She thought about getting another drink, but she hadn’t eaten. Already she was much clearer in what she had to do. She felt very courageous. It only took a couple of times going in a small circle before she mastered the maze of machines and was able to push open the door that let her out onto the street. The lights were much dimmer, but still illuminated the sidewalk.
She looked left and right. She was right in the middle of the block. Across the street, neon blue signs flashed, and the sound of music was loud. Each of the bars seemed to be playing a different song, but she loved to dance and the one on the end at the right blared the best music. She headed in that direction and then changed her mind, a little shiver going through her. She knew Winston. He would hire men to find her. He would call the police and report her missing, saying she had a mental disorder and he was worried for her safety. This street was still too close.
She hurried down the block to the next line of bars. The streets seemed darker, and as she came around the corner, a few men standing on the sidewalk in front of a bar looked up, nudging one another. Alarms went off and she paused to get oriented. Just in front of her was another bar blaring dancing music and in front of it were motorcycles, instantly reminding her of Lana. Her heart jumped. Lana. She hurried toward that one without hesitation. If Lana was there, she would know what to do. She was that kind of woman.THREELeaning against the bar, Ice ordered another drink, wondering, now that Steele and Breezy had left for home, why he hadn’t gone with them. He should have. What was he doing there? Drinking? Playing pool? Pretending to have a good time? He could fight. Beat the shit out of someone. That made him feel a little better sometimes. Not often anymore.
He’d been in a thousand bars. Had a thousand drinks. Played pool. Hustled at pool. Gotten into hundreds of fights. Most not of his making, but certainly he had to take responsibility for dozens. Women? Hell. He took the glass and pressed it to his forehead. He couldn’t count the women. They all blurred together. To give them their due, they gave their best efforts, but in the end, it had always come down to his absolute control. He had to decide to get hard. Fuck.
He downed the entire contents in one sip and lifted the glass toward the bartender. Unbidden, she floated into his mind. The girl. Not just the girl. The girl. The one who had given him a natural, very real erection, and she hadn’t done one single seductive thing. Not one. She’d stood on a street corner looking like a fresh summer day, soft skin and eyes promising heaven. That mouth of hers. A perfect bow. Full. And her tits. Shit. They couldn’t possibly be real, could they?
He fiddled with his drink on the bar, barely acknowledging the bartender when he gave him a refill. He was too busy remembering every detail of his princess. She had hips and a very nice ass. There was no way to find her and her cute little ridiculous booties that showed off her legs. He could imagine her mouth around his cock, or those tits in his hands, but he was never going to have the real thing. She belonged with the suit, the one with every hair in place and his condescending asshole attitude.
She looked like the girl next door. The one that wanted to make her man her first priority. The one willing to have his children and back him up no matter what. That girl. The one that probably didn’t even exist anymore. How the hell would he ever get a woman like that? He had certain proclivities. Even if he got her, she wasn’t going to do the things he needed.
Fuck. He should have pulled out his gun and shot those bastards he was tailing and let the police shoot him down like the psycho he was. He had crossed some line and he wasn’t certain he could pull back from it. There was nothing for him, and in the end, he had to acknowledge that he was too dangerous to just keep around like some loose cannon.
He’d shaped himself into a weapon. He’d had no choice, not if he was going to get Alena out alive. Storm had done the same, but Ice had always tried to stand in front of his twin. Now, he was expected to act like a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Czar knew what he was. Maybe all of them knew, but suddenly Czar had changed the rules of their world. They were supposed to fit in. Be tame. Follow bullshit rules that made absolutely no sense. He couldn’t keep pretending. Sometimes he felt that if he had to keep up the pretense one second longer, he’d just implode.