good before he had to make a quick, safe exit from this club.

If he was in Irish territory—there was a major Irish family in Detroit—then he was not safe here. At all. It was common knowledge in the criminal underworld that Irish and Italians did not get along. They were famous for their feuds that lasted years, and were some of the bloodiest ever seen on the streets. He did not want to be a casualty if that was the case here, too.

“Let me get this cleaned up,” Michel said, not wanting to get lost in his thoughts again.

Gabbie stayed quiet as he worked on fixing her arm as best that he could. He used the alcohol wipes to clean the wound, and felt a stab of pain in his chest when she hissed from the sting. He made quick work of using a couple of Steri-Strips to close the wound, and then a large band aid overtop just to be safe.

Running this thumbs along the outer edge of the band aid, a warmth spreading fast and furious from her skin to his. He swore it traveled right up his arm, and straight down into his gut. He didn’t miss the way goosebumps bloomed on her skin from his touch, either.

Damn.

“Do you feel that, too?” she asked softly.

Michel met her gaze. “Feel what?”

“The warmth.”

Why lie?

“I do,” he murmured.

Gabbie’s tongue peeked out, and wet her lips. He’d be a horrible fucking liar if he said he didn’t watch her tongue glide across her lips and wonder what she might look like doing that while she was on her knees with his cock in her hands.

Yeah, he was so fucked.

“Oh, there you are! Aidan came to find me.”

At the feminine voice in the doorway behind him, Michel was quick to help Gabbie up from the floor. Once she was on her feet, and seemed steady enough, he could have let her go. Instead, he kept one hand at her lower back, and another on her arm as they turned to face the red-headed woman in the doorway.

Gabbie pushed her mess of red curls out of her face, and passed a nod to Michel. “I had a doctor to help me.”

Michel chuckled. “That’s not entirely true.”

She just smiled, and winked, knowing she was teasing him. Then, her attention went back to the woman. “Sorry I ruined our night.”

“It’s fine.” The woman still stared at Michel, but quickly went back to Gabbie. “I have a car ready if you’re—”

“I think I might have Michel here take me home, actually.”

His fingers tightened on her arm—the uninjured one.

“Oh,” the girl said, eyes widening.