8

Later that evening Holly went up to the bar and ordered a shot of tequila. “Want a shot?”

“I don’t really drink.” Colt sat down on the barstool, resting his back against the bar. “Why do you like these dive bars?”

She shrugged. “It’s my type of people.”

“Bikers and thugs.” He rolled his eyes as he watched her.

She took her shot. “Exactly. Regular folk.”

“So… you like Motorhead?” Pointing at her shirt.

“Yep, one of my favorite bands. You?”

“Same. Few girls like them.” Colt looked her over, trying to not seem obvious he was checking her out.

Colt watched her sway to the song that was playing from the sound system. Every man in the bar had been watching her since she walked in the door. Some part of the other men gawking at her, Colt didn’t like. He felt himself staring down a few men when they walked in. Seeing how they were eyeballing her made his blood boil.

As much as Holly got under his skin, part of him felt a little like she was still someone he wanted to get to know better. He was a little possessive over things he thought to be his. Someplace deep in the back of his mind he was already laying claim. The voice of reason within was telling him to run far and fast, but he didn’t listen to that voice very often.

Her tight body glistening, from what he figured she had oiled up for the stage lights earlier in the night, were making her look even more tone and alluringly. Her tone abs and a tattoo up her side was sexy. Colt wasn’t much for tattoos on girls, but on her, it fit perfectly. It made her even more sexy, and it was becoming frustrating. Especially since he wanted to hate this woman so much. She was bossy, domineering, and fought him tooth and nail. His type had always been a passive girl. Not someone who gave him a challenge.

As she ordered a beer, his eyes rested on her breast. She was someone he would have seen himself with physically. If she weren’t such a hardass, and would be nicer, he might have even asked her on a date.

Holly looked over, seeing Colt licking his lips while looking over her body in deep thought. “Like what you see?” She stepped over closer to him, resting her hand on his chest.

“Matter of fact, I do.” He turned to face her and grabbed her hips. Moving her between his legs on the bar stool, he tilted her chin with his fingertips to meet his gaze. “Bad thing is your attitude seems to ruin it for me.”

“It’s not personal, Colt. It’s business. They paid me to do a job. One I am damn good at.” She put her arms over his shoulders, letting her hands dangle over. One hand massaged the back of his neck, giving Colt chills from the tender touch. “Too bad you hate me. We could have some real fun. You and I are a lot alike. Neither of us takes any shit.”

“We also both love a good fight, and that’s what gets you in trouble. The difference is, I keep it in the ring.” He pushed her back and got up. “I’m the alpha dog here, sweetheart. Faster you learn that the better it will be between us.”

He walked away to the restroom as she watched his tight jeans cup the curve of his perfect ass.

“I’ll be back. See if you can keep from getting in trouble while I’m gone.”

Holly just rolled her eyes and drank from her beer chaser. “Men.”

Damn, he was sexy. And his firm ass in those jeans as he walked away was doing something to her. As much as she just wanted to knock that smirk off his face. She also wanted to have her way with him every time he did it. No man had ever made her so infuriated and turned on at the same time.

A couple of men came up to her at the bar a few short minutes later. Reeking of booze and sweat, they attempted some fraction of what seemed to be a poor excuse for flirting. She drank a little, but never more than her two-drink limit and her beer would be the end for the night. She hated to be drunk and guys like this were why.

The first man was a blonde hipster-looking guy and the other was more of a rugged-looking man with tattoos and gaged ears. “Hey, sexy. You’re Holly Bordeaux, right?”

Holly tried to ignore them. “Yep.”

“We saw you at Psycho Circus. You did that fire-breathing thing you do on IWX. It’s cool.” Hipster tried to flatter her.

“Thanks.” She hoped they would catch on to the fact she was not interested in their advances by her short answers.

“So, we were thinking. Wanna have some fun? Go back to our hotel room?” The rougher-looking man slinked closer.

Colt was making his way back, seeing the men looming around Holly. A red flag that this could be trouble.

“No, thanks.” Holly tried to turn back to the bar to watch the game on the TV.

“Hey, bitch. I’m talking to you.” He grabbed Holly’s arm, spinning her around.

Colt rushed over when he saw the man grabbed her. Before he reached her, Holly grabbed the man in the same way she did Colt in the ring the first time they met. She shoved his head down to the bar with her free arm, grabbing an ice pick from the bartender’s ice bucket. Instantly she drove the ice pick through the hole of the man’s gaged ear, pinning his head to the bar. She pulled out a switchblade from her bra and flipped it open.

Turning to his friend, she scowled saying, “Back off, asshole, or you’re next!”

The man backed up with his hands in the air, as Colt made his way over. The man under her grip was struggling to pull the ice pick free.

“Hmm… so. What’s your name, princess?” She jerked on his gage. Everyone in the bar was watching in shock. No one dared to approach her.

“Brian.”

“Brian. What makes you think you have the right to come up to a woman in a bar and put your hands on her? I like your ear gages.” She rolled the switchblade around in her hand. “How about we make you another?”

She jammed the blade into the bar in front of his face, inches from his nose. His eyes went wide, seeing how close she had come with the knife.

The man cried, “Don’t hurt me. Please? You’re crazy.”

“Holly, let him go.” Colt put his hand on her shoulder.

She looked over, seeing Colt with kind brown eyes looking down at her.

“He’s had enough.”

Holly grinned and backed up, grabbing her knife. She turned back to his friend, who backed away.

Colt slowly took the knife from her and led her out of the bar. The man with the ice pick through his ear gauge still crying like a baby.