Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

Manta

I smiled into my glass as I took a drink. Men. They were just too easy. I watched Butcher from the corner of my eye as I sipped on my drink. He was heading this way.

A bottle of Jack Daniels hit the counter hard enough to rattle the glass I'd placed back on the bar top. I turned my head, arching a brow at him.

"What's your name?" he grunted.

A slow smile formed. I wanted to tease him for his lack of charm, but damn, I could see where the caveman routine would work on women. It almost worked for me. Of course, I was going to let him think it worked for me, so he'd take me somewhere…quieter. Couldn't kill him in the middle of this bar. Especially not with his brothers around.

"Isla," I replied, then blinked in confusion. I'd just inadvertently given him my real name. Why the hell had I done that? That was rule number two. Never give them any real information about myself .

He sat down on the bar stool to my right, facing me. "Butcher." He held out his hand.

I stared down at it, still shook that I'd slipped up so badly. What was it about this guy that made me feel so…off kilter? I reached out and shook his hand, gritting my teeth when a zip of pleasure sparked my skin as we touched.

Something's not right. What the hell is wrong with me?

His hand was huge. Rough. Warm. And I got a flash of both of them roaming over my body. I enjoyed sex as much as any other woman, but usually on my own terms. When I wanted to have an orgasm, I usually found a willing guy, did the deed, and got the hell out of there. No muss, no fuss.

I always started out horny because it'd been too long since the last time. A guy never inspired my horniness. Until now. Maybe I did need to see that doctor after all.

"Nice to meet you," I told him. Tugging my hand back, I shot him a glare when he didn't let go. "I should get going." It was better to abort tonight's plan than continue moving forward when I was feeling so…volatile.

The plan had been to get him drunk, take him somewhere private, and kill him. But everything inside me was a tangled, jumbled mess just from a damn handshake. I needed to have a serious conversation with myself before I tried this again.

"Why?" he rumbled. He was still holding my hand captive. With his free one he grabbed the bottle of Jack and filled my glass to the rim with more alcohol.

I stared at it, then frowned at him. "I have somewhere to be."

He arched a brow. "Where?"

Okay. This shouldn't be doing a damn thing for me, but his deep voice and that penetrating hazel stare of his was working. My panties were damp and all he'd done was grunt one word syllables, for the most part.

What was it about a muscular guy who acted like an animal that was such a turn on? No. I didn't need to go down that road .

I tugged at my hand again. He just squeezed it tighter, making me gasp at the twinge of pain. He was strong.

"I need to go…just…somewhere"

"Tacos." It was a statement, not a question.

"What?"

"You came here looking for me."

I stilled, staring at him. No way he figured out why I was here.

What the hell?

"I saw you at the taco truck earlier today," he explained when I didn't respond. He must have read the shock on my features.

"Oh."

"Wouldn't have been hard for you to track me down." He pointed to the Viking head on the back of his cut. "We advertise." He tilted his head, his eyes heating. "Did you come looking for me, Isla?"

I swallowed hard. My name sounded…dirty…somehow when he said it. He wasn't as smooth or charming as his friend Toxic. I'd been hanging around enough to hear that guy in action, but this bad boy routine was perfect for Butcher.

"No," I replied, picking my drink up and taking a swallow. I had to fight not to cough. It wasn't really a Jack and Coke anymore since he added so much more whiskey to it. "I came to get a drink before my date." I glanced over in time to see anger flash in his eyes.

"What do you need a date for," he asked, "when you have me?"

I chuckled and started to relax, even though he was still holding my hand. His skin had gone from warm to scorching. "I have other plans, Butcher." Alright, he was fun to flirt with.

And he was playing right into my hands. I wasn't sure I was going to get another opportunity like this. Jumbled mess or not, this was my chance. Mentally berating myself, I decided tonight was the night after all. I just needed to keep my inner hussy contained long enough to get him back to my hotel room.

I gave him a sultry smile. He hadn't responded to my earlier statement. "I guess I could have one drink with you," I told him.

A smirk lifted the corner of his mouth.

"I'll need my hand back though. "

He looked down at it and frowned before finally releasing me. It was as though he hadn't realized he was still holding it even though he'd refused to let it go.

I picked up my glass and held it up. He used that huge meaty paw to grab the bottle and clanked it against my drink. A bit too hard. Liquid splashed onto my hand.

Flirting was easy for me. And it was always hollow. Because I never meant it. It was never anything other than pretending to be someone else. All the sultry looks and lash fluttering was annoying, but it helped me get my way. I'd gotten good at it. But this…him… it was a little too real. Setting my drink down, I lifted my hand, but froze when he grabbed it again.

