Rough & Tumble (The Haven Brotherhood) Read online

  His phone vibrated in his pants pocket, and the simmering burn he’d nursed since learning the last-minute change in venue jumped an extra notch. Axel’s name registered on the display. “Where the hell are you?”

  “Christ, you sound like my ma when she’s just home from getting her hair done.” Wind and the throaty rumble of Axel’s Shelby Cobra droned in the background. “What’s got your panties in a twist? Oh, wait. Let me guess. You actually peeled yourself out of those damned jeans and bothered to get gussied up to close your big deal, only it’s rubbin’ your delicate skin all wrong.”

  “Fuck you, McKee.” Actually, Axel wasn’t wrong on that score. While the black tailored pants and white button-down weren’t uncomfortable, he always felt like an imposter dressed for the white-collar world.

  “Got a bad feeling about this deal,” Jace said. “Charlie’s been hounding me for months to work a project he and his buddies could buy into, but the last two weeks he’s gone radio silence. Only time I heard from him was today when he had me switch our meet from the club to some bar in Arlington that’s nose-diving for bankruptcy.”

  “Stop bein’ a fuckin’ pessimist. I know how much this deal means to you, but Charlie’s a good man. Worked his way up the same as us.”

  “He might’ve come from the same side of the tracks, but he’s sure as hell distanced himself from it.”

  His pretty little elf of a waitress dared to look away from the muted rerun of one of those Housewives shows.

  Jace motioned her over.

  No sooner had she pushed away from the bar, Charlie strode through the door.

  “Gotta go, our man’s here,” Jace said. “You gonna make it?”

  “Need another twenty. Try not to fire that nasty temper you’ve been nursing the last few days on the poor man before I get there.”

  Jace ended the call, pried himself out of his too-stiff black leather chair, and tucked the phone in his pocket. He offered his hand to Charlie. “Thought you weren’t going to make it.”

  “Yeah, been a crazy few weeks.” He shook Jace’s hand and darted glances over each shoulder.

  Maybe Axel was right and Jace was imagining things. Charlie worked hard, and the pale blue button-down paired with gray pants made it look like he’d come straight from the office.

  Jace waved Charlie into one of the two chairs next to him as the waitress sauntered up. “Charlie, what’ll you have?”

  “Just a vodka tonic for me.”

  Jace handed her the barely touched drink she’d brought him the first time around. “Let’s give the Macallan another go, but this time I’d like the real deal instead of a well drink.”

  The waitress accepted the glass and shuttled a confused look between him and the bartender.

  “Not your fault, sugar. Just tell them anyone who orders Macallan is gonna know the difference, and try to keep an eye on them when they pull that shit in the future. Management might earn an extra buck sneaking in cheap stuff, but you’ll be the one who pays for it in tips.” He laid a business card on her tray. “If this gig dries up, call Shelly at that number. She’ll teach you the stuff they’re not giving you here, so long as you’re willing to learn.”

  The girl fingered the corner of the card a second, picked it up, and tucked it in her pocket. “Do I have to wait until this place dries up?”

  Funny how telling her wording was. Even the waitress realized they were headed nowhere whether she’d consciously acknowledged it or not. “Whenever works for you.”

  She nearly skipped away, leaving the two men alone.

  “Sorry for the last-minute change. I, uh—” Charlie leaned back and checked the window behind Jace. “I ran into a few problems.”

  “Thought the life of a stock trader was getting a little easier with the market headed up.”

  “The stocks are fine. It’s the men involved with your venture I’m having problems with.”

  And Axel called him a pessimist. More like a businessman with a damned fine instinct. “What kind of problems?”

  Charlie hesitated, scanning the club’s main entrance. “We’re getting a lot of pressure. Out of the five guys partnered for your investment, four of us have been told we’ll lose big on other deals if we go through with yours.”

  Just breathe. Stay focused and keep your expression neutral. The rescheduled location at a no-name bar, Charlie’s late arrival, the way he kept scouting the club—it all made sense.

