Jacked Up (Bowen Boys #4) (17 page)

“I’m not against modern conveniences.”

“Your future Amish wife will. Never been in one, but considering your size, good luck surviving a buggy ride. On the plus side, it will be your speed.”

A smile flashed across his face. “I never said I want an Amish wife. I said I want a woman whose priority would be her family. I don’t have anything against her working.”

“As long as she’s devoted to you and satisfied with that kind of life.”

“I plan to be devoted to her too. And keep her plenty satisfied.”

“Keep her chained to the foot of your bed, you mean.” Pregnant and barefoot too.

He turned to her, his expression intense. “However I have her in the bed, tied or otherwise, I can fucking guarantee she’ll be satisfied.”

That last part she believed. She could still feel him inside her, making her come like crazy. But she wasn’t about to admit that. “So, where are we going?” she asked, attempting to distract herself.

“I need to check some things at V-2.”

“V-2?”

“My bar.”

Oh hell, yes!

The bar she had been dying to check out for ages.

“Okay, if you must.” She tried playing it cool, afraid he would change his mind and drop her off home first. Then again, he’d been the one insisting they were attached at the hip. About time she got to enjoy the perks.

After driving for a while, Jack parked in front of a bar on the outskirts of Boston, a humongous row of bikes by the front door.

“So here it is, your famous place,” she said. “James never told me the name.”

She would bet big money Jack had sworn her brother-in-law into silence under threat of severe torture and beheading.

“James values his balls. It’ll be five minutes. Wait for me in the truck,” he ordered and got out.

Yeah, right. In his dreams.

Elle wasn’t letting the chance pass her by.

She tried the door. Surprise, surprise, it was unlocked. Not her fault if Jack still lived in la-la land and thought that she was obeying him.

As soon as he disappeared from sight, Elle sprinted to the bouncer, who let her in right away.

It took her a second for her eyes to become accustomed to the darkness. V-2 was much bigger than it seemed outside. A watering hole with loud music and even louder patrons, rather popular by the looks of it.

She spotted Jack talking with a man behind the bar, so she moved in the opposite direction, meshing with the crowd. Hopefully that would buy her enough time to snoop around.

“First visit, right?”

She looked into the direction those words had come from and saw a big guy. Her kind of guy: leather pants, muscle shirt, long hair, sexy beard, tattoos up his arms. Thick rings on his fingers. A bike probably waiting outside.

She nodded.

“I figured. A face like yours, I would have remembered. Can I buy you a drink?”

“Thanks, but I don’t have that kind of time.”

She turned around and crashed into a big chest.

“What the fuck are you doing here? I told you to wait in the truck.”

Jack’s voice. Jack’s chest.

Damn, that had been fast.

She lifted her gaze to find his eyes spitting fire. He was pissed.

“What part of ‘wait for me in the truck’ is unclear to you?”

So many things were wrong with that question and his tone, she didn’t know where to start. As she was thinking what to tackle first, she heard a high-pitched squeal.

“Jack!”

A gorgeous woman with red hair, smoky eyes, and long legs came running and threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around him, and began showering him with kisses.

Jack hugged her too, a big smile on his face. “Hi, baby girl. I see you’re happy to see me.”

The breath Elle was taking froze in her lungs.

“You kidding? I missed you like hell,” the woman said in between kisses and hugs, clinging to him as if she were a monkey while Jack chuckled and returned the embrace.

Elle staggered back. That was why she was supposed to stay outside, to keep her from meeting Jack’s other squeeze.

“When are you coming home?” the redhead asked, pouting cutely and smoothing his shirt. “I’m so lonely without you.”

Chapter Eleven

When are you coming home? I’m lonely without you.

Elle hadn’t caught his answer, but he’d snorted at the redhead and said something, his tone light and playful, that made her laugh.

She shook her head, trying to wrap her mind around what was going on in front of her damn eyes.

Jack had a woman. Not just a woman, but a frigging sexpot. Feeling sucker punched, Elle took a step back, bumping into the biker dude.

Her throat was dry, but she forced the words out. “Who’s she?”

“Veronica Copeland. Owner of this joint. Wildest cat this side of Boston, which makes Jack Copeland the most envied and feared man this side of Boston.”

