Savage Sons MC Books 1 5 by Emma Mountford

Darcie

I hadn't gone into the bar looking for trouble. Just the opposite, in fact. If I had been concentrating on where I was going, if I had even glanced up at the sign hanging crookedly over the door, I wouldn't have pushed that door open.

But I wasn't looking, and I most definitely wasn't paying attention. All I wanted to do was get out of the overbearing heat and get myself a cold drink.

Maybe several ice-cold drinks. 

But as soon as my eyes grew accustomed to the sudden gloom, I knew I was in trouble. 

Several pairs of eyes swivelled in my direction, spearing me to the spot. 

Well damn.

I had two seconds to make the decision, but honestly, I only needed one. Straightening my shoulders, I made my way to the bar. My flip flops seemed unnaturally loud on the floor. But that was ok. I expected stares. I had been getting stares from the moment I had stepped out of the car in this godforsaken town. I looked like an outsider because I was an outsider. And that was fine by me.

They could all go to hell anyway. 

I was out of here.

On the next bus, the next plane. 

Hell, I'd walk if it came to it. But only after I had had a drink. I deserved a drink after the day I'd had. A very large, very stiff drink. 

"Hi." Leaning against the warm wood of the bar, I smiled my most winning smile. The one that showed a lot of teeth but didn't quite reach my eyes.  

The man behind the bar turned slowly, his brown eyes appraising as he stared over at me. But he didn't smile, and he didn't speak. He just carried on wiping the already dry glass with his rag.  

"Hello?" He finally finished his job, which seemed to take him far longer than was necessary. Placing the now sparkling glass down, he looked me over, and I gave him another smile, followed by a wave as I plopped my bag on the worn wood, rifling through to find some money.  

"What can I help you with?" His accent was thick, rough around the edges like everyone else in this bar by the looks of it.

I glanced around. My eyes taking it all in, the rough, scarred wooden tables. The oversized flag on the wall that seemed to take pride of place. But I didn't catch any of the several eyes that were staring at me.

"A pint." My voice faltered as the man next to me laughed.  

"A pint?" He put on a very fake, very bad upper-class English accent, and I felt my cheeks flame as he turned to me, leaning into my space just enough to make me feel uncomfortable, but not enough to be threatening yet.

I gave a small laugh, my eyes downward as I concentrated on finding any and all loose change in my bag. "Beer." I tried to smile, but it came out uncertain. Watery.

Damn it. I would not cry here. Not in this bar and not in front of these hard-eyed men who were all still staring at me like I was a god damn alien. 

"Anything will do." I added, cupping the coins in my hand. I tried to count it quickly. Why had I left without at least making sure I had some actual cash on me? Because I was a dumb ass fool, that's why. 

I was always doing things like that, letting my hot head get the better of me and rushing off without thinking. 

At home, I could get away with it, but here? Where I didn't know anyone? Yeah, my impulsive nature was going to get me into trouble.

"Do you take card?" I held up the small piece of plastic between my fingers, and the man next to me chuckled again. The bartender's eyebrows shot down, a frown marring his handsome face.  "Do we look like we take card?"

I looked about again. No. No, it definitely didn't look like they took card.  Embarrassed, I shoved it back down into the bottom of my bag and went back to counting the money in my hand. 

Damn it, why did American currency have to be so confusing? I was so engrossed in trying to work it out that I didn't see the man next to me move until his hand slid over my hip. 

"I'll buy you that beer." His fingers scrunched up the grey material of my favourite maxi dress as he gripped my hip a little tighter. And I could do nothing but blink up at him in surprise.  

"Thanks." I tried for another smile, and this time he returned it with a predatory one of his own. "But it's fine. I'll just get a lemonade." Lemonade was probably a better choice. No good ever came of me drinking when I was in a mood. It made me even more reckless.  And that was the last thing I needed to be right now.  "A soda." I tugged the delicate material from his grasp, but this only made him chuckle even more. "Any soda, please." 

"I just said I would get you your beer." His breath wafted over me. Stale beer and something else. Something I couldn't quite put my finger on. "You just gotta say thank you." He winked, and I felt my stomach roll. There could be no mistaking what he meant.

"I'll pass but thank you," I stressed the last two words. 

"I'll get her that drink." The voice was male, masculine and deep. And my head snapped up. My eyes finally met his as he stood just down the bar from me. His head was cocked in our direction like he had been enjoying the show. "Anything she wants." His drawl washed over me in the same way his eyes did. Like he was undressing me.  "Take your hands off of her." He was younger than the man who had been hoping to get lucky, but there was a note of authority to his voice.

Put that with the easy smile and those gorgeous blue eyes, and it was a heady combination. 

A combination I really shouldn't be staring at. 

"Aww, come on."

"I said hands off." Booted feet made short work of the space between us. "Now."

I could do nothing but stare at the etched wood of the bar and my hands that were on it.

"Whatever you say." The mocking sarcasm wasn't lost on me. The last thing I needed was a bar fight over who was going to buy me a drink. I had too many problems of my own to deal with that right now. "Wasn't that interested anyway."

Startled, I turned my head sharply. 

What a dick.

But Mr Stale Beer was gone. In his place was Mr Pretty Blue Eyes.

Mr Gorgeous Smile.

"I'm Havoc."

***

Havoc...

It was obviously some kind of nickname, but it suited him somehow. Just one look at him, and I could tell he caused havoc for miles around. Especially with women. With those twinkling blue eyes and those dimples that deepened when his smile widened. 

"Darcie." I finally found my voice, extending my hand formally. Which just made me even more embarrassed. What did I have to go and do that for? I was about to drop it when his fingers curled around my palm, his other hand coming to rest on top, so my one small hand was trapped between both of his. "Darcie Summers, Mr Havoc." I gave him a nervous smile because what else could I do? The man-made me nervous. There was no getting away from that. 

"Just Havoc." His smile turned down slightly as two beers were placed on the bar by his elbow. He flicked his eyes to the side. "Keep them coming." His accent, whilst not as thick as the older man from before, was still thick and sweet as treacle. "In fact, whatever the lady wants. Put it on my tab."

"You got it." Brown eyes crinkled in amusement as the bartender turned and went back to wiping down his already gleaming glasses.

"Are you ok?" 

"What?" I stuttered, "Yeah, of course. Why do you ask?" My hand went to my face instinctively, my thumb brushing under my eye. I had thought I had got rid of the smudged mascara from my last bout of crying, but maybe I had missed a spot or two.

"Here." I watched in amazement as he licked the pad of his thumb. He swiped it under my left eye. "There, good as new."

His skin against mine was gentle, but there was a roughness there, even under the wetness. 

I couldn't help it; my eyes met his and skirted away.