Vodka On The Rocks (The Uncertain Saints Book 3) Read online

  I thought about that for a moment and, realizing he was right, the argument I’d been forming died on my lips.

  “And what if they don’t?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “Then every time they say something particularly loud, you take that beer bottle you’ve been fingering all night, and you fuck them up with it.”

  And that, people, was the beginning of a bar fight.

  ***

  Casten

  “I didn’t think she’d do it,” I told Ridley.

  Ridley looked at me.

  “So let me get this straight. You told her she should fuck up that guy who’d been trash talking her all night with the bottle. She was drunk, and he kept running his mouth. And you didn’t think she’d listen to you?” Ridley bellowed.

  Well, when he put it like that, it did make me sound a bit stupid. Hand to God, I swear, I really thought she’d have known better.

  Seriously! She was a grown ass woman!

  I shrugged. “Let her out of the car. If anyone sees her in there, she could lose her job.”

  Ridley grumbled under his breath, and I watched him walk to the car and open the back door.

  Ridley was another member of The Uncertain Saints.

  He was also a deputy with the Marion County Sheriff Department.

  His hair was a mess, which was quite unusual for him. But I wouldn’t go there…not tonight.

  He looked and sounded like he wanted to be anywhere else but here.

  Probably at the bottom of a bottle, I thought to myself.

  Ridley helped to steady a drunken Tasha as she exited the car on wobbly legs. She clutched at his arm, and it took everything I had not to rip her away from him.

  Bad boy. Down boy.

  Great, just great… I was talking to my cock now.

  She sure brought out the best in me.

  “Thanks,” I muttered, meeting Ridley half way to help Tasha stand.

  She was really teetering now, and in tennis shoes no less.

  “You’re welcome!” Tasha cried brightly.

  Tasha was clearly one of those women who got happy when she was drunk.

  Like my sister.

  Speaking of my sister, I waved at her as I saw her come out the side door of the establishment.

  She was a deputy with Marion County as well.

  And she was fond of Ridley. Not in a sexual way, but in a friendly way.

  Not that Ridley knew that. He had his head so far up his dead wife’s ass that it was comical.

  “Hey, big brother,” CeeCee, my sister, acknowledged me with a smile as she sauntered up to me.

  She looked cute in her uniform…not that I’d tell her that. She might shoot me in the face accidentally on purpose.

  I held up my free hand.

  “Hey, C. How’s it going?” I waved.

  CeeCee grinned.

  “It’s going. Would be going better had I not had to leave my dinner to come out here and deal with my big brother’s shit,” she taunted.

  I narrowed my eyes.

  But Tasha was the one who got angry.

  “I’m not shit. And I’m definitely not Storm Cloud over here’s shit,” Tasha grumbled.

  I blinked.

  “Why do you keep calling me Storm Cloud?” I turned my head so I could study her eyes.

  They were so dark brown that they were nearly black, but if the light or the sun caught her eyes just right, I could see the brown flecks there.

  “Because your eyes get all dark and stormy when you get angry. That’s the only way I can ever tell that you’re affected by something I’ve said,” Tasha rambled.

  I decided to shut her up before she got me a new nickname.

  However, judging from the look on CeeCee and Ridley’s faces, it’d already taken root.

  “Let’s go,” I growled, pulling her to my bike.

  “I’ve only been on a bike once before,” she said, now waving to the two people at my back that’d saved her bacon tonight. “Is it like riding a bicycle? You don’t forget how, right?”

  I shook my head and handed her the only helmet.

  “I’ve only got this,” I said, patting the back fender of the bike. “It’ll be uncomfortable, and bumpy; hold on.”

  She sighed.

  “That’s what she said,” Tasha quipped.

  I ignored her, even though I found the line funny.

  It wouldn’t do for her to see that she affected me in any way.

  I didn’t want to give her any ideas.

  “Alright, take me to your leader,” she ordered me.

  I liked Tasha.

  She was the sister of another brother’s old lady.

  I’d thought Annie was hot, but then I’d seen her sister, and all of Annie’s hotness paled in comparison to her hotter sister’s.

  Which was a good thing, because I valued my face the way it was.

  I couldn’t handle another fucked up thing on my body, and Mig was sure to fuck me up if I looked at his wife with anything more than a glance.

  “Yo,” Ridley called as I’d mounted the bike.

  I offered Tasha my hand as she mounted behind me, but turned my attention to Ridley.

  “What?” I grunted.

  He walked over to me and handed me a little clutch purse that I’d seen in Tasha’s lap earlier that evening.

  “Man, found this inside,” he slapped me on the shoulder. “Guessing it’s hers? It has nothing but a phone inside.”

  I nodded. “It’s hers.”

  I started the bike without another word, and roared out of the parking lot with Tasha screaming in my ear.

  I’d met Tasha six months ago when her sister had first started dating Mig.

  She came with Annie to a club party and, for some reason, had made multiple appearances since.

  And each time I saw her, it became harder and harder to resist her.

  But I would.