Oh. God. Jack was married? And to a sex bomb whom he called baby girl?

Numbness and disbelief transformed into fury, Elle’s blood boiling up in a nanosecond.

She dashed to him and punched him on his arm. “You asshole. How dare you?”

“Who’s this?” the redhead asked.

Elle ignored the woman and yelled in his face. “All that shit about searching for an Amish wife and you’re already married?”

Kudos to him, he even managed to look surprised. “What?”

The redhead lifted her eyebrows. “You’re searching for an Amish wife? When were you going to tell me?”

“Yeah, baby girl,” Elle continued, putting emphasis on
baby girl
, “and for your information, he isn’t home with you because he’s at my place, busy screwing me!”

Baby girl turned to Jack, her eyes big as plates. “You’re busy screwing her?”

“Not discussing that,” Jack answered and addressed Elle. “What do you think is going on here?”

God, would he still have the balls to deny what she just saw with her own eyes? “So you were not smooching with this…bombshell?”

“Aw, thanks. You kick ass too.” The bombshell stuck her hand out to Elle. “Nice to meet you. You’re the first person he’s busy screwing whom I get to meet. Very exciting.”

“Ronnie,” Jack growled.

Elle couldn’t believe her ears. This Ronnie was nuts. “This doesn’t bother you?”

She pondered for a second. “I must admit I’m a bit grossed out, but I’ll live.”

Drunk. The bombshell was drunk. Or high. Heck, drunk
and
high. Or they had a very liberal marriage. Amish wife, her ass.

“Veronica, you are not helping,” Jack said in a warning tone Elle knew far too well. It infuriated her even more.

The redhead smirked. “And who says I want to help, hubby?”

“Enough. You,” Jack said to her, “go back to the office, where you’re supposed to be, not behind the bar serving drinks. And you,” he said to Elle, “go back to the truck. This is not the time or the place for this conversation.”

She punched him again but the ass didn’t budge an inch. “You don’t get to order me around. And this is the perfect time and place for this conversation.”

The bombshell leaned toward him and mumbled something that sounded very much like “I like her. And you don’t get to order me around either.”

His voice was calm. “Yes, I do get to order you around. Both of you. This is not what you think, pet.”

Pet. The balls of this man had to be cast iron.

“Don’t you even. And don’t pretend she isn’t your wife. He told me,” she said gesturing at the biker.

Jack zeroed on him and the big guy lifted his arms, taking a step back, shaking his head.

She stood on her tiptoes and jabbed at Jack’s chest, facing off. “I. Do. Not. Screw. Married. Men. ”

By now half the joint was staring at them, but she didn’t care.

“When we’re done,” Elle said, imitating his baritone, “you can go back to doing as you want, but until then I’m the only one who fucks you. Forgot to mention the little wife at home? Two-timing, two-faced
figlio di puttana
. You said you had no one, that no one was waiting for you.”

Veronica slapped him on the chest. “What do you mean you said you had no one? You didn’t tell her about me?”

Then something dawned on Elle. “Oh my God. You have kids too, don’t you? That’s why you said you had experience. And why you were so good with Jonah.”

“You mean with her?” Jack had the nerve to ask while pointing at Ronnie who frowned, looking confused.

“What?” A pause, and then it clicked in her head, for she grimaced. “Oh, you think he and I have children? Eew, no. No kids for us.”

“Kick his ass to the curb,” Elle told her. “Don’t believe a word the bastard says. He’s stepped out on you with me, he will do it again.”

Ronnie nodded. “He is a pain in the butt; I give you that, but I’m kind of attached to the bastard. Plus he’s my landlord too.”

“You are the pain in the butt,” Jack muttered to her. “
My
butt.”

“Don’t use that tone with your wife.” Elle came to her defense. “It’s a miracle she hasn’t murdered you in your sleep already.”

“Sooo true,” Ronnie said, assenting. “I’d be open to sharing him. What do you think?”

Nuts. This chick was nuts. “Keep him. I don’t want him. We are done, Borg. As a matter of fact, I’m going to take you up on your offer,” she said to Biker Dude. “A drink and some R&R would do me good.”

“No you won’t.” Jack shot a glance at Biker Dude that made him stagger.

Fantastic, the toughest-looking guy in the place was scared of Jack.

