Page 8 of Cole

Ronnie slid him another glass as soon as his was empty, and another right behind it for me. I took a needed swallow from the glass, setting it hard against the bar top.

“Who’s the girl?” I asked my trusty bartender. “Is she 21? You checked?”

Ronnie nodded. “Checked her ID and everything.”

“Name?”

Ronnie’s mouth hitched at the corner, but she was wise enough not to say a word other than the name.

“Belle.”

Belle. It suited her. She had a touch of fairy-tale princess about her. Did that make me the Beast?

I turned back to my men. “I still don’t trust Hutch. There’s something about him that puts me on edge.”

As President of the Harbor Hounds, every deal, at the end of the day, stopped with me. It was my call. The weight of everyone who relied on my decision to pay their bills, feed their families, and keep them out of a cell or a hole in the ground only got heavier every fucking year.

“You don’t trust anyone, boss. His product has been solid so far,” Maddox muttered.

“True, but after what happened on the last run, we’re doing a double count on this one, and I want twice as many men as last time. I want eyes on the shipment as soon as it rolls off of the truck.” I’d maintained as many of my dad’s longstanding business relationships as I could. We had to move a lot of product. We had to meet our fucking interest payments, or the mysterious power behind my father’s debts would make sure that someone from our crew went missing or turned up dead. Like Beatie. He pulled the blood-soaked strings, and we were the puppets that danced. It was infuriating. It was impossible, and as of yet, unchangeable.

This deal was dicey, simply because we weren’t Hutch’s biggest customer. That dubious honor was reserved for the Iron Vultures, our biggest rivals. They’d been doing business for a long time with Hutch and his guys, but thanks to their shitty management, being short on payments, and violent outbursts, Hutch was considering his options. If we locked him down, it would go far toward setting up the second half of the year. If, however, it caused too much friction with the Vultures, the Hounds were out. I didn’t risk my men more than I needed to.

“Got it,” Gage and Maddox said in unison. They moved the conversation on to the next order of business, and I tried to focus. I really did.

Until I glanced over and met her eyes for the first time.

Travis had finally fucked off. She was alone.

The look on her face sucked me in, and the conversation with Maddox and Gage faded into the background. Her face was soft, not lined and hardened from this kind of life. It was round, with full, pinchable cheeks. She was young for this place. Too damn young, legal or not. And yet, she held her ground better than I had expected. She didn’t look away from my inspection, like most people did when met with my stare.

She held my eyes steadily. I looked at her, and she looked right back. She didn’t smile flirtatiously or bite her lip seductively. I was a pro at deflecting that kind of come-on. I knew how I was viewed by the wannabe biker chicks who came around The Clutch. Bagging the Pres would give someone ultimate bragging rights. Too bad for them I had no interest in being some broad’s trophy.

No, she didn’t smile. She didn’t run her eyes across me or lick her lips. She just stared. So, I stared right back. Who the fuck was this girl?

The next guy to shoot his shot pulled me from her eyes.

Finn swaggered over to the blond with all the confidence of youth. He leaned against the bar, and he was smiling at her like he had something to prove. He was at least ten years younger than any of the guys in here, but that didn’t stop him from trying his luck with the pretty new girl. He’d come far from the little kid hiding behind his mother’s legs that awful rainy night when I’d gone to his door, his father’s blood on my hands.

I watched out of the corner of my eye as he leaned in, flashing his painfully naive, crooked smile. It was obvious she wasn’t impressed, but she also didn’t shut him down as hard as she had Travis. She said something, her face stubborn, but Finn laughed low and leaned in even closer.

He was laying it on thick, too thick. I couldn’t hear what was being said over the noise of the bar, but I could tell that she was not giving him much to work with. She was calm and not even slightly flustered. She was young, but clearly already experienced in shutting guys down. Somehow that irritated me more, and I found myself sliding ever so slightly in their direction. Gage gave me a sideways look, one eyebrow raised.

“Are you going to go break that up?” he asked.

“No,” I answered, my hand clenched tightly around my whiskey glass.

“Do you have a name, pretty girl?” I heard Finn’s voice carry over a break in the music. The line made me cringe on his behalf, and before I could stop myself, I was on my way over. Someone needed to teach the kid some game, though that someone couldn’t be me, as I had fuck-all experience sweet-talking beautiful women. My life wasn’t mine for living. It was for enduring. Still, I couldn’t listen to Finn embarrass himself. I made my way toward them.

“Everyone has a name,” she responded tartly.

I shook my head and slapped Finn once on the back, in a casual way, my way of telling him enough. He turned to face me, and I nodded toward Gage and Maddox down the bar, then turned and walked away, not giving her a second glance. I could feel her eyes on my back like a brand. I wanted to turn back and meet that stare, but I didn’t. I didn’t get involved with women at The Clutch. I didn’t mix business and pleasure. I didn’t have time for pleasure, period.

Finn followed me back to Maddox and Gage.

“Yo, Cole,” Finn said, dropping onto the barstool next to Maddox.

I exhaled hard and turned to him, trying not to be annoyed.