DELINQUENT

FIVE

He gave me a wicked, heart wrenching grin. He was utterly breathtaking, so much so that with every second I felt my heart sped up. I felt trapped, alone in a room, just me and him. The world around me gone. His grin grew, showing off gleaming white teeth.

Like a taut rubber band released, the bar snapped back to me, the pulsing crowd returned. I felt the bodies press into me, surrounded again.

"Actually," Jameson Neat looked around his table. Embarrassed that I hadn't registered his guests, I flashed them a small smile. He turned to each person, pointing at each of them. They nodded as the finger jabbed at them. "We'll take four – no - eight shots of Don Julio."

"Tequila?" I didn't hide the surprise. Not what I would imagine a whiskey drinker enjoyed.

"And a whiskey neat." He winked at me, "Same deal as before, don't let it go dry."

Like hell, I would.

Sweat dripped down my back and I was thankful our shirts were black, covering up how out of shape I was. I continued to push around people, to make the rounds to my tables.

I bit back a shout when Liza messed up another drink order. I was strung out, too busy, getting unfocused. A sheen of wet across Jared's forehead made me feel better. We were all stressed.

I picked up my tray, and the third round of Don Julio and a fresh whiskey for my favorite table. Shaking under the weight of the full tray, my arm gave out when I got a passing shove. I went down with it, the drinks crashing around me. Shattered.

Fuck.

I reached out to gather the bigger chunks of glass. Save anyone from slicing up their foot up. A strong hand grasped my upper arm tugging me to stand.

Jameson Neat.

"Don't be an i***t. You're going to cut yourself." He growled. "Go tell Jared."

The grit in his voice made him impossible to disobey. I wiggled out of his hand. Stumbling, a small flutter of nerves and something undisguisable washed over me as I pushed my way back to the bar, yelled the news to Jared who sent Charlie to clean it up. Without another word, Jared made me a fresh round of drinks.

It all fell back together, the slip up forgotten, brushed under the table. The feeling in my gut slowly mitigating, suppressing. Jameson Neat sat back at his table, joking with his boys. I shook my head trying to forget it all too and shot back to work.

Deliverance stayed open later that night, finally dying down around one. I took a moment's rest, leaning against the wall. My eyes drifted around the few tables I had left. My feet were on fire and I missed the sensible, unflattering shoes I had worn on Tuesday.

Jameson Neat had a hand stuck in his hair, his face tilted back, listening. He waved a hand in the air, flexing his finger in a 'come here' motion. I looked over my notepad as I make my way over tallying up his bill to well over $400.

"438." I told before he could ask. He opened his wallet up and counted out exact change into my hand. I waited for the tip. None came. He sealed his wallet back up.

"Are you serious?" I asked with disbelief.

"We had a deal."

The finality in his tone enraged me. "Somebody punched the tray out of my hand."

"That's not my fault." He stood, towering over me. Arms crossed over his chest he leaned down into me. "Try harder next time."

Bastard! f*****g bastard!

I was busting my ass all night and he stiffed me on a 400-dollar tab?

I closed my eyes, let out a deep breath and pouted all the way back to the bar. Jared gave me a pitiful look. He was alone now, had sent Liza and Charlie home a while ago. They were unnecessary when the masses died down.

Jameson Neat and his group finished their drinks and then slithered out like the scoundrels they were to the door.

"Mila." Jared said as he turned the dishwasher on. "Get a ride home from Tom."

I gave him a questioning look. Jameson Neat stood in the doorway alone. He held an expectant look. I started to shake my head.

"It's almost 2 am. I'm not letting you walk home alone and I'm not paying for a f*****g cab. Tom will look after you."

"I'll just wait for you." I said trying to find a middle ground between walking home alone and being stuck in a car with an absolute prick.

"I'm not close to being done here."

"Mila." Tom shouted from the door. "Let's go."

"He's drunk!" I hissed at Jared, a last attempt to escape this situation.

