Page 15 of Necessary Evil
Chapter 3
TWO YEARS AGO
It was the night of Evan’s retirement party, and Lucy walked into his bar, The Blue Line, carrying a shrimp platter. She should have realized something was up when the cops who’d showed up to celebrate took it without any banter and handed her a red Solo cup of questionable liquid. Evan had just bought the place and didn’t even have his liquor license yet. She nonchalantly left the cup on a table and hoped whatever was in it didn’t eat a hole in the plastic.
“Where’s Evan?” Lucy asked.
“Upstairs,” someone said.
She didn’t plan on staying long. None of her friends were there yet, and she’d be damned if she’d hang around the pool table with the assholes. So she went upstairs.
The first clue that upstairs wasn’t a public party was when she caught sight of Jenny through an open doorway riding Sentinel like a Harley down a bumpy road. Lucy’s cheeks burned with embarrassment and shock. That had been unexpected. But not as much as pushing into the next room and catching Evan in nothing but a towel.
It was hard to say who was more surprised that she’d busted in on him, but Evan broke the silence first. “Counselor, what are you doing here?”
She collected herself the best she could. “I—I, uh, came to wish you good luck. The bar’s nice.” They stared at each other for a moment more before Lucy took a step back. “Well, I should be going.”
“Wait.” He stopped her with a hand on her elbow.
“You should put on pants,” Lucy told him.
“Why?”
For once she didn’t have an answer.
“Who sent you up here?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.
“The guys,” she said. “I didn’t know you had private rooms up here. I thought it was part of the bar.”
“Half of this floor is going to be a VIP area for private parties. The other half will be my apartment.”
“It’s…nice.” Lucy was trying her damnedest not to look down. He had just gotten out of the shower and there were droplets of water on his chest. “What the hell is that on your hand?” she screeched, all thoughts of licking the water off him fleeing with a shudder of revulsion.
“It’s a black widow.”
“Why did you get a s-spider”—she forced the hated word out—”on your hand?”
“It was cheaper than SpongeBob SquarePants,” Evan deadpanned.
It always caught her off guard, his humor.
“Besides, I’m like the spider. I’m patient when I’m stalking my prey.” He took a step closer to her. She could smell the crisp scent of his soap.
Lucy tried for a joke, even though his nearness was making her head spin a bit. “A spider tattoo and growing a beard.” She reached up to touch the heavy stubble, then snatched her hand away. What the hell was the matter with her? “What’s next? A sports car and a trophy wife?”
He shook his head. “Close. I tricked out my bike, though, instead of going for a ’Vette.”
“And the other part?”
He settled his hands on her hips. Lucy stared at him wide-eyed.
“I’ve got them lining up. Although something tells me that you’re not in line.”
“For you?”
“But I’m going to claim a kiss anyway.”
It started out as a teasing dare. But the moment their lips touched, it was as though a switch had been thrown. The first slide of his kiss was like a drug. She responded with a swipe of her tongue across his lips. Evan groaned and tugged her into his arms. Lucy pressed against him shamelessly and devoured his mouth like she was starving for him. He was solid muscle and kissed like it was his job. The rasp of his beard produced fantasies of how it would feel on other areas of her body: her breasts, between her legs. She clung to him tighter.