Chapter 8

Mal arrived at Madame R just before midnight. He parked Raina's pickup—his excuse for coming to see her—in the street behind the club. If someone was harassing Raina, there was no point providing them with such a tempting target right out in the open.

He walked back around to the front entrance.

Luis was at the door. "Hey, man, congratulations on the game." He waved Mal through with a grin.

"Thanks." Mal nodded and slipped into the tiny foyer. He paid the cover charge and ascended the stairs. The sound of music and voices was much louder than it had been the other night. Figured. Saturday night was the busiest night for just about anywhere that served booze. Add in pretty women doing interesting things in the sort of dress Raina had been wearing the other night and the patrons would be rolling in. As he pushed through the curtain at the top of the stairs, he stopped, getting his bearings. The small stage was empty and it seemed the band was taking a break but there was music blasting from the sound system, someone singing about just one last kiss.

He didn't want to think about last kisses.

He was much more focused on that first kiss. And the one after that. The next kiss.

But that meant convincing Raina that the next one had to happen.

Despite the noise, the crowd seemed tame enough. There wasn't the sort of vibe to the room that he associated with trouble. Between the army, security work, and traipsing around various dives after Ally, he had a pretty good radar for trouble when it was brewing.

But nothing was spiking his senses right now, so he relaxed a little and changed his surveillance of the room to something more targeted. Seeking out one bright-red head in the sea of heads.

It took longer than he'd thought. Raina wasn't exactly tall, not even if she strapped on four-inch heels. Hell, next to the girls from the Angels she was positively tiny, so she didn't stand out from the crowd. But eventually he caught a glimpse of red and started to work his way through the crowd toward it. As he got closer, he heard her laugh ring out.

The shock of it—of that moment of instant gut-tightening recognition—made his head feel light for a moment as his body tightened. God, that was a sexy laugh. No wonder he couldn't see her. She was ringed by a group of men, all of them likely—unless they were complete morons—trying to make her laugh again.

One of them must have succeeded because her laugh came again. He closed the last few feet then hesitated. He was trying to convince Raina to give him a shot. She was obviously nervous about him. Thought he was a bad boy. Charging in on her conversation like a caveman staking his claim wasn't going to improve that impression of him. The grouped men were standing near the bar. So maybe it was time for a bit of strategy while he scoped out the situation more thoroughly. He turned toward the bar and found a gap in the row of people trying to buy drinks. He slid into the space, just a foot or so from Raina and her admirers.

One of the bartenders leaned forward to hear Mal's order over the noise. He'd limited himself to a single glass of champagne at the Saints party for the toast that Alex had made but hadn't felt like anything more. Maybe in the back of his mind he'd been planning to come to Raina all along. Whatever the reason, he was in Brooklyn now, just a short cab ride home, so he could have another drink. "Scotch," he said. "Rocks."

He generally stuck to beer these days but standing here and listening to Raina laugh, he needed something stronger. Something that might have enough burn to dull the irresistible pull Raina seemed to exert on him.

Because, despite all the explanations and rationales he'd been giving himself for why exactly he was here again and why exactly he'd offered Tucker a hefty bonus to replace Raina's tires after hours on a Saturday, the driving force was the need to see her again. Of course, the fact that Tucker was an ex-cop who could check the tires and Raina's car for prints was also handy.

His desire to see her again was, to be fair, tempered with a healthy dose of concern after her tires had been slashed. That had set all his instincts to high alert. Still, even if that hadn't happened, if Raina had just jumped in her hot-pink truck and driven off after the press conference, he was pretty sure he would have found himself back here anyway. Wanting to see that face. Wanting to see the green eyes light up when she thought she was putting him in his place. Wanting to hear that little rasp in her voice and taste that goddamn mouth.

And now here he was with no idea how to bring that about.

He turned, scotch in hand, but didn't give up his spot at the bar. Keeping half an ear on Raina and her group of admirers, he settled in to wait for the herd to thin a little. To occupy the time, he scanned the room and the crowd, seeing if anyone stood out. Someone was targeting Raina. Question was, Why? And were they ballsy enough to try to get close to her?

