The standard issue black t-shirt bearing the bar’s logo was purposely too tight, the v-neck way too low, but Jane insisted she’d get much better tips if she conformed. Income far outweighed pride at this point in her life. Tucked safely under a floorboard at home was six months worth of tips. Escape funds. Drop everything and run for your life cash. Hide from the monster money.
Heart beating a painful rap against her chest, she entered the crowded bar. Immediately, her gaze was drawn to where Zander sat in the darkest corner of the room. How funny, she thought, a man of his stature trying to hide. She drew herself up as she ambled forward. She needed to suck it up and be brave for a few more hours. If he was going to hurt her, he would’ve done it already. After a few drinks, he’d leave and be out of her life for good.
“Holy Fuck,” she whispered to herself.
Settled in the corner with his back against the wall, his industrial-sized arms were folded over a hulk-like chest. Tan skin stretched tight and firm over every inch of him. Dark blond hair sat tousled atop his head, carefree and wicked sexy. And his eyes—his intense blue eyes glowed in the dark. His gaze travelled along her body from head to toe as she drew near. She’d never felt so exposed. Not even in the playroom.
“Okay my superhero, what can I buy you to drink?” The words were barely audible because her throat had closed tighter than a corked bottle. She studied her feet and the scuffed hardwoods as she attempted to clear the shag carpet from her larynx.
“Superhero?” His chuckle soothed her jagged nerves. When he smiled, his eyes shone brighter than the sun making its first break through black clouds after a passing storm. “A superhero wouldn’t have given that fucker a chance to get anywhere near you to begin with.” The smile morphed to a frown. “I’ll take a beer please, whatever you’ve got. The darker, the better.”
* * * *
Jane’s Bar wasn’t at capacity, though busy enough to keep Grayce from talking to him. He didn’t care. He’d found her. Well, he was ninety-nine percent sure she was the one. If not, he’d have to commit suicide because the attraction was not one of earthly origin, but that of the heavens. Now, to find the right time to break the news.
Zander was more than content to spend his evening in the corner. Screw that, he was downright ecstatic. For the first time in his life, the stars had aligned and all was right with his world. Shit, he’d make the very chair he sat on a permanent home if it meant he could get twenty-four hour, nonstop Grayce time.
The woman was jaw-dropping gorgeous with her petite, curvy stature, exotic hazel-green eyes and lips that begged to be devoured. Damn.
Unable to peel his eyes away, it didn’t take long to notice the changes in her demeanor anytime a man approached. Her body tensed, tone of voice faltered, facial expressions darkened, even her posture altered with the slightest touch. Where did this fear take root? Who did this to her?
It was his fault. If he’d found her sooner, tried harder, maybe she would’ve been spared whatever anguish haunted her spirit.
Grayce cleared glasses behind the bar, and occasionally shot a glance his way. Wielding a wet towel and a bottle opener, a voluptuous redhead worked alongside her and gawked like a lovesick teenager. A couple of young women made their way to his table, flirty, underdressed and confident that at least one, if not both, would be invited home with him. Not taking his eyes off his woman, he shot them down and turned them away. If he wasn’t mistaken, Grayce fought back a smirk at the shattered expressions on their faces. Made his heart swell. She cared. Just didn’t know it yet.
As the night rolled on, Zander’s agitation became unbearable. The urge to castrate every man who entered was irrepressible. A feat he could easily accomplish in the blink of an eye. Shit. They wouldn’t leave her alone. Every male who walked through the door made a pass at her, whether they came with a woman or not. Fuck, she was like a douche bag magnet.
He growled under his breath but didn’t act on his protective instinct. Watching her defend herself proved more entertaining as the evening progressed. Her foul mouth and steely glare were enough to turn any would-be-suitor into a cowering little boy. Her razor sharp tongue had wounded many souls.
If one more drunk asshole made a move on Grayce, Zander was in danger of claiming numero uno on the FBI’s Most Wanted List for murder, as well as a dozen other crimes he could imagine committing all in the name of defending his lady. If he had his way, he’d throw her over his shoulder and march straight out of there. Never let her come back.
The decision to leave pained him, but Zander decided it safer for everyone within a two block radius of the bar if he did. He scribbled a note on a napkin and snuck through the back door when she wasn’t paying attention. Yeah, it was better that way. If he’d waited to say goodbye, there wasn’t a doubt in his mind he’d be taking her with him whether she consented or not.