All I could do was watch, heart hammering against my ribs, as he lifted my hand to his face. He sucked two of my fingers into his mouth and it took every ounce of willpower to bite back my moan. His tongue swirled around, then burrowed between them, and I sucked in a breath and held it. Wow. He was good at that.

And he was staring straight at me. It was like I was caught in his gaze. My pussy fluttered as he continued to suck on my fingers, but I wasn't thrilled about this hold he seemed to have on me. I was a damn professional. I shouldn't be thinking about shoving him back on the bar top and riding him until we both came.

Both came? When have I ever cared about a man's pleasure? Why was the image of him pumping me full of cum turning me on as much as my own orgasm?

Someone cleared their throat and I finally managed to wrench my eyes away from his and he let my hand go. I glanced over at the bartender. She was grinning at us. I knew from my research that she was one of the club's old ladies. She was with Hellfire, if my intel was correct, and it always was.

"Can I get you anything else?" she asked, smiling at me, then shooting a smug look at Butcher. "A condom, maybe?"

I choked on the swallow of alcohol I'd just taken to try to soothe my nerves.

"Sorry," she said, laughing. "Just giving him a hard time. "

I watched them curiously as Butcher answered her. He seemed…softer…somehow when he was speaking to her. Not soft, because everything about him was hard. His muscles, his demeanor, but something changed when he spoke to her.

As she left, I studied him while I spoke. "She your girlfriend?" I knew the answer, but I wanted to see what he'd say.

His gaze hardened as he looked over at me. "If I had an old lady, I wouldn't be over here fucking with you."

My brows shot up at that. He sounded almost…insulted. "Is that what you're doing?" I purred. "Fucking with me?"

His eyes narrowed. "Not yet. You'll know when we're fucking."

I laughed and shook my head. "You're blunt, aren't you?"

He studied me. "Do you want me to lie to you?"

"No."

"Then you should know, I plan to have your thighs wrapped around my head by the end of the night."

"You- Well, okay," I muttered, downing more of my drink. It was the last thing I needed, just stoking the flames he was creating within me, but my damn mouth had gone dry at his words. "And what if I told you that wasn't going to happen?"

He shot me a grin. "Want to bet on it?"

"What're the stakes," I asked, suspicious, but too intrigued to put a stop to it.

"I win, we fuck."

I chuckled in disbelief. This guy was something else. "And if I win?" Somewhere along the line I'd turned to face him. Our knees were brushing and even that little bit of contact made my heart race. This was so dumb. I wasn't in grade school dealing with my first crush. But man, did talking to him appeal to me.

"What do you want?" he asked.

I licked my lips, fully aware that his eyes tracked the movement of my tongue. "Maybe I'd want you to take me out on a proper date."

His eyes met mine again. For just a moment there was a flash of confusion and, could it be, fear? He quickly rallied though. "Done."

I didn't want a date. I just needed him to think I was interested in more than sex. So he wouldn't be suspicious of how easy this was. Liar. I ignored that little voice in my head. Something told me he probably wouldn't question it if I told him to take me somewhere so we could fuck now. I'd be willing to bet it happened often enough to him that he wouldn't question it, but that was just a bit too easy for me . The perverse side of me wanted to play a little before I killed him. And there was a part of me that actually kind of liked him now that I'd spoken to him. He was funny. I didn't meet nearly enough people in my line of work. Who stayed alive anyway.

"What's the game?" I asked. I eyed the pool table. There were also dart boards in the back.

"We go shot for shot."

I focused back on him then down at the bottle. The fact that he was drinking straight from it rather than a glass told me he'd win that game easily enough. But then again. That was the point. "Okay," I agreed.

"Come on," he said, standing.

I rose too and watched as he motioned for the bartender to hand him another bottle of jack. Following him back to an empty table, I eyed the two bottles. "We're going to get alcohol poisoning if we drink all of that," I told him.

He chuckled. "It'll be fine."

Maybe for him. I actually didn't drink much. I was just using this as an excuse to allow him to take me out of this bar.

"You live here?" he asked, pouring us both a shot. Somewhere along the line he'd grabbed two glasses.

"Yeah," I lied, then tossed the shot back. My face screwed up into a grimace. I typically preferred that my alcohol tasted like something more than acid and bad decisions.

"Today's the first time I've seen you."

I gave him an incredulous look. "You expect to know everyone in this city?"

He shrugged. "Tucson's a small city. Hard to go anywhere without running into people you know."

