Hector was bald, muscled, and had an arm sleeved with tattoos. He was friendly to guys, but ice-cold to women. Not in a g*y way, but in an I’m-too-violent-for-the-weaker-sex kind of way.
Dallas liked him. Only one thing kept him from recruiting the agent as his new best friend, but he wasn’t going to think about that now. He’d punch someone. Namely Hector.
The trainees were—shit, Dallas had forgotten their names. They were brothers, and both in their early twenties. One was blond (supposedly), handsome, and cocky as shit, and the other was blond, ugly, and mean as shit. They were—
Uh-oh. His problem with Hector had just walked into the bar. Looked like he’d be thinking about her, after all. Again.
Dallas Junior twitched.
Down, boy.
Noelle Tremain sauntered up to their table, tall, elegant, and pure rebellion. She wore a pair of skin-tight jeans, boots that hit her knees, and a top made from what could only be dental floss. Brown hair hung to her shoulders, straight as a pin, in a chic cut that looked tousled rather than subdued and had probably cost her a fortune. Her gray eyes were bright yet guarded. Playful yet unwelcoming. She picked her friends with care.
Rich as she was, she probably had to. Lots of people would have loved to use her. His body was one of them. Don’t think like that.
“I know I wasn’t officially invited,” she said in her smoker’s voice, earning another twitch, “but I was positive no one would mind if I joined.”
She nudged a place for herself between the Devyn-Bride tangle of limbs and one of the in-training brothers before anyone could tell her to get lost. Not that anyone would have dared to do so. Girl was unpredictable in her tempers. And violent. God, was she violent. The thing he liked about her, though, was that a man never had to wonder where he stood with her. You pissed her off, she’d tell you. Hard. Usually with her knee. There was no making you guess, and no crying—on her part, at least.
“Where’s Sans?” the handsome brother asked with a leering grin. “At home in bed?”
The ugly one punched him in the back of the head.
Noelle offered the speaker a deadly grin. “One day, Dear John, you’re gonna wake up, and your penis is gonna be resting on the pillow next to you. Not that you’ll notice its absence, small as it is.”
Dallas laughed, and yep, there was another twitch.
Now he remembered, though. The guy’s name was Johnny Deschanel. He’d slept with Ava at the beginning of training, and had bragged every day since. What a moron. Every man with sense knew you didn’t tell your coworkers when you dipped your wick in the company ink. Then you never got to dip again.
Why had Dallas invited him tonight? Stupid.
Noelle propped her elbows on the tabletop and peered expectantly at Bride. “So what do you know about Victor McKell?”
Bride flicked the length of her black hair over one shoulder, hitting Devyn in the face. At least the conversation forced the couple to stop the embarrassing PDA. “I’ll answer when my shock wears off. This is the first time a strange female has ever sat down and spoken to me rather than my boyfriend.”
“Husband. I’m your husband. And darling, we had the exact same reaction,” the Targon replied in his silky smooth voice. Everything about him was smooth, really. Dark hair, inhumanly ocher eyes. Pale, glittery skin that carried the sheen of crushed diamonds. “Only, I was silent from agony. Does she not recognize my brilliant beauty?”
“I recognized,” Noelle said dryly. “I just thought your wife was prettier.”
Every man at the table sat up straighter, suddenly straining to hear the rest of the conversation. Girl-on-girl action—hot. Too bad she didn’t mean it. Dallas knew Noelle was into men. Oh, did he know.
Sometimes he could predict the future. Images would flash through his mind, some changeable, but most set in stone. And a few weeks ago, he’d seen himself in bed with Noelle. Naked, sweaty. Sated.
That vision had been of the unchangeable variety.
On one hand, go team Dallas. On the other, a man should have a choice about who he slept with.
Yeah, Noelle was gorgeous, and yeah, she turned him on. Stupid twitching cock. But damn it, she was his friend’s cousin, and Dallas didn’t do his friends’ family members. Ever. That was the only rule he lived by. The only standard he’d set for his bed partners. And yeah, that meant he was easy.
But the worst part? The other reason he didn’t want to sleep with Noelle? He’d also had a vision of her in bed with Hector Dean. Not at the same time as him, just to be clear. But if both of them slept with her, they would hate each other. He knew that, too.
Dallas could share, no problem. He didn’t want to be tied down, and never had. But female-avoiding Hector? Sharing when he finally let his guard down? Laughable.
No question, Noelle was going to end their friendship.
Sad, really, since Hector was the last single man standing. The last friend Dallas had. Losing him was going to hurt like a son of a bitch.
His hands fisted on his chair arm as he studied Hector. The agent was watching Noelle, expression blank. No hint of attraction was evident. Still. Dallas sighed. If only that were true. The fact that Hector was looking at her at all said more than any emotion could have.
“So anyway,” Noelle continued. She curled her fingers around Bride’s beer and drained the contents. “You were telling me about McKell.”
A few masculine groans blended in a chorus of disappointment.
“I don’t know why I was doing that,” Bride said dryly. “I don’t know anything about him.”
Noelle arched a dark brow. “You were engaged to him.”
“Yeah, as a child. Then my memory was wiped clean, and I was sent to live here. We’ve chatted a few times, but I promise you, I know nothing about him.”
“And what she does know, she isn’t impressed by,” Devyn added firmly.
Bride just lifted her empty beer bottle and waved it under Devyn’s nose. “Be a good boy and fetch me another drink.”
She only drank red wine and blood, but Dallas knew she liked to blend in, so she was pretending to throw back a few cold ones.
Devyn’s mouth dipped into a pout. “Darling, I can’t. You know how jealous you get when every woman in the room watches my ass as I walk away from you. So, really, by refusing to help you, I’m doing you a favor.”
Bride rolled her eyes, clearly trying not to smile, and signaled a waitress.
Devyn placed his hand over his heart and met Dallas’s gaze. “No need to say it. I’m too good to her, I know.”