But he didn't spot anyone who made him pause. Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves, in small groups and couples. Laughter and the clink of glasses filled the room. He didn't see anyone sitting by themselves. No men—or women—who seemed out of place.

Another mouthful of scotch, the peat-tinged burn of it warming his stomach. She served good liquor. He hadn't specified a brand yet what he was drinking was a decent single-malt. Not the blended cheap stuff that so many bars would try to fob off on the customers.

She'd want people to enjoy themselves. And that included drinks that were as good as the entertainment.

He heard Raina laugh again and turned toward the group. Just in time to see two of the men move away. Which left a gap in the throng surrounding her. He could see the moment she spotted him. Her smile went a little stiff and then he saw her force herself to relax. To look like she didn't care.

It didn't work. He could also see the flush in her cheek and the sudden deepening of her eye color.

He waited.

She stayed where she was. Neither of them looked away.

One heartbeat. Two. Three. Four.

Then, to his relief, she gave the tiniest shake of her head, flashed a brilliant, apologetic smile at the men around her, and came toward him.

It didn't take many steps. Just barely long enough for Mal to register the looks of annoyance on the faces of the guys she was abandoning. And for him to enjoy the hit of satisfaction that hummed through his veins as they shot him looks that should have set his hair on fire.

He refrained from the smile he wanted to send back at them. The smug I-win smile. Because, while it would be undeniably satisfying, it might just send Raina turning on her heel and heading back to them.

So. Dismiss the other men from his mind. Focus on the woman. The one who had an equal chance of setting him on fire. Only in all the good ways.

"Ms. Easton," he said when she tilted her head to one side, put her hand on her hip, and looked up at him with challenge clear in her eyes.

"Mr. Coulter," she replied, letting the last word stretch out just a little. It put a slightly rougher note in her voice that was pure sex. "You developing a taste for burlesque?"

He let his smile go then. "Maybe." He returned the look she was giving him. "Some of it anyway." Tonight she wore red. Red satin. A shade lighter than blood. The shade of femme fatale lipstick and expensive racing cars. Designed to stop a man in his tracks.

It was working.

The satin hugged her body more tightly than the fringed dress from the other night had. It shouldn't have made him feel like he'd been hit in the gut with a two-by-four. After all, he'd seen her in workout gear that revealed more of her than the dress did. He was familiar with the sleek lines of her and the curves.

But apparently red satin changed things. Especially paired with equally red lips and slicked-down hair and sparkling earrings that cascaded halfway down her neck, drawing attention to the curve where her neck met her shoulders with little squares of reflected light dancing over her pale skin. A perfect place to kiss.

His fingers curled into fists, resisting the urge to grab her and pull her up onto the bar so he could do just that.

He was having trouble remembering his name, let alone what his excuse for being here was, but he hadn't completely lost his reason.

"Nice dress," he managed.

"I'll tell Brady you like it," she said. "He designed it."

Mal made a note to tell Brady to keep up the good work. He obviously had a fine appreciation for the female form even if he didn't have any interest in getting up close and personal with it.

"Good job," he said.

Raina smiled and shifted her weight in a way that somehow made the satin pull even tighter across all sorts of interesting places.

"Was there something you wanted?" she asked.

And there was a leading question if ever he'd heard one. Which made him wonder if it was a test. He fished in his pocket for the keys to her truck, held them up. "I thought you might like these back."

"My keys?"

"Yup."

"My tires are fixed already?" She shook her head. "Let me guess, you said jump and the garage said how high?"

"Like I said, I know the guy." He wasn't going to explain to her about Tuck and his background. Not right now. "He was happy to do it. But if that's a problem, I can drive the truck right back out there and you can wait until morning to have it back."

She blinked at him. "No, I'd rather have it tonight."

"Then, as my mother would say, say thank you to the nice man." He grinned at her then.

She shook her head. "Oh no, you're not the nice man."

"What do you mean? I fixed your truck."

"You got someone to fix it, you mean."

"I delegated. Same difference."

"Not entirely."

"Still, it seems like a nice thing to do, to me."

"I rather think that that depends on your motivations," she said.

"You really want to talk about my motivations here in the middle of your club?"