  Jace kept his fists unclenched. Barely. “I don’t suppose this pressure’s originating from one of Dallas’s esteemed councilmen. Maybe one running for a House of Representatives seat?”

  Charlie sat back in his chair, obviously stunned. “Did one of the other guys call you?”

  “No need. Renner and I go way back. Went to school together at UNLV. Though we didn’t exactly run in the same crowds.”

  “Well, he’s got a pretty serious grudge where you’re concerned. Enough he’s pulling strings that’ll hurt a lot of the men in this deal if you’re anywhere on the contracts.”

  The waitress hustled back with their drinks, a whole different spring in her step the second time around. “Here you go. And I watched him this time like you said.”

  “Good girl.” Jace handed her a twenty and she spun away with a sunshine grin.

  “Look, Jace. I’m really sorry, but we just can’t—”

  “Do you want this deal?” Jace said.

  “Of course, I want this deal. We all do. With the land you’ve got cornered, and the tenants already lined up, it’s a slam dunk. But not at the cost of other business already in place.”

  Damn it to hell, he’d picked this group of men because they had fucking strong enough spines they’d be willing to do business with him publicly. Just once he’d like one of his non-entertainment ventures to have his name on it instead of one of the shell corps that hid his identity. Heaven forbid any upstanding citizens had their names tied to the redneck sin king.

  “You don’t have to lose the deal.” Jace dug in his pocket for a toothpick and popped it in his mouth. “I’ve got a few shell corporations already set up. Spread the word around you broke the deal, give it a little time to settle, then we’ll restart the venture with a whole new partner.”

  “What’s to keep Renner from finding out the shell corp is yours?”

  “You see me losin’ money anywhere else?” Jace twisted the toothpick between his fingers. “Been getting around uptight assholes like Paul my whole life. He won’t find this one any more than he’s found the others.”

  Charlie sipped his vodka tonic then rested it on the armrest.

  Jace leaned in and propped his elbows on his knees. “You don’t like that son of a bitch any more than anyone else. Take the deal I’m offering you and know it’ll make you a solid profit in the end. Not to mention you’ll slide one past Renner in the process. That alone makes it worth it.”

  For long, quiet seconds, Charlie studied his cocktail. He tossed back what was left of the drink and set it on the brushed steel table. “Yeah, let’s do it. I’ll talk to the rest of the men and make sure they’re on board, but I want this deal to go through, and I want it with you.”

  “All right then.” Jace stood and held out his hand. “Now get the hell out of here before you’re caught cavorting with the evil underbelly of society.”

  Charlie shook his hand. “It’s not like that. Not with me.”

  “I know it’s not or I never would have put this deal together with you. Renner’s a dick. I know it better than most. I’m the last person who’s gonna judge a guy for keeping his ledger in the black.”

  A few platitudes and five minutes later, Jace stared out the windowed wall at the taillights clogged up on the highway in the distance. Hard to tell what pissed him off more. Another failed attempt to have his name front and center on a profitable venture, or the self-imposed
distance he’d kept from Vivienne the last two days.

  Axel’s boisterous voice echoed through the isolated corner of the bar. “He didn’t show?”

  Jace tossed his mangled toothpick to the tabletop and swirled his Scotch. “Already been here and gone.”

  “You’re shittin’ me. It’s only been twenty minutes.”

  “Doesn’t take long to share bad news.”

  Axel dropped into the seat Charlie had vacated, his standard pants and sweater combination paired with one of those messy knots on the top of his head the women loved to fawn over. “What happened?”

  “Paul Renner. Seems he’s put pressure on most of the men involved either directly or indirectly. If I’m involved, he’ll pull strings elsewhere and hurt existing bottom lines.”

  “Fucking knobdobber. Charlie and his guys bail on the deal?”

  “Almost. I told Charlie we’d switch to a shell corp so Paul can’t track who’s involved.”

  The flash of pity on Axel’s face lanced straight through Jace’s gut. “I’m sorry, brother. I know you wanted this one.”