  Because I couldn’t have a woman.

  Women and I didn’t mix.

  I worked too much.

  I had a dangerous job that kept me out until the wee hours of the morning, and that was if I even came home at all.

  And to top it off, Tasha was too breakable.

  She seriously would break under all that was me.

  I wasn’t easy on the women in my life, and I knew that Tasha was a woman that deserved gentle.

  And gentle just wasn’t within my capabilities.

  Chapter 2

  If she’s honest, caring, makes you breakfast, picks up after you, does your laundry without asking, lets you play Xbox, brings you beer, and lets you touch her ass, marry her. Yesterday.

  -Casten’s delusional thoughts

  Tasha

  Hell. I was in hell.

  There was no other explanation for it.

  My head was splitting, and I was fairly certain if I got out of bed right now, I’d be painting my walls with puke.

  And, although that was a fun color, I wasn’t looking forward to cleaning up any of the mess.

  Vomit was a bitch to get out of the carpet.

  Slowly, I opened my eyes and came face to face with my ferret, Shawshank.

  “Get off my bed, rat,” I said, poking the ferret.

  I’d acquired Shawshank with the apartment.

  The previous owners had four of them, and the day they’d moved out of the apartment, one had gone missing.

  I’d found him and never gave him back.

  Mostly because I didn’t think the previous owners had taken very good care of the ferret. Plus, I was kind of fond of him.

  My cat, however, was not.

  She hissed when Shawshank started wiggling in excitement because I was awake.

  Knowing I couldn’t put it off any longer, I hefted myself up onto one elbow and took stock.

  I wasn’t wearing pants.

  They were on the end of my bed, folded neatly, like my mom used
to do for me before I moved out.

  My shoes were against the far wall, lined up perfectly, side by side with military precision.

  My clutch purse was on my nightstand.

  My phone was plugged into the charger beside my bed.

  And I was wearing what amounted to a night shirt.

  But it wasn’t something I’d worn in quite a long time.

  Which was why I figured that someone had put me in it.

  And I had a good idea who that someone was.

  Casten.

  My face flushed just thinking of him.

  His big, strong hands. His dark, sexy looks.

  Everything about him was perfection.

  And he was an ass.

  A big, huge ass, as a matter of fact.

  I groaned as I finally swung my legs over the side of the bed.

  My head swam, and I forced myself to get up.

  I had volleyball practice in an hour.

  I shuffled like a mummy to the bathroom, completely ignoring my cat, Donkey Kong, Kong for short.

  He was an asshole, too.

  His morning routine had been interrupted, and he didn’t like waiting an extra hour for his breakfast.

  He also didn’t like sharing it with Shawshank.

  I filled his bowl up, then put a small handful of cat food onto the floor for Shawshank before getting into the shower.

  I took a cold one, hoping beyond hope that it’d help wake me up and lessen the pressure that was currently pressing on my brain.

  A loud thump on the bathtub had me sighing and opening the glass shower door.

  Kong put both front feet up on the lip of the tub, then jumped inside. I closed the door with a soft click as the two pieces of glass once again fit back into place.

  He licked the cold water off my legs as I finished rinsing the soap suds from my body.

  “You’ve got a weird cat,” a man’s voice said from the other side of the fogged glass.

  I screamed.

  Not a cute, little, oops-you-startled-me scream, either.

  It was a bloody murder, at the top of my lungs, like a banshee, kind of scream.

  The one my sister hated.

  The one that made my father drop everything and come running when he heard it.

  “Jesus,” Casten growled. “What the fuck are you screaming for?”

  I closed my eyes and tried to get my heart rate back to normal.

  “Oh, my God,” I cried. “What in the world are you doing in my bathroom…while I’m taking a shower, Casten?”

  Soap suds burned my eyes, and I quickly shoved my head underneath the water and closed my eyes, letting what remained of my shampoo slosh off my body.

  Casten’s eyes were roaming all over me when I opened my eyes once again.

  “Casten?” I repeated.

  I wasn’t the least bit worried about him seeing me.

  The glass was frosted, and I knew he could only see the silhouette of my body.

  Casten’s eyes snapped back up to my face.

  “Your car was broken into last night, and since George saw you leave with me, he called me,” he explained.

  I wanted to slap myself.

  I should’ve known that something would’ve happened to my car.

  I’d left it at the new bar in town after running at the track. The one that had just opened a few weeks ago, right on the banks of the Caddo River.

  It wasn’t in the best part of the city, and obviously that had now been proven.

  “What’s wrong with it?” I sighed, turning the faucets off.

  I grabbed the towel off the towel rack just outside the shower, then wrapped it around myself before I stepped fully out of the shower.

  The cool air-conditioned air blew over my wet body like a breeze, and I let my eyes connect with Casten’s.

  “What?” he asked once I stared at him too long.

  “What’s wrong with my car?” I asked again, walking past him to my bedroom.

  I pulled on a bra that I’d left out on my dresser, pulling it on over my towel, and moved to my panty drawer for the matching pair of panties.

