She would bet big money Jack had sworn her brother-in-law into silence under threat of severe torture and beheading.
“James values his balls. It’ll be five minutes. Wait for me in the truck,” he ordered and got out.
Yeah, right. In his dreams.
Elle wasn’t letting the chance pass her by.
She tried the door. Surprise, surprise, it was unlocked. Not her fault if Jack still lived in la-la land and thought that she was obeying him.
As soon as he disappeared from sight, Elle sprinted to the bouncer, who let her in right away.
It took her a second for her eyes to become accustomed to the darkness. V-2 was much bigger than it seemed outside. A watering hole with loud music and even louder patrons, rather popular by the looks of it.
She spotted Jack talking with a man behind the bar, so she moved in the opposite direction, meshing with the crowd. Hopefully that would buy her enough time to snoop around.
“First visit, right?”
She looked into the direction those words had come from and saw a big guy. Her kind of guy: leather pants, muscle shirt, long hair, sexy beard, tattoos up his arms. Thick rings on his fingers. A bike probably waiting outside.
She nodded.
“I figured. A face like yours, I would have remembered. Can I buy you a drink?”
“Thanks, but I don’t have that kind of time.”
She turned around and crashed into a big chest.
“What the fuck are you doing here? I told you to wait in the truck.”
Jack’s voice. Jack’s chest.
Damn, that had been fast.
She lifted her gaze to find his eyes spitting fire. He was pissed.
“What part of ‘wait for me in the truck’ is unclear to you?”
So many things were wrong with that question and his tone, she didn’t know where to start. As she was thinking what to tackle first, she heard a high-pitched squeal.
“Jack!”
A gorgeous woman with red hair, smoky eyes, and long legs came running and threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around him, and began showering him with kisses.
Jack hugged her too, a big smile on his face. “Hi, baby girl. I see you’re happy to see me.”
The breath Elle was taking froze in her lungs.
“You kidding? I missed you like hell,” the woman said in between kisses and hugs, clinging to him as if she were a monkey while Jack chuckled and returned the embrace.
Elle staggered back. That was why she was supposed to stay outside, to keep her from meeting Jack’s other squeeze.
“When are you coming home?” the redhead asked, pouting cutely and smoothing his shirt. “I’m so lonely without you.”
Chapter Eleven
When are you coming home? I’m lonely without you.
Elle hadn’t caught his answer, but he’d snorted at the redhead and said something, his tone light and playful, that made her laugh.
She shook her head, trying to wrap her mind around what was going on in front of her damn eyes.
Jack had a woman. Not just a woman, but a frigging sexpot. Feeling sucker punched, Elle took a step back, bumping into the biker dude.
Her throat was dry, but she forced the words out. “Who’s she?”
“Veronica Copeland. Owner of this joint. Wildest cat this side of Boston, which makes Jack Copeland the most envied and feared man this side of Boston.”
Oh. God. Jack was married? And to a sex bomb whom he called baby girl?
Numbness and disbelief transformed into fury, Elle’s blood boiling up in a nanosecond.
She dashed to him and punched him on his arm. “You asshole. How dare you?”
“Who’s this?” the redhead asked.
Elle ignored the woman and yelled in his face. “All that shit about searching for an Amish wife and you’re already married?”
Kudos to him, he even managed to look surprised. “What?”
The redhead lifted her eyebrows. “You’re searching for an Amish wife? When were you going to tell me?”
“Yeah, baby girl,” Elle continued, putting emphasis on baby girl, “and for your information, he isn’t home with you because he’s at my place, busy screwing me!”
Baby girl turned to Jack, her eyes big as plates. “You’re busy screwing her?”
“Not discussing that,” Jack answered and addressed Elle. “What do you think is going on here?”
God, would he still have the balls to deny what she just saw with her own eyes? “So you were not smooching with this…bombshell?”
“Aw, thanks. You kick ass too.” The bombshell stuck her hand out to Elle. “Nice to meet you. You’re the first person he’s busy screwing whom I get to meet. Very exciting.”
“Ronnie,” Jack growled.
Elle couldn’t believe her ears. This Ronnie was nuts. “This doesn’t bother you?”
She pondered for a second. “I must admit I’m a bit grossed out, but I’ll live.”
Drunk. The bombshell was drunk. Or high. Heck, drunk and high. Or they had a very liberal marriage. Amish wife, her ass.
“Veronica, you are not helping,” Jack said in a warning tone Elle knew far too well. It infuriated her even more.