  Jace shrugged and sipped his drink. “Business is business. Either way, I’ll make a boatload.” Though he’d have enjoyed the income a whole lot more if he could publicly lay his name to it. “What the hell took you so long?”

  “Your dark-haired beauty. The woman’s got a mind like a trap when it comes to logistics. I think my dick turned to stone when she started rattling off demands to your secretary.”

  “Your dick and Vivienne in the same sentence isn’t improving my mood.”

  Axel dragged his forefinger back and forth through his beard. “You’re awfully protective of this one. And throwing around an awful lot in the way of good deeds. Way more than needed for a piece of ass.”

  “That’s because she’s not a piece of ass.” The retort snipped out harsher than he intended, fueled by the nearly nonstop beating he’d given himself ever since he’d left Vivienne’s townhouse. The fact that she’d assumed he wanted sex in exchange for time with him still rubbed him all kinds of wrong. Hell, yeah, he wanted leverage where getting closer to her was concerned. But if she gave herself to him, he wanted it to happen because she was as on fire as he was, and damn sure not out of obligation.

  “I like her spunk,” Jace said when he’d finally wrangled his emotion. “She’s got a dream but hasn’t found a way to make it stick yet. I’m just giving her a boost and havin’ her back. Everyone deserves a chance to prove themselves.”

  “You’re treatin’ her like a brother.”

  Jace froze with his drink halfway to his mouth. “Come again?”

  “You heard me. If you didn’t trust her, you’d have your bloody hands on every detail. Instead you’re loadin’ her up with every kind of opportunity and padding her sails. Same as you would a brother.”

  The Scotch burned down his throat. A proud, almost stubborn part of him demanded he put Axel in his place and deny any such thing. Another, far wiser, part of him sat stunned with realization.

  “Remember our agreement,” Axel said. “There’s too much at risk for the brotherhood in bringin’ any woman close who’s not meant to be one of the clan. One wrong piece of information and she could unravel all we’ve built. Not to mention weaken our group.” He leaned in, elbows on his knees and hands clasped between them. “Is she worthy of Haven?”

  Was she? Hell, he couldn’t even get past comprehending how deeply he’d gotten involved with Viv, let alone gauge the kind of longevity Axel suggested. Though if he was honest, there was definitely a protectiveness he’d never experienced with anyone outside of his and Axel’s mothers. And even then, what he felt for Viv was unique. Almost instinctive and animalistic. “I don’t know what she is to me.”

  “Then you might want to figure that out before you get much deeper. For her sake as well as yours.” He motioned toward Jace’s face with his glass. “I was with you when you got that pretty scar on your face, and I’ll be with you ’til I’m not breathin’ anymore, but the rest of the brothers won’t take kindly to you putting their secrets at risk without their blessing.”

  “I’ll figure it out. Then I’ll tackle what needs to happen like I always do.”

  Axel smirked and chortled. “Mayhap you need to tackle the lass first and take the bloody edge off your temper. If you don’t get relief soon, you’re liable to do something stupid and land us a whole new mess of PR troubles.”

  Oh, he’d get relief. Just a little over twelve more hours and he’d be at Vivienne’s front door and ready to teach the self-restrained minx how to relax. And maybe let his wild side out for a little fun, too.

  Chapter 9

  What the hell kind of shoes went with jeans, a tank and flannel shirt on a midsixty degree day in January? Viv traded her Toms for a worn pair of Sperry Top-Siders, then kicked those off just as fast as every other set she’d tried on. Her cute little combat boots with the zipper sides and lace-up fronts looked the best with the black and cobalt blue plaid, but given she had no clue where they were headed, they might set all the wrong look.

  Pipes from yet another biker out taking advantage of the unseasonably warm weather rumbled down the street.

  Ruger whined and took off downstairs.

  Huffing at his abandonment, Viv made another pass through her closet. Shoes were something she held onto far longer than was healthy, so there had to be something that hit middle ground in at least one of the boxes. She sure as heck wasn’t backtracking and changing her outfit. Just talking herself into wearing the jeans had taken thirty minutes.

