Nothing good could come from a look like that.
She stole a glance over at him and found his eyes on her again, if they’d ever left her. His blond hair shone under the lights, the hard line of his jaw casting a shadow on his neck, and his lips formed a sweeping curve that was somehow stone and silk at once. The expression was fierce and intense, and an unwelcome flush blossomed on her cheeks.
Kat dropped her gaze back to the drink in front of her, brows knit as a string of curse words rolled through her head.
She had no time for a guy, never mind a guy like that. Because that guy was trouble. She knew that as well as she knew the time it took her car to redline in first gear or the size of her engine or the level of pressure her tires needed to grip pavement best.
The swinging door to the back of the bar opened, and Kat’s younger sister, Kiki, appeared with a smile on her face and her arms full of liquor bottles. A few people cheered when they saw her, and her smile flashed even brighter as she winked, shimmying her shoulders.
Kat laughed, shaking her head. “Here, let me help you.”
She grabbed a bottle of rum and vodka from Kiki’s arms, and the sisters turned to stock the bar.
Kiki’s black hair swung in a high ponytail, so long that the ends brushed the space between her shoulder blades, and the deep cut of her tight black T-shirt made her neck look a mile long. Part of making money tending bar was selling your assets, and Kiki was an unparalleled expert.
“Is the boxer guy here yet?” Kiki craned her neck to look down the bar.
“Yeah, over there.” Kat jerked her chin toward the brothers, shaking her head again when she saw that Owen’s mouth was hanging open like a trout as he got a good look at Kiki.
This was The Kiki Effect, as Kat liked to call it. Kiki was the dreamer, the optimist, the doe-eyed little pixie who people instinctively felt compelled to take care of.
Kat was the flip. She was the cynic, the pessimist, the hard-eyed viper who warned everyone away. It was just easier that way.
When Kiki saw Owen, her smile tilted, her eyes sparking with devilry.
“Body shots,” she said with a flick of her brow.
“Oh God,” Kat muttered.
Kiki picked up a bottle of tequila, a lime, and a shot glass on her way out from behind the bar. The crowd parted for her like the Red Sea, cheering as she slinked by, hips swaying — they knew her plan. This was not her first time at the rodeo, and it was always a good show.
Kat stayed behind the bar, following Kiki to the brothers. Dillon was still staring at Kat, and when their eyes locked again, that tingle zapped up her spine like an SOS.
Kiki came to a stop behind Dillon and tapped him on the shoulder, and when he blinked, the spell between them was broken.
He glanced over at his brother and swiveled to face Kiki.
“Congratulations on your win, Mr. Malloy. Complimentary body shot to celebrate?” Kiki held up the bottle of tequila and gave it a little shake, flashing her megawatt smile.
Dillon laughed, and it was a good laugh, an honest laugh. “I don’t drink, but my brother does.” He clapped the shoulder of Owen, who looked like he’d been struck by lightning. Or a frying pan.
Kiki turned her attention to Owen, and as she looked him over, her face morphed from determined to curious, her smile transforming from sultry to sweet.
”I didn’t catch your name,” she said, her voice tinged with wonder.
Owen straightened up, blinking at her. “I’m Owen.”
“I’m Kiki, and I want to know one thing.”
Her sexy smile was back, and he leaned toward her.
“Anything.”
“Are you ready for this?”
He smiled slowly, an inching of his lips on one side. “Probably not.”
Kiki laughed and wiggled her way between the brothers to pour the shot. Dillon backed out of the way to give her room, but Owen didn’t move, forcing her to brush against him, his eyes amused and lit with challenge now that he’d found his wits. His face was just inches from her ear, and Kat didn’t miss Kiki’s shallow breaths as she leaned into him just enough to telegraph her awareness of his body.
Kat frowned.
Trouble. Both brothers were trouble.
Every man’s eyes within twenty feet were on her when she stuck out her tongue, licked her thumb, and trailed the wet digit down her neck. She reached for the salt tray with her other hand and grabbed a pinch, lifting her chin to spread it down the wet path. And when she finally backed away, it was with a shot glass in one hand and a lime in the other, which she nestled in her cleavage.
