Desiring the Enemy

Chapter 2

The night hadn’t gone as well as Mackenzie Marshall had hoped it would, which was very frustrating when she considered how much effort it had taken on her part to make this night happen. Alas, it seemed the universe had something against her having some fun.

She had never been to the Blue Rose club before tonight. Hell, she’d never been to any club, really. But she’d heard it was the club to visit from everyone on social media. So, in hindsight, she knew she shouldn’t have been shocked that the line outside the club had been longer than the line in front of a free sample tray at her favorite mall on a Friday afternoon.

Still, Mackenzie had naively thought a pretty face, tight leather pants, and a crop top with lots of exposed skin would be enough to make the bouncer at the door look the other way. Especially since she legally couldn’t be there. Needless to say, it hadn’t been that easy.

Hence how she had ended up stuck outside the club and at the mercy of the weather. Furious and disappointed couldn’t begin to describe her feelings. That was probably why Mackenzie hadn’t thought too hard about it when a good-looking, clean man with a gentle smile approached her and offered to help her get inside the club faster and buy her a drink.

No one needed to tell her it was a bad idea. She had immediately known that John, a name she doubted was his real name, was interested in more than a drink, but she was willing to play along for a while until she could get rid of him. A small price to pay to have her night out.

But now it seemed there would be no drink, and she needed to find a bathroom to clean up. Mackenzie flexed her fingers and grimaced, not liking the stickiness that clung to her skin from the spilled drink. She was also well aware of the very male fingers firmly wrapped around her wrist and the almost electric-like tingle the contact seemed to create.

Confused and irritated that someone had decided to manhandle her and ruin her night, she shot her gaze up at the man and then promptly double blinked as their eyes met.

“Damn,” the stranger muttered just loud enough for the word to reach her ears, even though she doubted he had intended to be heard. But ‘damn’ seemed right under the circumstances.

The lighting in the club wasn’t bright enough for Mackenzie to see the color of the man’s eyes or distinguish whether his hair was brown, blond, or blue. Moreover, half his face seemed to be shrouded in shadows at all times, but the half she did see assured her that good-looking was an understatement. Even dressed in a tight-fitted white T-shirt with a denim jacket the same color as his pants, didn’t distract from his looks.

Despite the situation, which still needed an explanation, the corner of Mackenzie’s lips twitched, and her heart skipped a beat. The surprised expression on the guy’s face that quickly morphed into appreciation did something warm to her insides. In her defense, she thought there was no female alive who wouldn’t be thrilled by a male admirer. Especially one who looked like the man in front of her.

He was certainly better looking than John, who seemed to have stepped closer to her, his body tense with anger that could be heard in his voice. “What the hell, man? Let go of her.”

The tone of possession in John’s voice had Mackenzie’s brows chasing her hairline, but before she could think to react, the guy still holding her wrist blinked and turned his head as though just remembering they were not alone. She watched as the pure male appreciation and wonder he had been giving her seconds before bled from his eyes to be replaced by an angry scowl. When he spoke, his voice was smooth and deep, clear above the club’s music.

“I will do no such thing.”

Mackenzie gasped again, unsure how to interpret his words or how his deep voice made her want to lean in and listen to him speak some more. Her heart hammered away in her chest, but instinct and self-preservation made her tug at the hand he still held.

The movement made Hunter jerk out of whatever haze he had been in. He blinked and then gave his head a mental shake. His gaze dropped once more, and he wasn’t all too surprised to find the woman watching him with narrowed eyes.

Her attempt to reclaim her hand sent more of the cold drink sloshing all over both their hands and her top, which made her hiss, but Hunter didn’t release her. Instead, he brought up his other hand and took the glass out of her fingers. Then he let his anger rise to the surface.

“Don’t you know better than to accept an open drink in a club?” he snapped at her.

The girl’s mouth fell open. Because that was what she was, a girl, not a woman, as he had originally thought. Hunter was certain she wasn’t even in her twenties. His grip tightened around the glass. What was a clearly wide-eyed and innocent girl doing in such a place?