Biker Dude glanced at her, then at Jack, and took another step back, lifting again his hands. “Sorry, man. Didn’t know she was with you.”

That was it. Elle exploded. “I’m not with him. I don’t share—”

She opened her mouth, but Jack grabbed her and suddenly his tongue was deep in her throat. She thrashed, unable to wrench away from him until he finished thoroughly kissing her and lightened the pressure on the back of her head.

“Don’t you dare touch me again. Go back to your—”

“Sister, pet,” he whispered against her lips, a smirk on his face. “Ronnie is my baby sister.”

* * * *

Jack watched, amused, as Elle fumed and cursed in the truck.

“Why are you so pissed at me?” After all, he was the one who had been yelled at, jabbed, and punched.

“Why? Because you let me make a fool of myself, that’s why. You didn’t correct me.”

“You didn’t let me talk, pet.”

“Ha! Since when has that stopped you? ‘Elle, meet my sister’. How difficult is that?” she screamed, jabbing him with her finger again. “Or you could have mentioned it on our way there. You were having too much fun while I made an ass out of myself and insulted your sister and advertised to everyone you were fucking me.”

He grabbed her hand. She looked furious now, her expression thunderous. Man, she was magnificent. “I wouldn’t worry about Ronnie. She doesn’t offend easily. When it comes to other people, it’s good they know I’m fucking you. No misunderstandings.”

“You…you…” She seemed to have trouble finding the right words. “Ass!” she finally said, punching him on the arm.

“You want a chance to beat the shit out of me? Not these little annoying jabs and slaps. I mean sock me for real.”

She snorted. “Where do I sign?”

Jack took a sharp left. “Come on. I know how to work this off.” She was so wound up, there was no way she was going to be able to sleep. He had a better plan.

“Where are you taking me?”

“You’ll see.”

They were close by, so in two minutes they arrived.

“A gym?” she said looking around as he killed the engine.

Jack nodded, opening the front door. “I come here to train. I keep unusual hours, so the owner gave me the keys.”

“What about training at Haddican’s in Alden? Like all the Bowens?”

Sure. In Alden, with the OGs and the strippers and now the mega-famous rock band Amantis and their crew. Right. He dragged her to the boxing ring. “Get the gloves. You want to hit me? Hit me.”

“Don’t think I won’t.”

“Oh, I know you will,” he said, in a tone that would grate on her nerves. “Try, I mean. Hopefully you can do better than those annoying finger jabs of yours.”

She stomped to the boxing ring, dropped her jacket and pulled off her sweater. Clad in a T-shirt, she grabbed the gloves. “I’m so going to kick your ass.”

Jack took the paddles.

“No gloves for you?” she asked.

“Not in the business of hitting little girls. Do your worst.”

“Not a little girl,” she grunted and threw a punch that wasn’t half bad.

“You’re good,” he said, dodging a leg kick.

“This is nothing. Wait till I warm up,” she stated, dancing around him, her arms in perfect defensive position.

She warmed up pretty fast, because in no time she was throwing punches and leg kicks and body blows that didn’t faze him because of his training. Wearing a cup would have been a good idea, though. She was that mad.

“What is all this about, pet? Why are you so angry?”

“I don’t know shit about you,” she spat out, the fury in her words followed by a killer hook. “You could have been married with children for all I knew. I had no clue you had a sister. Don’t know where you live. What you do for a living. Basic frigging stuff.”

“What do you want to know? Ask.”

“And you’ll tell me?” she asked, her eyes incredulous.

“Probably not, but go ahead and give it a shot.”

“Vai a cagare.”

Go to hell
. Well, a more colorful way of saying it but the sentiment was clear.

He dodged a jab. “And you know what I do for a living. I run a bar.”

“Liar. You don’t spend any time whatsoever in the bar. I was talking about when you disappear and James freaks out.”

“I’m a free agent.”

“What does that mean?” she asked, bobbing and weaving.

“Whatever you want it to mean, pet. Where I live I won’t tell. Basic preservation. Although, if you agree to go there blindfolded and not peek through the windows, maybe I would reconsider.” Then again, she couldn’t be trusted, so no.

She was aiming her punches too low for his comfort. Yet he couldn’t stop egging her on. “One thing I’ll tell you; you need to learn to stay where I put you.”