“I see. Has Travis had an old lady before?”

“I can’t speak for what happened in Tallahassee, but not as far as I know. And no offense, but I can’t see him changing his loner ways for someone like you.” Sophie glanced up and down Billie’s body, giving her the once-over. “I’m guessing the sex was fucking great and that’s made you a little delusional.” She grinned. “Lord knows good sex can do that to a girl, but…”

Billie didn’t hear the rest of Sophie’s sentence. She was too busy thinking about the sex. Yes, it had been off-the-Richter-scale fantastic, but it wasn’t simply her awakened libido that wanted Travis. There was just something about him. Something breathtaking and addictive. Something had shifted inside her since meeting him. In the café last night and during those tender moments post-sex, she’d seen a glimpse of who she believed he really was and she’d felt more herself than she ever had in her life. She wanted to get to know the real man better.

She wanted to be his first “old lady,” however insane that made her.

“Thanks,” she told Sophie as she slid off the bar stool and then downed the rest of her drink.

“Goodbye, Billie.”

“No.” Billie shook her head. “I’ll be back later, but don’t tell Cash. I want to surprise him.”

Chapter 10

Later that night, Travis tried to block out the noise from the bar as he sat once again in the office and hacked into computer records. This job was far easier when he knew what he was looking for. He guessed if there was evidence to find it wouldn’t be obvious—it wasn’t like the Ministry would have planned their hit via email—but at least this gave him something to do. Something to keep his mind off of Billie. And Lorna.

He shook his head at that thought and took another sip of the beer he’d liberated from the bar. The liquid had barely coated his throat when he felt a presence behind him. He turned slowly, expecting to see Ajax or Blue, but almost choked at the sight of Billie standing in the doorway. Or rather Billie’s bad-girl twin. Her blond hair was more mussed up than usual, but it was her outfit that made every muscle in his body tighten. She wore a fitted black T-shirt with the words “Fallen Angel” scrawled across her tits, and he wasn’t sure whether the strip of denim across her thighs was a belt or actually a very short skirt. Either way, his gaze snapped to her long, shapely legs, and the recollection of them wrapped around his body as he drove into her in the shower hit him as if it were a physical blow. Her feet, which were usually bare, were encased in some kind of black, strappy heels, giving him all kinds of fantasies he shouldn’t and didn’t want to be having.

She looked damn hot—reminded him a little of Sandy from Grease when she went all bad girl at the end—but although she might be dressed like the girls that frequented The Priory, that didn’t mean she was one of them. Looks could be deceiving. But what the hell game was she playing, coming in here looking like that?

She hit him with a smile and he realized his tongue had been hanging out. Dammit. He snapped his mouth shut and glared at her. “What are you doing here?”

Her chirpy expression didn’t falter. “I thought we had a dinner date?”

He made some kind of snort-cum-scoffing noise. “I don’t date, sugar.” And besides, after the little display he’d put on in her gallery this morning, he thought she’d be through with him. He’d sure as hell shown her his true colors.

She raised her eyebrows. “So what was Café Du Monde?”

“I couldn’t sleep. I was horny. I wanted your pussy and I knew the only way to get it was to play nice, but I’m not nice. I thought you saw that today.” It wasn’t entirely true—he’d enjoyed her company as much as her body—but he thought he sounded convincing.

“Maybe I don’t care what I saw today. Maybe I don’t care about your personality; maybe I just want you for your body as well.”

For a second her words shocked him, but then he chuckled. “In my experience, women say stuff like that but in the end, they can’t keep emotions and sex separate.” Although fuck knows why she’d find anything else to like about him.

“I’m not a walking cliché, Travis. I’m not asking for a wedding ring, just more of what we had last night. A lot more.”

“Well, that’s a damn shame, because I’m done with you.” He pretended to go back to what had been keeping him busy on the screen, not daring to look at her for fear she’d see he was lying. It was better this way. For him. And definitely for her.

“Fine. If you want to punish the both of us, then go ahead. I’m not going to beg.” And with that, she turned on those fucking-amazing heels and stalked out into the bar.

Travis closed his eyes and let out a sigh of relief. He didn’t know how long he’d have been able to resist her in that outfit. Especially if she did start to beg. Jesus, the thought made his cock ache. Deciding he needed something stronger than beer to distract him, he stood and headed out into the noisy bar. He weaved through the bartenders and was about to serve himself a bourbon when he saw something out of the corner of his eye that made his blood boil.

“What the fuck?” Instead of walking her pretty little ass back to the gallery, it looked like Billie had bought herself a drink, or someone had bought one for her, and was happily chatting about fuck-knows-what with one of the Quarter’s known dealers. He quickly located Ajax and Blue, informed them of the undesirable loitering in their domain, and then went over to remove Billie before things got ugly.

She yelped in protest the moment he clamped his hand around her arm. “Stop manhandling me. Where the hell do you think you’re taking me?”

Travis didn’t reply until they were out back in The Priory’s private courtyard. “If I was manhandling you, you’d know it.”

Billie glared at him, her breasts heaving up and down—either she was annoyed or out of breath. Maybe both. Either way, he wanted nothing more than to shove his hands up her provocative skirt and cover her mouth with his. Somehow, he summoned all the willpower he possessed and landed his hands on either side of the wall so she couldn’t escape while he read her the riot act.

“Then what the hell are you doing?” she demanded.

“What the hell am I doing?” She was priceless. Totally naïve. “I’m rescuing you from getting raped. Or worse.”

She blinked. “Isn’t that my business? And anyway, what makes you any better than that dude?”

“Are you doing this to make me jealous?” His fists curled and he forced a couple of deep breaths, then dropped his hands to his sides and took a step back.

“Is it working?” She licked her lips and it almost pushed him over the edge.

“Go home.” He nodded in the direction of the gallery. “Go back to where you belong and forget about me. You don’t fit in a place like this, no matter what you’re wearing.” Although The Priory was no longer officially associated with bikers, it was one of the rougher bars on Bourbon Street. The tourists that ventured inside these walls were out for a good time, whatever the cost. “Here women are toys unless they’re property. We’re animals, and right now we’re in the middle of a war.”

“Are you trying to scare me?” She lifted her chin high and met his gaze head on.

Hell yes, that was exactly what he was trying to do. For his sake as much as for hers. Fucking her had been stupid enough once, but sleeping with her again would be crazy as well as dangerous. Because what if one more night wasn’t enough? Quite aside from the fact that he was a lone wolf, she was too good for the likes of him.