Can't Hardly Breathe (The Original Heartbreakers #4)

“Ryanne isn’t always aware of her surroundings,” he replied, flicking her a cool glance. “She’s usually too busy flirting with customers.”

She puckered those red, red lips and fluffed her glorious fall of hair. “If I convince just one more man to spend big buck on penny beer, I can finally buy that golden bi-deet I’ve been wanting. Fingers crossed!”

Brock snorted at her purposeful mispronunciation of bidet. “What are you doing here, anyway, my man? I thought you were staying home tonight.”

“Changed my mind.” More and more, he’d had trouble staying away from the Scratching Post, knowing Dushku could strike at Ryanne at any moment. “LPH will be taking over security here.”

“Well, it’s about time,” Daniel said with a nod.

Ryanne batted her lashes at Jude. “Can I get you another water with lemon, Mr. Laurent?” Her voice was sugar sweet but also as mean as a rattler.

“And let you charge me another two fifty for roughly five seconds of your time?” He shook his head. “By the way. At your rates, I’ll owe you nine thousand dollars for an hour of your time tomorrow.”

She winked at him, sensual, erotic—so beautiful it hurt to look at her. “Trust me. I’m worth that and more.”

Raising an empty bottle, Brock told her, “Before you guys go and drag me into this odd little mating dance, I’ll have another beer. Please and thank you.”

Jude bit his tongue in order to remain silent, annoyed by both the comment and the request. Mating dance? Hell, no. He and Ryanne argued, that was it. And though he’d never asked his friends to give up alcohol, he’d wanted to, which made him hate himself a little more. Their pasts were as painful as his own, and they needed an outlet.

“Daniel?” Ryanne asked. “Another ginger ale, handsome?”

Handsome?

“Yes, please,” Daniel replied with grin. “I’m Brock’s designated driver tonight.”

“Well, then, I’ll make sure your sacrifice is rewarded and add a cherry and a lime wedge free of charge.” Slowly, languidly, her attention slid to Jude. “You see anything you want, Mr. Laurent?”

Another clench of muscle low in his gut. “No, thanks. I’m good.”

“Oh, sugar. I’d bet my unmentionables that you’re very, very bad.” Hooded gaze locked on him, she leaned over to flatten her hand on his shoulder, and he had to hide a jolt of surprise. The warmth of her skin burned through his shirt, the scent of fresh strawberries and cream enveloping him. Made him think of strawberry shortcake, and his mouth watered.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he demanded.

“Don’t think. Know. I’m wondering why you look so hungry. Positively ravenous.”

He stiffened in places he shouldn’t. Had she just insinuated that he hungered for her?

He didn’t. He wouldn’t.

She winked at him, all coy femininity and smoky charm—and he did hunger, shit, he did. “Stay right there. I’m going to satisfy your appetite,” she said with another wink, and off she went, those hips swaying with even more vigor.

His hands curled into fists.

Brock whistled under his breath as he watched her go. “That is one mighty fine woman.”

Of course he’d think so. She was his type. The kind of female who would tick off his parents.

Teeth gnashing again...

Don’t care who my friend wants to nail.

“She’s a trooper,” Daniel said with a sly glance at Jude. “We’re in a tri-city, right? Between Strawberry Valley, Blueberry Hill and Grapevine. In all three towns, her mother was known as the get-around girl. Remarried a couple times, but in-between marriages she stole the husbands of other women. Even slept with one or two of Ryanne’s high school boyfriends.”

Having done his homework, Jude knew a lot of people disdained Ryanne for her mother’s behavior, and he sympathized. His own mother had been the town pariah back in Midland. Poor as dirt, so desperate to keep her family farm going, she sold herself to any man willing to help her.

But Daniel wasn’t done. “When Ryanne moved in with one of her former stepdads, hot damn. Even the residents of Strawberry Valley went crazy. Earl Hernandez used to own this bar, and Ryanne was seventeen, I think, maybe eighteen. Countless people called her a slut and a whore. Parents forbid their children from spending time with her, fearing she was just like her momma. Fact was, she’d moved in to care for the guy. He had cancer.”

Yeah. Jude knew that, too. Damned if you do, damned if you don’t.

Not that he would allow Ryanne’s past to matter to him. He would keep his eye on the prize: her survival.

He’d already briefed the guys about Dushku’s move to town, so he used their minutes alone to explain his plan for camera placement inside and outside the bar, with twenty-four-hour monitoring. A necessary component considering Ryanne lived upstairs.

“The Scratching Post falls into Blueberry Hill jurisdiction, so we shouldn’t involve the cops just yet,” he added. “There’s serious bias against Ryanne, Dorothea and Lyndie. Lyndie was married to the former chief, and Ryanne helped her leave him.”

“It’s true. I wasn’t here, but I remember my dad’s shock when the seemingly happy couple split,” Daniel said. “Apparently he was beating the shit out of her.”

Brock tensed, his hands balled, ready to strike. “Where is he now?” The words were laced with so much rage, Jude had no doubt Chief Carrington would be beaten to death if he walked through the door.

“Don’t know, and I’m not going to try and find out, because I have a feeling you’ll get yourself sent to prison,” Daniel said. “As for Dushku, we don’t want to stay on the defensive. We need to go on the offensive as soon as possible.”

Jude rubbed the back of his neck, unable to alleviate the tension there. “The Dushkus are merciless.”

“We put the fear of God in them now,” Brock said, “and we’ll save ourselves trouble later.”

Or start a war.

Who was he kidding? The war had already started.

“I’ll take care of this,” he said. He’d keep his friends—and their women—out of it.

“We’ll all take care of it,” Brock corrected. “Together.”

All for one, and one of all. The story of their lives. Even still, Jude would take the lead on this. When things got bad, and they would, he would be the sole target.

Wasn’t like he had anything to lose.

He said none of that, however. His friends would only argue. What they couldn’t do? Stop him.

Ryanne arrived with drinks, a bowl of popcorn with sesame-glazed pistachios, soft pretzel sticks with beer cheese fondue, and a plate of bacon-wrapped French fries. “We call this the One Night Stand. Expect an orgasm in your mouth. This is the Horizontal Tango, and this one is known as the Porking. If you’d like to add a plate of Thai-coconut chicken wings, which we refer to as the Boneyard, just let me know.” Smiling as Jude nearly choked on his tongue, she presented him a bill. “Enjoy,” she said with a wink.