With that, she held out the shot and smiled in invitation.
Owen stood — he was tall, much taller than Kat had expected — and took the drink from Kiki’s fingers. His deep brown eyes held hers, his lips inching into a smile as he stepped into her space, the tension between them crackling like electricity.
The entire bar might have been holding their breath.
Owen slipped his hand onto the curve of her neck, his thumb resting in the hollow behind her ear, and he lowered his lips to trail his tongue up the line of salt, pausing to close his lips against her skin. She leaned into his hand like it was keeping her upright, even when he broke away to knock back the shot.
He turned his focus back to her.
Kiki’s green eyes burned as his hand skimmed from her neck down her back, and he lowered his face to her breasts where the lime waited for him, hovering for just the span of a breath. And when he buried his lips in her breasts, a shiver racked through her that Kat could see from feet away.
When he stood again, the crowd broke into whistles and catcalls, and Owen looked down at Kiki for a long moment. Her eyes were on his mouth, her chin tilting and lips parting for a kiss. But Owen stepped back with a smile bordering on evil if it wasn’t so sweetly handsome. He took his seat again, leaving Kiki standing stupidly behind him in shock.
Kiki was not accustomed to being on the other side of that particular coin, and to see the marvel firsthand should have been entertaining. But it wasn’t. Not after what they’d been through with Eric. Not while they were on the run.
A breeze stirred in the bar, and Kat thought she smelled roses.
How strange, she thought.
Kiki’s posture shifted — her chin dropped, eyes on fire. She straightened up, took three steps, grabbed Owen’s arm, and spun him around.
She cupped his stunned face and pulled in a breath that drew their lips together with a fever that left everyone around sweating.
It didn’t look like a kiss. It looked like she was claiming him.
He wrapped his arms around her as she melted into him, her back arching and arms winding around his neck. Their bodies twisted together, the kiss deepening, and after a long, hot moment, she popped away, leaning in to whisper something in his ear before slinking away.
The crowd went crazy — with the exception of Kat and Dillon — as Kiki walked around the bar, leaving Owen sitting on his stool, a blinking fool.
Kat’s frown deepened. And when Dillon turned around, his expression matched hers.
Kiki floated over with lust-drunk eyes, and the crowd pressed up to the bar for drinks, leaving Kat no time to hound her sister about whatever that nonsense had been.
If it had just been a body shot, that would have been one thing. But the way she’d looked at Owen told Kat that was just the beginning. And if Kiki opened that door, the delicate safety they’d found could come crumbling down like a house of cards.
Dillon’s jaw ticked in an attempt to stop him from fuming in the direction of Owen, who was staring into his scotch with glassy eyes.
He had one trigger, one big red button, and it had Owen’s name on it. Every good thing Dillon had done in his life was to protect his brother, and that wouldn’t stop today. Because the way Owen had looked at Kiki was the kind of look that would get Owen hurt.
“That was some display,” Dillon said, trying not to sound bitchy. He??
?d failed.
“Hmm?” When Owen looked over at Dillon, his eyes were unfocused, pupils dilated.
“You look like you’ve been shot through the heart. Need a cold shower?”
“Did that really just happen?” Owen asked no one in particular.
“It did.”
“I’ve got to talk to her. I’ve got to get her number,” Owen mumbled, moving to stand.
Dillon’s voice dropped with his brow, stopping his brother with a hand on his arm. “Whoa, hold up. I don’t think you should pursue that.”
Owen turned to face Dillon with his face drawn. “Well, fortunately, I’m a fucking adult and can make my own decisions.”
“Come on.” A half-assed scoff escaped him. “You know I don’t mean it like that.”
“How exactly do you mean it?”
“What I mean,” Dillon tried to explain, “is that you get attached, and she’s not the kind of girl you want to get attached to.”