Another head shake. "No. Because the show's about to start again and I have to get backstage. So thank you for getting my tires fixed." She held out her hand for the keys.

He didn't hand them over. "How about I just look after these until we have time to discuss my motivations?"

He waited for her to reach for them again. He would have handed them over if she did. But she didn't. Instead she just lifted an eyebrow then shrugged. "Fine." She glanced back over her shoulder at the bar. "Get yourself a drink and watch the show. I'll find you afterward."

Raina spent the show in a half daze. Operating on autopilot, she emceed her way through flirting with the crowd and getting the girls organized backstage. She and Brady had been working on a routine with the pink-and-black wings he'd made for her but she decided not to try it out tonight. Not with Mal in the audience watching her. She couldn't see him, didn't know if he'd stayed up the back at the bar or found another dark spot to lurk, but the stage lights in her eyes meant that she couldn't spot him in the crowd. She could, however, feel him.

Every time she stepped onto the stage, her skin warmed and her breath started to quicken; she had to use all the tricks she'd learned over the years to smile and carry on as if nothing was bothering her. As if she couldn't feel him watching her, feel the weight of his presence in the room.

She'd seen him standing at the bar and felt her heart turn over. She'd gone toward him without thinking. Had found it hard to walk away from him to do her job.

Damn the man. She was trying hard to do the smart thing.

But he kept turning up.

She had a feeling her grip on smart was rapidly loosening. Slipping and sliding as surely as her resistance.

Somehow she made it through the show without falling off the stage or losing her train of thought. When she finally got through the routine of bringing the girls back for a final bow and thanking the band, she might as well have run a marathon. Her breath was coming too fast and her legs felt oddly shaky.

She couldn't stop herself looking for him one last time. And this time she saw him. Standing up by the bar, though on the opposite side of the room from where he had been earlier. Their gazes caught, just for a second, and she thought he tipped the glass he was holding in her direction. Then she made herself look away before she couldn't.

She made herself take her time backstage, for once not going out and mingling with the last of the patrons before they left. She left the task of chasing them all out to Luis and his team while she hung out with the girls as they took off their costumes and wriggled into normal clothes. Some of them would head out to party on awhile longer. Others would be going home to families and bed. While she … well, she had to deal with Mal.

What exactly that might involve was something she couldn't quite make her mind focus on. She could play half a dozen scenarios in her head—sending him home, drinking with him, talking to him, finding him gone when she finally emerged from backstage, taking him home with her—but none of it felt quite real. Not when her blood was fizzing and her body was humming and the whole night seemed to have a peculiar sharpness to the air.

One by one the performers left until Raina had no choice but to retreat to her office. Normally she put her makeup on and took it off down in the dressing room with everyone else, but tonight she wasn't quite ready to wipe off the layers of cosmetics. Stage Raina, with her perfectly groomed brows, long black lashes, and bold red lips, always knew what to do. She could tame a song or a crowd or a routine and never miss a beat. Stage Raina could handle Mal Coulter. Real Raina wasn't so sure she could.

So Stage Raina could stay for now. Though she took off the dress and pulled on black jeans and a red sweater and exchanged the four-inch platform heels for boots that were far more comfortable but still gave her height a boost. She was happy enough to run around in flats most of the time—as a dancer, comfort for her feet came first—but tonight she needed those few extra inches.

War paint and battle armor.

Why did she feel like taking on Mal was a fight?

A fight for what, exactly?

It was a question she didn't want to examine too closely.

When she got down to the bar, Mal was still there. The sight of him, standing talking to Luis and Brady, made her pulse kick again. All right. He hadn't left. So she was going to have to deal with him one way or another.

Send him packing or let him come closer.

There wasn't another option and spending any more time dancing around each other was going to shred her nerves.

She pulled her shoulders back and walked into the fray.

The woman was on a mission, that much was clear to Mal as he watched Raina approach. Clear in the I-mean-business posture of the straight back and the fluid dancer's stride that was tamed from sexy to purposeful. Clear in the sweater that revealed little skin but hugged her body tightly. Clear in the spike-heeled black boots and the flash of red lipstick still turning her mouth into something expressly designed to make a man think the sorts of thoughts he was trying not to think.

