Page 39 of Unruly

Cash is still at the pool table, arms crossed and standing there with a cue, his eyes on me in a way that’s anything but charming. It’s not the usual look—the lazy half-smile and the flirty patience he’s been running on me for months.

This is something else.

He’s fuming.

“Bar’s closed,” I say, though my voice comes out steadier than I feel.

“I know.”

He doesn’t move toward the door.

I pick up a rag and start wiping down the bar because my hands need something to do and because if I look at him directly right now, I don’t know what’s going to happen, and I’ve had enough things happen tonight.

“Cash.”

“Don’t.” His voice is low. “Don’t tell me you’re fine. Don’t tell me it’s nothing. I’ve been watching you hold yourself together with both hands for four hours and I want to know what happened in that hallway.”

I keep wiping.

“Halle.”

I set the rag down as he pushes off the pool table and starts walking toward me like a predator. The closer he gets, the harder my heart pounds. When he reaches the bar, he plants both hands on the wood and leans in, eyes burning into mine. “You’re standing there, looking like someone ripped your heart out. So tell me what the hell is going on, or I’m going to lose my fucking mind.”

CASH

Icross the bar and hop over it, crowding her against the wood. She won’t look at me—that’s what does it for me. I don’t like being ignored, especially by her.

Halle Dawson doesn’t hide from things. She meets everything straight on with that sharp mouth. Tonight, she’s been staring at the same stretch of bar top for four hours, and I’ve been twenty feet away, watching her do it, and I’m completely done.

“You’re standing there, looking like someone ripped your heart out. So tell me what the hell is going on, or I’m going to lose my fucking mind.”

“Nothing happened.”

“Don’t lie to me. You’ve been shaking all night. Who called you?”

Her lips press together, so I take her hand and pull her toward the back, into the storage room. Shelves of liquor line the walls, cases of beer are stacked in the corner, and the metal shelving unit bolted to the back wall has a horizontal rail running across the top at just above head height.

Her eyes find the thin black rope on the shelf by the door at the exact same moment mine do.

“Cash. No.”

The corner of my mouth tilts up. “Arms up, baby.”

“You are out of your goddamn mind if you think I’m letting you tie me up just so I’ll talk about some stupid phone call.”

I step into her until her back hits the shelving unit. “Arms. Up.”

She glares pure murder at me, cheeks flushed with fury. “Cash. I’m not doing this.”

I grab her chin firmly, forcing her to look at me. “You don’t have a choice anymore, Halle.”

Her eyes widen, and she tries to twist away, but I’m faster. I grab both of her wrists and yank them up over her head, pinning them to the rail. She struggles, pulling hard and trying to slip free, but I hold her in place with my body while I quickly tie the rope around her wrists.

“Cash—stop! Let go of me!” she snaps, yanking against the restraint as soon as I step back.

I tie them tight enough that she feels it, but loose enough not to mark her. When she tests the rope, the motion stretches her out beautifully—full tits pushing forward, bar shirt straining across her curves, thick thighs pressed tight together.

“Fuck you, Cash. Let me go right now.”