Owen’s frown deepened. “How the hell do you know?”
“Most girls don’t make out with random guys in bars. At least, not the kind of girl you take out for a steak dinner.” Dillon glanced at the girl in question, her cheeks pink as she tended to waiting customers. “Trust me. I know her type.”
“What’s your problem?” Owen asked on a defensive breath.
Dillon scrubbed a hand over his face, frustrated and edgy. His anger — the flickering flame that relentlessly burned in his chest — flared, snapping at his ribs from the inside. “I’m fucking tired, and I don’t want to be here. I think she’s gonna be a problem for you, and I think you need to leave her alone. She kissed you. So what?”
Owen looked hurt, which somehow aggravated Dillon even more, particularly when he realized he wasn’t communicating well or even moderately well. Words weren’t his thing. Actions were. And the only action that could get him out of the situation would be to grab Owen by the scruff of his neck and drag him out of the bar.
But, upon looking closer, he found he wasn’t mad at Owen at all. He was mad at that chick who had shoved her tongue down his throat.
So he redirected his anger in that direction.
“Hey, Kat,” he called — Kiki was out of earshot in the loud bar.
Kat smiled, but Dillon barely saw it. “What can I do for you?”
“Is that something she does often?” he shot with a jerk of his chin in Kiki’s direction, his face tight and hand clenched in his lap.
Her smile fell, her eyes hardening to match his own. “When the spirit moves her. What’s it to you?”
“I was just trying to talk some sense into my brother here. He’s the settle-down type, and, well, girls like her aren’t. Am I right?”
“Hey—” Owen tried to interject.
But Kat stiffened and folded her arms across her chest. “She’s actually my sister, so maybe you should watch your fucking mouth.”
Dillon shook his head. “Sorry,” he said, not at all sorry and not even pretending to be. “Just looking out for him.”
“Looks to me like he’s an adult who’s fully capable of making his own decisions, like licking my sister’s neck like a fucking lollipop.”
He bristled. “Well, she was the one with the fruit in her tits. She was asking for it; that’s my whole fucking point.”
“Jesus Christ, Dillon—” Owen started, but they wouldn’t stop.
Kat hung a hand on her hip, and her eyes lasered on Dillon’s like she would burn a hole through him if she could. “What the fuck is your problem? Don’t roll in here and insult me just because you’re some ‘roided-out motherfucker with anger issues and tiny balls.”
His anger fired like a fucking flamethrower. “You want to know my problem? My problem is that I don’t like your sister, and I don’t like her face-fucking my brother.”
At that, Kat leaned toward him, smiling as sweetly as a slit throat, saying cheerfully through her teeth, “Go fuck yourself, asshole.”
She turned on her heel and walked away, leaving him boiling on his stool for only a split second. And then he stood and stormed out with Owen on his heels, sputtering apologies over his shoulder.
The silence in the theater room was broken by an awkward clearing of a throat, and Hermes turned off the television.
“Well, it’s late,” he said with a plastic smile on his face. “Let the games begin and all that. Ice cream and popcorn are in the kitchen.”
The gods began to stand and move out, though with some trepidation, all of them eyeing Dita, who tried to keep her game face on.
It could have been worse. But not by much.
“You okay?” Perry asked from her side.
They hadn’t moved from their seats.
“Mmhmm.”
“No, but really.”
Dita took a breath and released it. “It’ll be fine. I’ve got Kiki and Owen,” she clipped.
Perry opened her mouth to argue just as Ares walked up. Her mouth snapped shut.
He stopped in front of her, and she tipped her chin to meet his eyes, shooting for defiance. But the look he gave her — one heavy with heat and lust and love and hatred — stopped her from doing much of anything.
Like the asshole he was, he knew he had her. His lips tilted into a smirk as he bent down, caging her with his hands on the armrests.
“You’re not ready for this, Dita.” His breath was sweet, hitting her face in puffs that pulled her toward him with the backdraft. “And when you lose, I know just what I’ll do with my prize.”