Question was, What exactly she was out to achieve? Getting rid of him or … no. Better not to think about that.

Though there was probably very little chance of not thinking about it. He'd been thinking about it all night. Ever since he'd climbed into her truck to bring it back to her.

As Raina reached them, Brady and Luis exchanged a look and then Brady said, "All right, we have some stuff to deal with before we go home. Good night." The two of them disappeared through a door to the side of the bar before he had time to respond.

Leaving him alone with Raina.

"You're still here," she said when she reached him. She'd tipped her head into that little head-tilt, challenging thing she did. Nervous.

Good nervous or bad nervous?

"I said I would be."

The angle of her head didn't alter. "So, how did you like the show?"

Definitely nervous. And maybe looking for things to help her make up her mind about him. Like him not liking her show. Well, she was going to have to look for another reason. He'd watched the show for nearly two hours and though, yes, the most sharply focused parts had been those where Raina herself had appeared between each act, he'd found the acts in between surprising. Funny, sexy, thoughtful. And a little bit intriguingly weird. Unexpected. Much like Raina herself. "I thought it was great."

"You—" Her mouth snapped closed.

He waited. Waited for her to say something like Tell me what your favorite part was.

But apparently she was too smart to give him that particular opening.

"You're not drinking?" she said looking behind him to the bar. The bartender had taken his glass a good while ago. He'd switched to soda after the whiskey.

"I was waiting for you."

"You want to drink with me?"

"I wanted to see you. If you want to drink, we can drink."

"It's getting late for a nightcap."

He shrugged. She was right. It was close to two a.m. And his body was going to hate him in the morning. He had an early start. But he'd been running on six hours of sleep or less for months now. So another night wasn't going to kill him.

"What's your poison?"

"Scotch usually. Beer. A good Merlot." Ally had drunk tequila by preference. He didn't do tequila anymore. Just the smell of it brought back too many memories.

"And if I don't care to offer you a nightcap?"

"Then I guess I'll walk you to your truck or wherever you need to go and we'll say good night."

"Just like that?"

He blew out a breath. "Raina, I'm not sixteen. Neither are you. We have something here. Something you're not sure about getting into. I can respect that. I will respect that. But like you said, it's getting late. And I'm too old for long convoluted conversations that dance around the subject."

One side of her mouth lifted. "Convoluted? Now who's using big words?"

"I told you, I read too. So you decide."

"Drinking or leaving?" she said.

"Or another option. Whatever you want. Tell me to go, I go." He watched indecision and something else—something he hoped was closer to frustration—flicker in her eyes. "Tell me to stay I stay. So tell me to stay."

"That's not letting me decide," she protested.

"I didn't say I wouldn't state my case," he said.

"You want to give me a list of your pros and cons?"

"Preferably just pros for now. So what's it to be?"

"I—" She stopped. Swallowed. "A drink. Just a drink. For the sake of not being convoluted, a drink does not equal sex."

"Thanks for the clarification," he said drily. "But like I said, I'm not sixteen. I don't expect sex in return for the pleasure of my company." He grinned at her, relief pounding his veins. She hadn't sent him home. That was a step in the right direction. He nodded at the bar. "So, do you want to drink here or somewhere else?"

She rolled her shoulders. "Somewhere else. I'll be back here soon enough tomorrow." She rolled her shoulders again. "My place. It's not far from here."

He'd known that vaguely. That she lived close to the club. Which made sense. If you were going to work somewhere that involved long days and late nights, not having a long commute made life easier. He'd found himself wishing a time or two that he'd bought a place on Staten Island but Brooklyn was home, so he was sticking for now. He could always talk Alex into getting a company condo or something for nights when one or more of them needed to crash. Hopefully those nights would get less frequent in a month or so. Once they got into the rhythm of the season itself.

"Earth to Mal," Raina said. "I'm inviting you for a nightcap here, it does a girl's ego no good if you don't answer."

"Well, we can't have that now, can we?" he said. He nodded toward the velvet curtain and the stairs that were going to lead him out of the club and into Raina's more private world. "So lead on."