Tragic Beauty (Beauty & The Darkness #1)(37)

“Hey,” I answer.

“Gavin, my man! Tell me you’re out. Tell me the lawyers got it handled.”

“Yeah. I’m out.”

“Oh, thank fuck!”

I tune out as Lenny rambles on. From what I can hear in the background, it sounds like he’s at a party, probably out fishing for his next big star. He’s not as big an ass as some of the other agents out there, but he’s still a piece of work. I tune back in when he mentions work. “Hey, your flight’s all set for London first thing Monday. Ready for round three?”

“Yeah,” I lie. There are some things I like about filming, but in reality, it’s a lot of waiting around with little bursts of acting. I can’t help but feel like a fucking trained animal wagging its tail whenever the director says action.

“Alright,” Lenny says, after someone calls his name in the background. “I gotta run, bad boy. Stay out of trouble, okay? You know how the studios are. But hey, in my book, bad publicity is still good publicity.” Lenny chuckles and hangs up.

I have to close my eyes and temper my thoughts, otherwise my phone’s about to be launched. I take a deep breath, shove the phone back in my pocket and walk to my car. Minutes later, I pull out of Ava’s driveway, feeling as though I’m leaving something precious behind.

On the way out of town, my eyes settle on a sign that makes my mouth water. Buck’s Bar.

The parking lot’s crowded and I wonder how a place like this, in a town this size, could be so busy, but then I remember it’s Saturday night, and probably not much else to do around here. I grab my hoodie and put it on, and with eyes down and hood up, make my way into the bar. It’s loud and smells like beer and sawdust, and there are people everywhere. Most are off to the right, sitting at tables or listening and dancing to the live band playing country music, the lead singer sporting a cowboy hat and a beard that trails down to his chest.

I walk to the left, keeping my head down as I make my way past antlers and old bits of ranch and farming equipment hanging on the wall, to the far back corner and take a seat at the bar. Thankfully it’s dark, with a few empty seats next to me. I don’t want company. All I want is something to quench the thirst—a thirst I got from my dad. You’d think I’d stay away from the stuff after watching him drown in it all his life, but that’s part of the thrill. It’s that demon in me, not happy unless it’s flirting with that line between control and chaos. Most times I keep it steady, but sometimes, I crash. And when I crash, I crash big.

And I almost crashed last night. Ava has no idea how hard I had to hold back in that forest. She had the demon raging in its cage, getting me to chase her like that. I was telling her the truth when I said it was unlike anything I’d ever experienced. I felt like a blood thirsty animal, chasing down its prey. Fuck, that was so damn hot, seeing her flee through the trees, naked, like some wild nymph, her long hair behind her, her skin flashing in the moonlight. By the time I was on her, I couldn’t hold back. I needed to be inside her like I’d never needed to be inside anyone. And once I was in her, she felt so tight and so good, that my control began to slip even more. But then I looked into her eyes and saw all the fear she was trying so hard to push through. Thank God it calmed me right down. And no wonder she was so afraid.

A virgin.

Fuck.

I close my eyes and rub at my temples, when I hear, “What’ll it be?”

I look up to see a big, bald man waiting, wearing a red plaid shirt with the name Buck embroidered in the upper left.

“Jack and Coke.”

He nods and a moment later sets a drink in front of me and I lay a credit card down. “Keep a tab open.”

The bartender lingers for a moment. “You that guy, ain’t ya? The one who beat up Shayne.”

I take a swig of my drink, relishing the burn as it slides down my throat. “Was self-defense,” I mutter.

The bartender grunts, then shoves the card back my way. “On the house,” he says. “A lot of folks around here grinning tonight, because of what you did. Plenty of us would’ve loved to be able to take him on, self-defense or not, but, well, it wouldn’t turn out so well for us. Can’t tell you how many fights he’s started in here, busting the place to hell, and never paid a dime for it. And I’m not the only one he’s wronged. Let’s just say you did something most of us around here would’ve paid to see.”

“Thanks,” I say, feeling oddly grateful for the words.

The man sticks out his huge hand and I shake it. “Buck,” he says with a crooked grin, pointing at his shirt, “in case you hadn’t figure it out.”

“Gavin.”

“Pleased to meet you, Gavin.”

A woman’s voice blasts over the music from down the bar. “Buck, get your ass over here. I need some drinks.”

We both glance down where a middle aged blonde with teased up hair waits, tapping her nails on her tray.

“Coming,” Buck sighs. “Jesus, you’d think she owns the place.” Buck turns, then glances back over his shoulder. “Anything you want is on the house.”

I give a thankful nod and watch Buck make his way to the blonde, who’s eyes settle on me, then widen.

Fuck.

I look down at my drink, then risk a glance up to see her starting to make her way over to me, but Buck calls her back. I’m not sure what he says to her, but she pouts, waits for him to fix her drinks, then disappears into the crowd with her tray.