  I knew why I did this.

  Sure, they were uncomfortable as hell, and I didn’t like the way my butt cheeks felt like they were hanging out when I moved. But they were sexy, and I liked the way Casten’s eyes widened slightly when he saw them.

  His face, though, remained blank as he watched me slip the panties on underneath my towel.

  Once somewhat covered, I dropped the towel and walked to my closet, keenly aware of how much of my body was exposed.

  I felt Casten’s eyes on me until I disappeared inside the closet. Once I was out of his line of sight, I let out the breath I’d been holding to suck in my stomach.

  My belly was flabby, and my thighs jiggled a little more than I would like.

  I’d gotten soft since I started coaching volleyball instead of playing it.

  I’d gone up in dress sizes, too.

  Needless to say, I was a little self-conscious about all the new curves.

  But from the look on Casten’s no longer blank face, I had succeeded in sucking my stomach in long enough to make it look somewhat flat again.

  Quickly, I dressed in skin tight volleyball shorts.

  The shorts molded to every single curve of my body, from my waist to about four inches below my crotch.

  The shirt I chose said, ‘We hit it hard. We get it from our mommas.’

  It was the one I’d had made in high school during our school playoffs.

  It was on the verge of needing to be thrown away, but it was my lucky shirt.

  And it was soft.

  And I liked the way Casten’s eyes travelled to my chest the moment I walked out of the closet.

  “Nice shirt,” he rumbled.

  “My car?” I repeated as I sat on the bed.

  “Your car’s fine. They just stole the radio…and your rims,” Casten said slowly.

  I blinked.

  “They stole my rims…but not my tires?” I asked, looking up at him as I smoothed my socks up over my calves, then shoved both of my feet into my tennis shoes.

  He nodded.

  “They did,” he confirmed.

  “But…how?” confusion clouding my face as I stood up and faced him.

  He had his arms crossed over his chest, and he was staring at me like he wasn’t affected by me at all.

  “They took them off the car, slashed the tires with fucking bolt cutters or something, and stole the rims,” he said.

  “Bolt cutters?” I shouted.

  He nodded.

  “Yeah,” he confirmed. “The core of the tire is made of a solid structure of wire and metal.”

  That was news to me.

  Although, I’d never actually had a flat tire before, so I’d never had the chance see what they were made of on the inside.

  “That’s unfortunate,” I grumbled. “Can you take me to work?”

  He shook his head.

  “No,” he said. “I have to go to work myself.”

  I blinked.

  “Then why are you here?” I crossed my arms.

  He shrugged. “I thought you’d want to know about your car.”

  “So you thought I’d want to know,” I drawled, leaving the room. “But you weren’t willing to help me get to work.”

  He followed me into the kitchen where I poured myself a travel mug full of coffee.

  Once I had it creamy and at the perfect tastiness, I grabbed my purse and phone out of my room, then exited the apartment.

  All the while under Casten’s watchful eyes.

  He followed me out, and I faintly heard both locks click.

  I vaguely wondered how he managed to lock the deadbolt but decided not to worry about it.

  If I hurried, I could make it to the high school in less than twenty minutes, but I had to walk fast.

  It was so
mething I’d done before.

  My car wasn’t the most reliable, but it was all mine and it was paid for.

  So there was that.

  “What are you doing?” Casten questioned from behind me.

  I looked back over my shoulder at him.

  “I’m walking. What does it look like I’m doing?” I growled, turning back around.

  I waved to the old lady that ran a hardware store to the left of the bar I lived above, but, as usual, she didn’t wave back.

  That was because she didn’t have any arms, not because she was rude.

  She was a nearly life-long, pack a day smoker, and because of a smoking related circulatory disease, both of her arms had been amputated.

  Not that I’d asked.

  She’d been very forthcoming with her business, as well as everyone else’s.

  “Why are you walking? Why not just call your sister?” He was right behind me, dogging my steps.

  I shrugged.

  “My sister has Vitaly,” I shrugged. “By the time she got all the way out here, I’d wind up being late when I could’ve just walked and been on time. And there’s no reason to get her all the way out here to just to give me a ride, when I’m so close to my work.”

  Casten growled in frustration, then I heard his boots hit the pavement at my back.

  I hadn’t expected him to let me walk on my own.

  I’d expected him to offer me a ride.

  But did he?

  Hell no.

  He did follow beside me at a snail’s pace, though.

  “What are you doing?” I glared at him when he moved up to my side.

  He was driving on the sidewalk, and I refrained from telling him that wasn’t allowed.

  Casten struck me as the type of man to do what he wanted and ask for forgiveness later.

  And he wouldn’t care, even if he were caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to be doing.

  “I’m riding beside you,” he sounded tired.

  “Why?”

  “Because if I asked you to get on my bike right now, you’d say no out of principle since I told you no earlier,” Casten said. “And I’m not letting you walk to work this early in the morning without someone to follow you, in case you get mugged or something.”

  I cast him an annoyed glance. “What makes you think I can’t take care of myself?”