Dare To Run (The Sons of Steel Row #1)(20)

Guys like Lucas.

And even though Marco had lived on the streets, he wasn’t made for that life. He wasn’t going to be stuck here, dealing with gangs and murder and rape. He was going to get out of here in five days and make something of himself. Do something real with his life. Sure, he’d done his share of petty thievery to get by while he’d been living on the streets, but he had dreams and goals. And I was determined to make sure he got them. Determined to see him thrive in a world full of shit and evil.

He had to.

“Of course they’re trouble. Men like them always are.” I shrugged and turned my back to them. I was sick of watching them stare at me as if I was their next meal. “But they’ll keep to themselves, I’m sure. And if they don’t, I’ll handle them.”

He looked less than convinced. “I don’t know. They’re watching you closely.”

“Nothing new there,” I said dismissively, waving a hand. “Enough about them. Did you start packing yet?”

He ducked his head and peeked at me from beneath his lowered lashes. “Yeah, but let’s be realistic here, Heidi. I’m not going to fit in there. All the other students will be . . . you know, normal. Rich. Spoiled.”

“But not better than you.”

He rolled his eyes. “I bet they’d disagree.”

“I don’t give a rat’s ass what they’d say. Not after that essay you wrote, which your guidance counselor said was the best one she’s ever read. I guarantee they didn’t get any others that looked even half as amazing as yours.” I rested a hand on his arm. “And you can’t think like that—thinking they’re better than you. They’re not. You have just as much right to be at that college as anyone else does, and you’ll see that when you get there.”

He smiled, but I could tell it was forced. “You might be right. But until then, I’m going to head up to pack since you don’t need me. I’ll be down later around closing just to make sure you’re okay.”

“Okay.” The door opened behind me, and I knew, without looking, exactly who had walked in. I could feel him, even without confirming that it was indeed Lucas. “Be safe.”

“You, too. Speaking of which,” he mumbled, eyeing the door, “that redheaded guy is back.”

My heart kicked up a notch. “Yeah . . . about him?” I smoothed my hands down my jean shorts. It might be cold outside, but it was hot as hell in here, so I dressed accordingly. The whole bar consisted of one smallish room, so body heat added up quickly on a busy night. “He’s my boyfriend, in a way, for a little while. Sort of.”

Marco’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean, sort of?”

“It’s a long story, and nothing you need to know, since you’ll be outta here soon.” I smiled, but I had a feeling it looked as strained as his smile had. “I just didn’t want you worrying if you saw him touching me, or talking to me too long. That’s all.”

“All right . . .” He stepped back, his attention still on Lucas. “He’s not your type, though.”

Laughing, I pushed off the bar. “Do I have a type at all? I don’t exactly date a lot.”

“True. But when you do?” He walked away and said the last bit over his shoulder. “It’s not guys like him. Be careful.”

“Always am,” I called out. “Now, get out of here.”

After taking a breath to calm my nerves, I spun around and scanned the poorly lit room for Lucas. I really needed to get better lighting, brighten the place up a bit. He made his way over to me with long, determined strides, completely ignoring the Bitter Hill table. His attention never wavered from me. As he walked across the room, my stomach clenched tight. He had a way of moving through a crowd that announced, without his even trying to, that he owned everyone in it. That he, and he alone, was in control. And everyone who disagreed could go to hell.

“You okay?” he asked, his green eyes skimming over me. The lights in the bar made his hair seem redder, and his arms flexed as he stopped directly in front of me.

Shaking off the warmth coiling through my veins, I rested my hands on the bar and leaned across it. “Yeah, I’m fine, Lucky. But we have company, and they’re—”

“I told you not to call me that,” he growled.

Then, without a warning, he curled his hand behind my neck and hauled me farther over the bar. Before I could so much as blink, his lips were on mine. He kept the kiss gentle, so it didn’t hurt. Despite the fact that he was hot, and I’d been attracted to him since day one, the way he kissed me was so impersonal that it did . . . nothing.

Nothing at all.

His generous lips were hard under mine, and he didn’t so much as move his lips softly over mine even once. They were just there, pressed against mine, and then they weren’t. He pulled back slightly but didn’t let go of me. “I know they’re here, watching. That’s why I kissed you. They needed to see it before I went over to them.”

I blinked. “I don’t mean to insult your game or anything, but that wasn’t a kiss. I don’t know what it was, but I definitely wouldn’t classify that as a kiss.”

Instead of looking wounded or injured at my insult to his moves, he appeared amused. His green eyes danced, and the smirk I’d come to know so well slid into place. “It wasn’t supposed to be one. Not really. Run your hand down my back.”