“Move,” Daire said, his gaze on the woman.
The kid faltered and then moved on with a sigh of disappointment. Yeah, it sucked to be just a prospect and not a full club member.
Daire straddled the now unoccupied fifties-style stool. “Daire Dunne,” he said.
The woman lifted an eyebrow in a curiously confident way. “Cee Cee,” she said, her voice a husky whisper.
That tone licked down his skin and planted hard in his balls. Jesus. He leaned back and studied her. Enhanced. Definite tingles cascaded from her, not too strong, but with enough force to show she was probably an enhanced human female. Either an empath or a psychic, probably.
Which explained the instant attraction.
He nudged a tequila shot glass toward her and picked one up, waiting until she’d clanked hers with his. Her fingers were small and graceful with natural nails and no frills.
They tipped back the drink, and she kept his gaze, swallowing the brew without a hitch in her breath.
Most enhanced humans either didn’t realize they had special abilities, or ignored them, so he focused elsewhere. “How old are ya, Cee Cee?” he asked, pushing a second glass her way.
Amusement curved her lower lip. “Old enough. You?”
“Too old,” he answered honestly. He’d been undercover at the club for nearly two months, and so far, he hadn’t learned shit about the elusive drug he was tracking, a drug that harmed humans as well as his people. While he usually avoided the parties, he still kept an eye on participants. “I haven’t seen you here before.”
She nodded. “It’s my first time. I came with a friend.” She craned her neck, all grace, to look around the loud party. “I don’t see her, though.”
“A lot of the, ah, women who attend the parties end up in the back rooms,” he said quietly. The correct term was bitch, honeybun, or even skank, but his mama had taught him better.
She smiled. “That’s quite an accent you have there.”
“I’m from Dublin,” he said, quite enjoying her smile. “Our club merged with Titans of Fire, and I’m here for a bit.” As soon as he got all the information he could from the club leader, he was getting back home.
A fight broke out on the other side of the room, drunken members arguing about bike pipes, and Daire shifted his weight to put himself between the woman and danger.
She smiled, no concern entering her stunning eyes, even as the guys threw a series of punches until one careened over the stained bar to disappear on the other side. “Your patch says you’re an enforcer.”
“Aye.”
“Of what?” She leaned toward him, revealing more creamy cleavage.
His groin hardened instantly. Something about her, something graceful and out of place in the smoke-filled bar, kept his interest from where it should be—on his investigation for the witch nation. “Internal laws for Titans of Fire MC and whatever else needs to be enforced.”
She breathed out. “You believe that ends justify means?”
“Yes.” Unfortunately, in his line of work, he had to draw a line before any gray area. His words probably alarmed her, but he had to know more about her before she took off, as any smart woman would do. Intelligence shimmered in her eyes, so no doubt the lady had a brain. “What were you doing with the prospect?”
Her gaze dropped to the several full tequila shot glasses. “Drinking and arguing the merits of the United Nations.”
Daire lifted an eyebrow. “Your opinion?”
She twirled a full shot glass with delicate fingers. “Great in theory but with no bite. A governing authority needs teeth.”
Her emphasis on bite rioted more fire throughout him. “You like bite?”
Her eyelids lowered just enough to be unbelievably sexy. “Right place and right time, absolutely.” Without moving, she glanced around at the gyrating bodies on the dance floor, despite the lack of decent music. “Not here, however.”
Yeah. A woman like her didn’t belong in a place like this. “Wanna get out of here?”