Born to be Bad. Crystal Green

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СКАЧАТЬ he kept much better track of his surroundings, but today he’d been distracted by Lamont’s threats to go to the media with what he knew. None of Damien’s marks had ever been that stupid.

      Would Lamont actually chance it?

      Damien highly doubted so, because the price was too high. Still, he didn’t like being targeted. Trailed. You always felt it in your spine—the watching. The way a potential threat sought out your vulnerable spots.

      And blondes like this woman standing in front of him were one of his biggest weaknesses.

      Now, as she glanced up at him with those baby-doll-blue eyes, Damien knew better than to let down his guard for the second time that day.

      She had Barbie packaging, but the innocence of her heart-shaped face was thrown out of whack by a surprisingly square jaw. Delicate, to be sure, but still strong.

      “So,” she said, cool as a mint sprig in an iced cocktail, “what kind of work is available here?”

      He ran a gaze over her body, starting from the flats of her sensible shoes upward—the long, tanned legs, the career-girl khaki skirt that covered slim hips and a trim waist, the humidity-soaked blue top that clung to a pair of small, rounded breasts. As his attention lingered there, her nipples hardened, pebbling the material in two strategic locations.

      Deliberately, he returned his focus to her face. Her cheeks were flushed, probably because she was insulted. Either that or… Could she be turned on by his interest?

      Did this girl play dirty? And had her game started when she’d followed him here?

      Lust speared through Damien, a raging grumble reaching from gut to cock. He could play dirty, too. In fact, that’s the only way he wanted it. Dirty, and easy to dust off.

      “What kind of work do you do?” he asked.

      “Waitressing.”

      “And?”

      She pursed those lips. Blow-job lips, as he’d grown up calling them. “I’m not sure I understand, Mr….?”

      “I’m asking about your experience, Ms….?” He mocked her by grinning.

      Refusing to back down, she laughed. “Call me Gem. Gem…James.”

      She rested a hand on her hip, and Damien ached, remembering how his palm had molded those curves.

      “I waitressed at an Italian restaurant in high school. In college, I worked at the same trendy bar for four years. I’ve also done time at a few chain restaurants recently. So what do you say? Are you hiring?”

      “No.”

      She glanced at the floor, but not before Damien saw a flash of disappointment. When she looked back up, she was giving him the puppy-dog treatment.

      “I swear, I’m a great server.”

      Was she now?

      He must’ve been wearing the happiest grin he could manage, because she perked up. “I really need a job. I moved out here a few months ago, and I haven’t gotten on my feet yet. I’ll work my ass off for this place.”

      “That’d be a shame, because even though I’ve only seen the front of you, I expect the back to be just as divine.”

      She gasped slightly, and her eyelashes lowered over an appraising gaze, not because he’d offended her, Damien guessed, but because he’d broken her code. Unlocked her.

      Again, he wondered if she’d come into Cuffs for more than a waitressing job.

      It wouldn’t be the first time a woman had wandered into one of his establishments seeking to test the rumors about Damien Theroux. There were females who liked the taste of bad boys, and he was only too happy to oblige when the need suited him.

      Truth to tell, he thought, moving forward, looming over her, it suited him now.

      Eyes a hazy blue, her soft lips parted, forcing him to stifle a pleased groan at the thought of how they’d feel on his penis. Without thinking, he slipped his hand into her waistband again, knuckles skimming against her hip bone. He pulled her closer, his cock hardening.

      For a second, neither of them moved. But within the blink of an eye, she recovered, cleared her throat, backed away. He kept a hold of her silk tank top, not wanting to let go. The material slithered out of her skirt.

      Damn, how he wanted to help her out of the rest of those clothes.

      As he rubbed the sinuous material between his thumb and forefinger, she ignored the gesture, acting as if it wasn’t happening. Her aloofness got him worked up because he couldn’t get a bead on this woman.

      Outside, rain started to patter on the roof.

      “Why would you want to work at Cuffs, anyway?” he asked in a low voice, as if they were in a bedroom, three inches away from a mattress. “Why don’t you go to Hooters? Crescent City Brewhouse? Somewhere ‘trendier’?”

      To her credit, she didn’t back down. “I like the name. Cuffs. What exactly does it mean?”

      Should he tell her it was an homage to the retired cops and blue-collar fellows who liked to hang out here?

      “Use your imagination,” he said instead.

      “Well, you’re not one for hiding behind social niceties, are you?”

      “Never.” Not since his dad had gotten worked over. Not since Martin Theroux had died from the shame brought on by the ruins of his life. Not since his son had decided that being bad was the only way to live good.

      “You’re not the type of guy who’d take pity on a woman in need and hire her out of the kindness of your heart?”

      “Not as a waitress.”

      “Then what…? Oh.”

      There it went. The lightbulb. That’s right, Damien thought. Think the worst.

      New Orleans cathouses were notorious, especially with men who dealt in Damien’s area. He didn’t know if Gem realized he ran a private gaming room in addition to his legitimate businesses, but going along with her assumption that he engaged in illicit dealings didn’t bother him in the least.

      Prostitution and drugs were part of the scene. They drew in customers, served as perks. Gaming downstairs, sex upstairs. That’s how it worked.

      Except for Damien. He was in it for the “marks”—victims—and the fleecing. Not that anyone needed to know why he kept his gaming clean of hookers and dope.

      The more horrible his reputation, the easier it would be for him to survive.

      “I’m not…” Gem gestured with her hands, waving them somewhere around her chest. “You know…”

      “That sort of girl?”

      She didn’t say anything.

      Their СКАЧАТЬ