And then he disappeared, leaving her in a haze.
Perry watched her blink, her face twisting into a scowl. “Ugh, I fucking hate him.”
Dita looked off in the direction he’d gone, wishing she felt the same.
In the early hours of the morning, Kat sped through the streets of Brooklyn, dog-tired and dreaming of a hot shower and her feet between her sheets.
What a long fucking night, she thought, yawning while she waited for her garage door to open. The fighter’s party had raged on without the fighter’s presence. He wasn’t as important as he thought, which made her feel a little better. Not much, but a little.
She eased her car in and killed the engine, yawning again as she stepped out.
Kiki closed her door with a thump. “Stop yawning,” she said, the words stretched through a yawn of her own.
“Sorry.” Kat closed the garage door, and they walked out of the detached building and into the garden, trudging past the low lights along the landscaping against the fence.
Their father had spared no expense when he’d heard they were on their way from Vegas, buying them a completely ostentations brand new three-story, dual-master, completely ostentatious brownstone in Brooklyn Heights. He’d decked it out; everything was modern and expensive and way too much for Kat. He’d even hired a decorator, who had designed their rooms to suit their personalities. Kiki’s was all high-end, hip, and a little girlie while Kat’s was clean and simple and dark.
Kat had asked him not to do so much — she had money of her own and preferred to take care of herself. But her father was a control freak with way too much money, and spending it on his daughters was one of his favorite ways to get rid of it.
Kat unlocked the back door and walked in, clicking on the kitchen light as she dropped her bag by the stairs.
Kiki followed and closed the door behind her, leaning against it. “What a night.”
“I’ll say.” She reached into the cabinet for a glass. “So are you going to explain the whole thing with the body shot and groping and all?”
Kiki pulled out her ponytail and shook her hair loose with her fingers. “I don’t know.” Her voice was full of wonder, lips smiling, green eyes wide. “He took me by surprise.”
“I’d say you took him by surprise. That kiss … I mean, what the hell, Kiki?” Kat pushed her glass into the water dispenser.
Kiki lifted her foot to unlace her combat boot with a laugh on her lips. “I don’t know. God, when he slip
ped his hand into my neck into that spot— you know the spot, the one where a man’s hand fits so perfectly — I thought I was going to die right then and there. But when he kissed my neck, I almost climbed him like a tall, dark, and handsome ladder. And once he did the shot, he walked away like he’d been unaffected while I stood there, staring at his back.” She shook her head, boot largely forgotten, lost in the recollection. “Something came over me. That’s the only way I know to explain it. All I could think was Mine. I had to kiss him right then, just like I needed to breathe or my heart needed to beat. So I did.”
“That was crazy, Kiki,” she said, trying not to sound judgmental. “You should have heard his brother. What a fucking jackhole. He didn’t seem too keen on the prospect of you being in close proximity to Owen.” She took a drink before she accidentally let loose the details of what he’d said about Kiki.
“He doesn’t even know me.” Kiki pouted.
Kat leaned against the counter and stretched her neck. “It doesn’t matter anyway. It’s not like we’ll ever see them again.”
Kiki popped off her boot, dropping it with a thunk. “You don’t know that. Maybe we will,” she added hopefully.
Kat found herself scowling. “I don’t know how you could even consider seeing anyone after Eric. It’s way too soon.”
She stiffened, moving on to her other boot. “It’s not too soon. We’re starting over, right? Plus, just because I have a terrible track record doesn’t mean I can’t find a good guy, does it?” The other boot clunked to the floor in echo of the first.
“Saying you have a terrible track record is like saying Hannibal Lecter just hosted bad dinner parties.” Kat crossed her arms. “How do you even know he’s a good guy?”
She shrugged, starry-eyed. “I just have a feeling.”
“Because that’s served you so well in the past.”
“No comment.” Kiki wiggled her liberated toes and walked over to lean on the bar, changing the subject. “So what was the deal with Dillon? One minute you were eye-fucking and the next you turned into The Bickersons.”