Sugar laughed. Nicola was a cool chick. She fit with Titan. Maybe Sugar needed more downtime. Who cared that she wasn’t with ATF anymore? After she was home, she could run GUNS and try for something more stable—like not flying to Afghanistan. What was I thinking with that move? Oh, yeah. Avoid J-dawg.

Until she was home, a few dances, a couple of shots, and off to bed would have to treat her right.

“This night just got so good.” Nicola grinned from ear to ear. “You’ll never guess who just walked in.”

CHAPTER TEN

Games weren’t his thing, but Sugar was. The sooner he admitted it, the sooner he could deal with it. Whatever that means.

Jared looked around the club. Dark walls. Flashing lights. Thumping Euro-bass giving him an ugly headache. Russian mobsters chilled on couches with leggy supermodels. Middle Eastern playboys held court over gaggles of beauty-queen look-a-likes begging for sex. He saw Nicola, and then Sugar.

No one compared to her. She was a trussed-up brunette working the dance floor, displaying too much flesh for public viewing. And those moves. A girl who could work a dance floor like that would be even better in bed. Though Jared was more than aware of Sugar’s talent. He’d had a taste and wanted more.

With a twist of her neck, her thick hair slid over a bare shoulder. She was daring some sexy moves, ignoring the men feasting on the view. Sugar and Nicola had men circling them. Jared was comforted by the knowledge that either woman could knock a guy out and not miss a beat on the floor.

Possessive need clenched his chest. What he wouldn’t do to break a few faces. Then no one would stare at his girls. Shit, where is Cash? Princess doesn’t need to be eyeball-fucked like that.

But instead of breaking up their party, he savored the visual. Sugar’s skirt clung to a curvy backside that he wanted to sink his teeth into. After that party parade, it needed a solid slap. His palm could almost feel it.

A Euro-trash-wannabe stud took a step too close to Sugar. Then another. Fuck that. Jared put down his drink.

Sugar popped her fist back, connecting with the bastard’s nose, and deep in Jared’s gut, pride swelled. She hadn’t even turned around. The strobe light flashed, and Nicola flicked the air as the man staggered backward, covering his face and hollering. Fuckin’ A. Good girls.

Content to watch, he settled back onto his barstool, then Nicola caught his eye. She snaked her finger at him. Come hither? That’d be a ‘fuck no.’ But thanks for the invite. Christ.

Nicola leaned to Sugar, who turned, nodding. And that gave him a much better look at her getup. The dark tank top was melted over her curves. It would’ve been a plain-Jane club-going staple on some chicks, but on Sugar, the way it covered her bombshell breasts, it was an invitation to a fantasy league.