For a second, she seemed speechless, her dark eyes wide in shock. But it only lasted a second, and soon her eyes narrowed again. “Excuse you?” she said in a tone that dared him to repeat himself.

Hunter arched a brow at her even as he gave himself another mental shake. The girl was that captivating, even when she looked at him as though she thought he was a mental patient.

Her warm, tan skin, currently tinted with a blue hue, was flawless, except for a jagged visible scar on her left temple. She had full, luscious lips that glistened under the club’s light with whatever she had applied. A straight nose and carefully tweezed eyebrows that were drawn together as she frowned at him. This time, when she pulled on her wrist again, Hunter released her and took a step back. But he didn’t shut up.

“If you are going to go clubbing, at least make it a point to get your own damn drink. You almost got drugged.”

“Look, mister, I don’t know you from a can of paint. So you don’t get to…” She suddenly stopped. Her eyes widened again as the rest of his words seemed to register in her brain finally.

Hunter watched as a visible shudder rocked her body, and she brought her arms up and around herself as though to ward off the chill only she felt. Her lips parted but snapped back together again before she abruptly turned, searching the spot where her mischievous companion had been standing moments before. But the man was gone, having slipped away while they had been distracted with each other. Her eyes snapped back toward Hunter, her nostrils flaring.

“Where did he go?”

Hunter arched an incredulous brow at her. “How the hell am I supposed to know? He’s your boyfriend. You should be the one keeping track of him.”

To Hunter’s amusement, the girl’s hands curled into fists at her sides. For a second, he thought she might just attempt to punch him. Sadly, she didn’t, but her voice dripped with all the rage she obviously felt within.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” she gritted out through clenched teeth. “I met him outside the club.”

He’d had a feeling that was the case. Still, Hunter shook his head like a disapproving parent. “And you trusted him enough to get you a drink? Are you that desperate for a traumatic experience?”

“Don’t lecture me! You don’t even know me,” she snapped.

At the back of his mind, Hunter was aware of the attention their little exchange was beginning to attract. The people closest to them stopped chatting, and the dancing became less enthusiastic, as though their attention was no longer on the beat of the music.

Others, like the woman in a fishnet dress that exposed more than it hid, shamelessly turned and began to watch them like they were the latest show on television. As though that wasn’t enough, Hunter thought he saw a few people point their phones in their direction. Typical. Everyone liked drama and was quick to post it on social media.

Not willing to find himself on the internet with a stupid hashtag, Hunter ignored the girl still glaring at him, turned, and walked away from the bar. She was right, after all. He didn’t know her, and he had only intervened out of a sense of morality. No woman should be subjected to a sick man’s fantasies.

But now that he had taken care of that, there was no reason for him to stick around. That was his good deed for the week as far as he was concerned, so now he could leave and head back home.

Hell, he wished he had never left the house in the first place. An hour in the home gym would have worked better. Hitting the club hadn’t lifted his mood one iota, and all he had to show for it was a sweaty body, a headache, and alcohol staining his hand.

It took Hunter approximately ten minutes to weave his way around the numerous club goers and make his way back outside. As soon as the fresh air slapped his clammy skin, he drew a deep breath and closed his eyes, letting the last few minutes slip away. The image of the beautiful girl’s face stubbornly floated into his mind, but he shook it off.

Hunter wasn’t even sure why he was so captivated by her. Sure, she was beautiful, but beauty was a dime a dozen. There had just been something about her. Still, he reminded himself, it didn’t matter, and he would probably never see her again.

The thought vanished as a voice cut through the night behind him - sharp, pissed, and unmistakably female.

“Hey!”

Startled, Hunter’s head snapped in the direction of the club’s entrance. “What the hell?” he muttered under his breath as he watched the girl he had left in the club storming up to him. What the hell was her problem? Hunter was not in the mood for any female drama. Even if said female was sexy as hell. But it looked like he wouldn’t have a say in the matter. s**t!