"Then you drive." Jared turned his back to me, done with the arguing.

"Mila." Tom repeated impatiently. I held up a finger to him. Untying my apron, I went to the office and grabbed my purse.

Tom smiled at my return and opened the door for me. I looked past him as I bound through it. "I'm driving," I announced.

"I'm not drunk." Like hell, he wasn't. He had drunk half a bottle of whiskey and more than a few shots.

"I don't care" I stuck my hand out to him.

He gave in, pushing keys hard into my hand. I let out a squeal of pain at the gesture. It went unnoticed.

A quick scan up and down the street left me puzzled. His black beaten down SUV wasn't here.

"It's the GT." Tom pointed at it like it was obvious. Off red with two thick grey stripes running up the center, I stopped dead on the sidewalk. It was an understatement to say that it was a huge upgrade. I had never even seen one in person.

"Where the SUV?" I asked, unlocking the car and getting in.

"It's in the shop," Tom said as he slid in beside me, slamming his door. I put my seatbelt on.

The smell of new leather overwhelmed me. I bit my lip, running my hands across the dash. Sleek, sexy, a mirror image of him. His eyes danced with amusement as he took in my approval.

"New muffler?" I asked.

"How'd you know?"

I peeked over at him, his grey eyes should be dull, hazy in the dim lit car but somehow they shone, intense interest lighting them up. "How didn't you?" He shrugged not embarrassed by his ignorance. Just as confident as ever. "Why even bother with the SUV when you have this?" I asked.

Leaning back, Tom smiled at me and shrugged, "I like to keep a low profile."

I couldn't stop the snort from coming out. "Yeah, nothing says low profile like a brand new supercar." Sarcasm dripped from my voice

"Let's go." He said, tilting his head back against the seat and closing his eyes.

I pushed it to start and frowned. This was a manual.

I made a face. I hadn't driven stick in years. My brother had taught me on a shitty Jeep where the clutch and transmission didn't matter, where they were worthless. This was a brand-new Ford GT.

A snore fell from Tom's lips.

I released the clutch and shifted into first, it grinded harshly leaving my skin crawling. Luckily it didn't wake him.

Oh well. It wasn't my car.

I stalled twice on the way home, not that Tom knew. And hand to God, I would never tell him.

I pulled us over to the curb opposite my building. The engine sputtering out before I had the chance to shut it off.

Whoops.

I unbuckled myself and collected my purse. I was running on fumes and I needed sleep now. I spared a look at Tom. His dark hair fell into his eyes, long black lashes brushing his high cheeks. He really was beautiful. Part of me ached to see the dimple on his cheek, the sign of a gentler man.

How did he drink all day, sit on his ass, w***e around and have the body of an Olympian? God really did give with two hands. It infuriated me.

My eyes wandered over his tattoos, just wisps of ink visible. Appetizers for the main event.

I found the handle and let my fingers lace through it. Did I leave him here? Let him sleep his drunk ass off in the car?

I chewed on the inside of my cheek. I knew if I woke him, he would drive home. He may have been telling the truth about not being drunk. I didn't know him well enough to know how much he could handle.

It wasn't worth the risk I decided. I wouldn't wake him. Creaking my door open, he jerked up, his hand shooting out to me grabbing my arm. I nearly jumped out of my skin when he pinned me to the back to my seat. My body thrummed with adrenaline from the speed of it all.

"s**t. Don't scare me like that." He groaned.

Scare him? I just about pissed my pants with fear and he was reprimanding me?

Asshole.

I shook my arm roughly.

He released me. "Sorry. This where you live?"

"Yup." No sense in hiding it, he would see me go into the dilapidated building. I was too tired to be embarrassed about the state of it, the location and how many people were loitering around the front, cigarettes hanging from their lips. I pushed my door open the rest of the way. Scrunching up my brows I added, "Goodnight Tom."

"That's Mr. Preston to you." He said, opening his own door.