Chapter Seventeen: Destiny
Smoke
I had two reasons for going to Sweet Spot. The first one was Naomi. I didn’t want her to be stuck borrowing a ride from one of her fellow dancers, left in a vulnerable position with that person in the middle of the night. Also, I just wanted to see her.
I thought I was prepared, since I’d seen her dance routine before, but this one was different. It was even more captivating, and the way she looked at me the whole time made it so erotic I had to keep an iron grip on myself to keep from storming the stage and doing something about the building passion in my body. This woman had no idea how possessive she made me feel. It was unprecedented.
So, I watched her and thought about all the bad things I wanted to do to her, trying to ignore the other men looking at her. She was mine. It didn’t matter what the other men in this place thought about her or wanted from her. I would be claiming this woman as mine, and I didn’t think I’d ever let her go.
When her routine was done, I stood up, going to the bar. It was the same bartender as last time. I approached him then pulled out a couple hundred dollar bills and a picture of Ink I’d taken from his apartment when Coyote and I broke in. This was the other reason I was here. I wanted to ask around and see if anyone had seen Ink here in the week before he was attacked. I wanted to know where that matchbook came from. Even if it had nothing to do with his attack, I just had to cross it off the list of leads.
“You ever seen this guy in here before?” I’d asked, placing the picture on the bar with the money beside it.
The bartender pocketed the cash and picked up the picture.
I waited as he studied it with an inscrutable expression.
“Nope,” he finally said, sounding sure as he handed it back to me. “Never been in here while I was working.”
Another dead end. But then I turned and saw Naomi had walked out of the back, her eyes on me. After I told her about the car, she was ready to get out of the place, and I was happy to oblige, holding her hand and pulling her outside.
“I’ll give you a ride home,” I said, nodding to a line of bikes parked close to the building. “If you’re up for it.”
“Hell yeah,” she agreed.
“How about going to my place too?” I asked.
A light appeared in her eyes that held a promise of a great night together. “Let me text the sitter, but I’m sure it won’t be a problem.”
Ten minutes later, we were on the road, the cool wind blowing through our clothing as I headed in the direction of home. Naomi clung to me, her warm body pressed into my back. It felt like sweet torture to have her so close, being unable to do anything about it yet. I took the long way home, even going a little out of my way to enjoy riding along the twisty back roads. On a straight stretch, I turned my head and shouted, “Hang on!”
Naomi tightened her hold around me and I laid on the accelerator, sending the bike flying forward. I could hear Naomi’s joyous laughter at the increase in speed, and the sound seemed to reverberate around inside of my chest.
It was late by the time we got to the house. I pulled all the way into the garage as I parked.
She was all smiles as she got off the bike.
“You’ve ridden before,” I said. It wasn’t really a question.
She nodded anyway. “What can I say? Bad boy biker is kind of my type.” With that, she handed over her helmet and shook out her hair, then walked right past me into my house.
I groaned and followed along behind. This woman was amazing.
“You want a beer?” I offered. Her nose scrunched up, and I remembered the fruity drink Ink had made her at Wheelz. She probably didn’t like beer very much. “I don’t have much else to offer. Maybe a bottle of water?”
“Perfect,” she said.
I handed over the drink.
She walked around the living room, checking out the pictures and other decor. I didn’t have much, but it was tasteful, mostly pictures of friends, one of my parents, and a few unique art pieces that I’d picked up at random over the years. When Naomi passed the door leading to the patio, she stopped and gazed out. It was dark outside, but the moon provided a little illumination.
“We can go out there, if you want,” I offered. “There’s patio furniture.”
Naomi didn’t need to be told twice. Pulling open the door, she stepped outside, looking around. It was a normal fenced-in backyard, just flat grass, so there wasn’t much to see, but she seemed happy enough as she took a seat on the wicker chair, relaxing back into the seat.
I sat beside her.
“You know,” she began. “I’ve always wanted to have a house with a big backyard. Gavin and I lived in an apartment building in Illinois, so he never had a private yard. I’d love to have a place someday with room outside for kids to play, if I ever have more.”