"Well, you don't know me," I pointed out .

"Not yet," he agreed. He poured two more shots.

I was going to need to figure out a way to get rid of this alcohol—other than drinking it—or I was going to be passed out long before I had the chance to kill him.

"You must weigh twice as much as me. You should be taking two shots to my one." It was a gamble.

He eyed me suspiciously then said, "Fair's fair I suppose." And took a second shot. That should help a little.

An hour later, I was swaying in my seat, realizing I'd been right. Holy shit. That man could hold his liquor. Even with him taking double shots, I was still in trouble.

There were three of him grinning as he stood over me. "You ready to go make good on our bet, Isla?" he asked.

I nodded and tried to stand. The world rocked and I started to sink down into my seat again. Then everything flip flopped and I groaned as my stomach churned. I clamped my eyes shut.

They opened of their own free will once more when Butcher started walking. I was over his shoulder and everyone was cheering as he carried me out of the bar. I shut them again before my stomach decided to revolt on me.

I wasn't sure where he was taking me, but once he finally stopped walking and set me on my feet, I looked around. We had to be inside his clubhouse. I figured out after about a week of following him that this was where they were all living.

"We should go to my hotel."

He paused, then shut the door. "If you live here, why are you staying in a hotel?" he asked.

Damn. The alcohol had my head spinning. If I wasn't careful I was going to end up admitting to him that I was an assassin sent here to kill him.

"House is getting bug bombed," I lied. Thank God that lying was as innate to me as breathing. If you weren't good at stretching the truth you'd make a piss poor assassin.

"Hmmm," he grunted, stalking toward me.

The room wasn't very big and the way he was approaching made me nervous. I was never nervous. I didn't like the way it was making me feel. All caged in and trapped. I backed up until I hit a wall. At least it was solid and helped me stay on my feet.

He stepped in, putting his hands on the wall on either side of me. "You change your mind?" he asked, eyes dropping down to my lips.

"Huh?" I asked. Lying in this state might come easy, but thinking was difficult.

"About fucking. If you change your mind it's fine."

My brows shot up and I grinned at him. "I didn't take you for a gentleman."

"I'm not," he confirmed, "but I like my women willing."

Searching his gaze, I tried to decide what to do. I knew what my body wanted. I wanted to give in to the urges he stirred within me. But I should pull the small knife I had tucked into the back of my jeans and stab him before this went too far. I had a feeling that getting involved with Butcher on any level spelled trouble for me.

"I haven't changed my mind." Who said that? Was that me? Damn…it was.

I opened my mouth to tell him I hadn't meant that, but his lips crashed into mine. His tongue was already in my mouth and… Oh my God. I moaned and pushed closer to him. I was lying to myself about changing my mind. Every part of me was tuned into him now.

He wrapped his arms around me, crushing me against his body. I'd just kiss him for a few minutes, then I'd kill him. My body was on fire. Maybe I'd waited too long to have sex. That was what was wrong here. But I wasn't going to break my self-imposed rule and sleep with him. That was rule number uno. The number one important thing I'd learned over the years. Don't have sex with the clients you have to murder. It just ended up being messy any way you looked at it.

I wanted to cry in misery because I was about to put a stop to this kiss and all the wonderful sensations coursing through my body. Reaching behind me, I grabbed my knife.

He shifted his mouth and was sucking on my neck now. I let my head tip back and enjoyed the feeling before I focused again. Gripping my knife tight, I brought it around behind him. We were smashed together, so I couldn't get at his heart. I'd have to stab him in the kidney then finish him off once he released me.

"What are you doing," he muttered against my skin.

"Nothing," I gasped as he raked his teeth over the spot he'd been sucking on. This was an awkward position to try to stab someone in. Especially someone who was so damn thick around as he was. He was so tall and muscular it was hard for me to see what I was doing. And I didn't want to miss. Then I'd be in a very vulnerable position with an extremely pissed off man.

He shifted and I froze when his back brushed into the point of my knife. He stilled and stared down at me. His eyes narrowed and then something happened that I wasn't expecting.

"Is that a knife?" he asked, a slow smile spreading over his face.

"Uh…"

His hand wrapped around my wrist and wrenched my arm around until he was looking down at my throwing knife. His eyes flicked back up to mine. He cocked his head and the smile turned into a feral grin. "If you wanted it rough, baby, all you had to do was ask."

That…wasn't at all what- Why did he assume me having a knife meant I wanted it rough? Before I could ask, he slammed me up into the wall and his mouth was back on mine.