  Three sharp raps sounded on the front door, and Ruger answered with an earsplitting round of barks.

  Leaving her shoe disaster behind, Viv hurried down the stairs, wedged her way past Ruger’s waggling body, and opened the door.

  Her over-exuberant dog darted past her and went straight for Jace, who crouched down and greeted him like a long-lost friend.

  It was the damnedest thing. She’d never seen Ruger take to a person so quickly, particularly not a man. “Sorry. He doesn’t normally get this excited.”

  “Hope not. I’d rather he bite first and ask questions later where you’re concerned.” Jace gave Ruger one last scratch behind the ears and straightened, his leather jacket open to show a soft white T-shirt underneath. His hair was pulled back in a low ponytail, and his aviator shades made his tan even more pronounced than normal.

  He slid the glasses off and took his time raking her with a slow, smoldering perusal and backing her out of the entry with a prowling gait. He shut the door behind him with barely a backward glance and laid another jacket on the hallway side table. “You wore the jeans.”

  “You asked me to.”

  Still stalking her, he nodded at her bare feet. “You’re missing shoes again.”

  Out of hallway, Viv stopped and held her ground. “I wasn’t sure what would be appropriate.”

  Jace wrapped her up, his big hands sliding between her flannel shirt and tank top until they splayed at the small of her back and shoulder blades. “Nothin’ sexier than a curvy woman in a soft pair of jeans with bare feet.” His lips hovered close to hers, the soft brush of his goatee making her mouth part on a sigh. “Makes a man want to get her in bed and kiss her to the point he can peel those jeans right off.”

  Man, he had killer lips. And with his hard body pressed against her and his fresh clean scent overtaking her lungs, it was a wonder she didn’t just give in and taste them. “I’d planned to keep them on, so maybe it’s better if you skip the kissing.”

  He smirked and pulled in a slow, sexy breath. “Postpone, maybe. If I kiss you now, we’ll never leave, but no way in hell I’m skipping it.” He stepped away, and every part of her from the neck down lined up to file a protest. “You got boots?”

  Boots. Her mind scrambled, snatched his words from the recycle bin, and rewound. Foot
wear. She needed shoes. “Yes.”

  He grinned in a way that said he hadn’t missed her mental lapse, and tucked a toothpick in his mouth. “Grab ’em and let’s go.”

  Heart pounding, she jogged up the stairs with as much casual attitude as she could muster. A fine sweat coated the back of her neck, and she’d swear her cheeks were bright enough to give Rudolph’s nose a run for its money. She’d need at least five minutes in front of a fan before she could face him again.

  She stepped into her boots and zipped them up, then made one last stop in front of the mirror. There wouldn’t be any fashion awards in her immediate future, but Jace wasn’t exactly dressed to impress either.

  Okay, that was a lie. He might not grace the cover of GQ anytime soon, but he impressed the hell out of her. Then again, he could probably do that naked.

  The image of his bare torso and the tattoo she’d glimpsed at The Den flared in high definition in her mind. Oh, yeah. Dressed, or naked, he gave her body one heck of a wake-up call. A fact she’d be smart to remember and keep her wits alert. Going out today was one thing. Going beyond that wasn’t such a great idea. She’d go, have a good time and enjoy herself like she promised, but that was it.

  Two steps outside her bedroom she halted.

  The door to her special room stood open. Sprawled across the bed’s rich eggplant-colored comforter, Jace had his hands tucked behind his head, eyes trained on the gauzy fabric overhead while his tongue worked his toothpick in a dizzying swirl. God, he looked good in there. Too good. Perfectly at home.

  “The door was closed,” Viv said.

  Jace’s gaze slid to her, that devious grin he seemed to specialize in making him look like a pleasure devil on a mission to torment. “Never could pass up a closed door. Makes me want to nose around until I learn what’s inside.” He scanned the random artwork hung in haphazard patterns on the far wall, mostly pencil sketches and tattoo designs she’d collected over the years. “It’s a great room. Not sure why you isolate so much of yourself to one space.”