6 Chapter 6

Riley checked her phone again and frowned. Weird. Scott had left for the washroom ten minutes ago and had yet to return. She took a quick sip of her mojito and glanced around the crowded Mexican restaurant. She nearly choked when she caught sight of Roman Valdez, Soloman's shadow and bodyguard, leaning against the bar watching her. Motherfucker. Well that explained what happened to her date. Roman's lips twitched in amusement and his finger stabbed the air as their eyes clashed. He was marking her for the boss.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Time to go!

In a rush of movement, Riley shoved her chair back and reached for her black, silver-spiked clutch purse. She stood up on her three-inch stiletto ankle boots and took one step away from the table. A body blocked hers. With a gasp of trepidation, she looked up, knowing exactly who was trapping her against the table. Soloman Hart placed one hand on the back of her chair and one on the table and leaned into her, forcing her to either sit back down or let their chests collide.

Her ass hit the chair hard enough that her tight black mini skirt slid up her thighs a few extra inches. His eyes dropped to follow the smooth, creamy length of her long legs from her ankle boots to the edge of her skirt. Her cherry red blouse was deceptively modest in the front, reaching up her neck in a high halter, but leaving her back completely bare to show the angel tattoo that spread from her shoulder blades all the way down her spine.

"Going somewhere?" he asked, his voice deceptively quiet. He took the seat opposite her, stretching his arm around the back of her chair so she couldn't leave.

She dug her nails into her thighs and stared daggers at him. "What did you do to Scott?" she demanded angrily.

He flashed her a tight-lipped feral smile, his teeth flashing white against his lips for just a second. She got the feeling he didn't often smile. The air of menace surrounding this man was almost a living thing. His tanned skin and dark hair gave him such a sinister look, it was a wonder anyone would do business with him. She shivered in her seat and took a quick sip of her drink, looking for some liquid courage as she faced off with him.

When she set her drink back down, he picked it up. Lifting it to his lips, he drank deeply, draining the contents while watching her closely. He placed the glass back on the table and said quietly, "I simply instructed him to look elsewhere for female companionship from now on. That you are taken. He understood."

"Fuck that!" Riley snarled, narrowing her eyes at him.

He shrugged negligently. "He needed a little convincing. The little fucker clearly thought he was getting laid tonight and wasn't willing to let go of the idea easily." He shook his head and allowed his eyes to roam her curves. "Not that I blame him, but you shouldn't play with men outside our circles, Riley. He had no idea who I was. I had to explain."

She went white and swayed in her seat. "Oh my god. What did you do to him?"

His eyes pierced hers. "He'll live."

She pressed her fingers against her lips and took a quick breath, her stomach dipping sharply. God, she hoped Scott was going to be okay. Soloman reached out and took her hand, removing her fingers from her lips. He placed them on the table and traced the delicate bones and veins through her skin, marvelling at how soft her hand was, despite her work as a mechanic. She tried to pull away, but he captured her hand in a hard grip.

"Don't play that particular game with me again, Riley," he said, his voice hard. "The next guy won't be so lucky."

She nodded in agreement. She wouldn't risk anyone else while Soloman was in the picture. He was right, it was too dangerous. This was her fight. She stared at his hand as it claimed hers. The ink on the back drew her eyes. The tattoo was so complex, so brutal. His was a hand that could do so much damage. The thought of that hand caressing her, after he'd used it to do god knows what to her date, terrified her on a primitive, instinctual level.

Two plates of heaping burritos, rice and fried beans with a side of chips and salsa arrived at the table. She used the food as an excuse to tug her hand away from his and back into the safety of her own lap. Riley and Scott hadn't ordered any food so Soloman must've taken the liberty. Riley crossed her arms over her chest and raised an eyebrow at him.

"You don't seriously think I'll eat with you?" she asked incredulously.

His lip quirked and he reached for a napkin. Before she realized what he was doing, he smoothed it over her lap before doing the same for himself. "Yes, I do," he answered easily, picking up his knife and fork.

"Fuck this," she snapped, tossing her napkin on the table and shoving her plate a few inches away. "You can scare off my date, but you can't force feed me in the middle of a busy restaurant."

His shoulders stiffened and he glanced at her from beneath thick eyebrows, giving her a look that clearly said he could force feed her if that were his intention. She bit her lip and tried her hardest to maintain a glare, knowing she was probably failing.

"Eat," he commanded.

She crossed her legs and looked away from him, refusing to pick up her fork. Unfortunately, her gaze clashed with Roman's, who was watching them from across the restaurant with amusement. She checked the urge to stick her tongue out at the shady asshole and dropped her eyes.

Soloman sighed heavily and rolled his shoulders under his suit jacket. Leaning back in his seat, he eyed her. After a moment, he said, "I'm trying to keep this pleasant, Riley. You really don't want to play rough with me."

"Yeah?" she snapped, tossing him a haughty glare. "Then maybe you shouldn't have threatened my date, huh? Excuse me if I don't find it appetizing to break bread, so to speak, with a man that has to bully me into a date."

His fist came down on the table, causing her to jump and nearby patrons to glance toward them. Riley uncrossed her arms and looked down at her lap, unable to bring herself to look at the sinister visage of the man after she'd finally pushed him to snap. She could feel the tension rolling off him as he struggled not to grab her. This was a man unused to be denied the things he wanted.

"Be careful, little girl. You don't want to fuck with me," he said from between gritted teeth.

Fuck it. In for a penny, in for a pound. Riley leaned across the table and let him see every ounce of annoyance she was feeling. "Actually, I really do. You've been pissing me off from word go, Hart. It gives me immense pleasure to fuck with you," she hissed in his face.