Caged (Mastered, #4)(3)
Her heart plummeted. Now I know why you stood me up, you bastard. Face burning, she retreated and kept a leisurely pace as she cut through the tables, her gut urging her to run outside, snag a cab, and go home.
Once inside the restroom, she braced her hands on the sink and dropped her head down, forcing deep, even breaths into her lungs. It didn’t help. Mortification had morphed into anger. Mad as hell, she let fly, “You motherf*cking, cocksucking sonuvawhore, ass-licking f*ckwad!”
The bathroom door opened.
“Whoa. What’s wrong?” Presley asked. “You ran in here like you saw your minister in the VIP section.”
“No. But guess who I did see?” She paused and met Presley’s eyes in the mirror. “Deacon.”
“As in our former kickboxing teacher, Deacon?”
“Apparently he’s Bloody Mary’s regular customer.”
When Presley didn’t say anything but became very interested in checking her makeup, Molly’s eyes narrowed.
“You’ve seen Deacon in here before.”
“Just once, okay? It was around the time Knox and Shiori got married, so I figured it might be a bachelor-party thing.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I didn’t know it’d matter to you.” Presley’s gaze met hers in the mirror. “Why does it matter to you?”
“It doesn’t.”
“Oh yeah? Then why are you so upset?”
“I’m not upset!” Okay. She sounded upset. Molly slumped against the wall. “Seeing him here clears up the mystery about why he pulled a no-show for our date. I’m not his type.”
Presley got right in her face. “Fuck that. And f*ck him. You don’t want a man who drools over tits and ass, unless it’s your tits and ass. I’ll bet a lap dance is the only action he gets since he’s so big, mean, and scary-looking.”
Molly had watched ring bunnies hanging all over Deacon because being big, mean, and scary-looking was what made him so compelling. And she was smart enough to admit that was part of the reason he appealed to her too.
Appealed. Past tense. Let it go. “I need a drink.”
“Come on. I’ll buy.”
Molly followed Presley out of the bathroom.
Presley stopped in the middle of the hallway so abruptly that Molly ran into her.
When she glanced up to see what’d caught Presley’s attention, she froze.
Deacon leaned against the wall, his muscled arms crossed over his chest, one knee bent with his cowboy boot pressed behind him. The pose seemed casual, but she wasn’t fooled.
“Beat it,” he said to Presley. “I need to talk to Molly.”
Her stomach swooped.
“You have shitty manners,” Presley said.
Deacon ignored Presley and continued to level his brooding stare at her.
Talk about unnerving.
Talk about hot.
Shut up, hormones.
Then Presley moved and blocked Molly from his view. “Tell me what to do.”
“Go. I’ll give him five minutes.”
“Don’t take his crap.”
“I won’t.”
Presley’s gaze darted between Molly and Deacon as she backed away. “I’ll be right over there if you need anything.”
“She won’t.”
“I wasn’t talking to you, *.”
“I know. Keep walking.”
When they were alone, Molly kept the entire width of the hallway between them. “You were rude to her.”
“So?”
“So you save your decent behavior for the strippers working the VIP section?”
His eyes flashed. “Sometimes. What are you doin’ here?”
“Drinking with my friends and soaking in the naked entertainment.”
“Doesn’t seem like your scene.”
“I hardly think you can chastise me for being here when it appears you’re a frequent patron of this strip club, Mr. VIP.”
In the blink of an eye, Deacon had caged her against the wall, his mouth next to her ear.
She shivered when his hot breath tickled her neck.
“Goddamn flowers,” he muttered. “You always smell sweet. Even after sweating in class for an hour, you didn’t reek like everyone else.”
“There’s a compliment.” Molly put her hands on his chest and pushed him. “Now move it.”
A soft growl vibrated against her cheek. “You drive me crazy, woman.”
“Hey!” a loud male voice shouted behind them. “Let her go.” The bouncer stopped a foot from Molly and set his hand on her shoulder. “Hey, pretty eyes. Is this f*cker harassing you?”
“No, I’m not harassing her, but I’ll break your hand if you don’t take it off of her.”
“Deacon!” she gasped. “What is wrong with you?”
“Got a case of mine, I’m thinking,” Black Bart said. “You know this joker, sweet thang?”
What perfect payback to proclaim she’d never seen him before. But that’d set him off. And Deacon “Con Man” McConnell in a rage was dangerous for everyone. “Yes, I know him. He is—was—my kickboxing instructor.”