Fire Line (The Griffith Brothers, #3)

by Maggie C. Gates

“Did you start it or finish it?” The woman grabbed it and pressed the ball of ice to her knuckles. “Finished it.”

She was hot. And crazy.

“Pick your poison. You win, and I’ll buy your next drink.”

“Sorry, cowboy. I play for money.” “Yeah?”

“Well, I play for keeps.” “Not ...

“I’m not from around here anyway.” “Neither am I.”

“Rack ’em up, cowboy.” “What makes you think I’m a cowboy?”

“You’re one ‘ma’am’ away from the big three.”

“The big three?”

“Cowboy boots. Cowboy hat.” “So, what’s the third?” “You haven’t called me ‘ma’am.’”

“Either trouble suits you or it follows you. I’m thinking both.”

“I can think of something else I’d like when I win.”

“You’re thinking with your dick.”

“I don’t know about you, but I’m playing to win.”

“You cold, sweetheart?”

“Trust me, cowboy. There’s nothing sweet about me.”

“That’s all right. I don’t have much of a sweet tooth.” I wedged my leg between her thighs. “When I eat out, it’s the main meal.”

Slowly, I slid the folded bills between her tits, but didn’t dare touch her skin. “I’m no gentleman.”

“Now, are you gonna get your own drink, kiss me,

or keep acting like you don’t know which one you want?” That fucking mouth . . .

“I’ll let you lead this dance, trouble. You tell me what you want, and I’ll give it to you like the gentleman you think I am.”

“Take me into that back hallway and I’ll tell you when to stop. I’m not opposed to giving you a ribbon for participation.”

She tipped the rocks glass against her collarbone. The last

rivulets of whiskey streamed down her breasts. “Lick it up, pretty boy.”

I fisted her hair at the base of her neck and yanked her head back, opening her neck. “Tha...

“You shouldn’t taste this good, trouble,” he growled.

“Whiskey and sass.” CJ sank his teeth into the side of my breast. “Can’t get enough of you.”

“I get the feeling a little pain doesn’t bother you,”

“Should’a known you’d think fighting was flirting.”

For a brief moment, I melted. And I couldn’t let that happen again.

“You gonna stand there all night telling me how I should flirt, or are you gonna fuck me? What’s that old saying? Spare some batteries, ride a cowboy.”

“I’m all for saving th...

“Don’t look so scared, trouble. I’ll take good care of you,”

“So wet already.”

“You needy tonight, Lennon?”

“You’re not taking me home, so you’d better wow me right here.” “Challenge accepted.”

“Eyes on me, Len. I’ve got you.”

CJ took off his cowboy hat and used it to shield my ass, covering the place where we were

connected from any unsuspecting eyes t...

“If this is my consolation prize for getting my ass handed to me at pool, I’d lose to you every day of my life.”

“You gonna come, cowboy?” CJ smirked. “You got the big three, but you missed the fourth.” “What’s that?” He tipped his head to the side and sucked my piercing between his teeth. “Ladies first.”

“Can I buy you one more drink?” he asked. The hint of reluctance in his voice told me he didn’t want to let the night end.

“Goodbye, cowboy.”

“Goodbye, Len.”

It’s what I had called her. Lennon—the woman I’d fucked in the hallway of the Silver Spur. Trouble.

I’d give my left nut to see her again, but she struck me as a tumbleweed. Not prone to sticking around.

“You’re sure the Griffiths know you hired a jailbird to run The Kitchen?”

“They’re good people. They want good people to work for them. You’re good people.”

There was safety in the fire. Fire was predictable. There was no pretense that it was anything other than dangerous. It behaved exactly as expected. If you fucked with it, that was your own damn fault.

But this time, I wouldn’t be flying back to New York with the sparse team from Nonna’s—the Manhattan eatery where I had just gotten my final paycheck. I’d be staying. This was home now.