Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 137310 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 687(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 458(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137310 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 687(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 458(@300wpm)
“No pressure. I said I wasn’t going to push, and I meant that. But warning, I won’t push, but my encouragement might take a harder slant.”
She smiled at that, not a big one, but it was a definite smile before she said, “Consider me warned.”
“I’ll bring you in some tacos,” I offered.
She nodded.
If she ate them, along with her smile, that would be a win for the night.
I left her room, returned to mine, changed out of my clothes and into some cutoff jean shorts and a cute black tee with ruffle sleeves and a plunging V neckline (and I was ignoring why I chose a semi-fancy tee with cleavage, when it was unlikely I’d wear it to hang around the house, it was more a going-out-for-coffee or a movie item of apparel), and I headed to the kitchen.
Muzzle was sprawled in all his faded-jeans-and-tee biker badass on my couch, his focus to the TV, where a true crime doc was playing.
“True crime fan?” I asked as I moved toward the kitchen.
His gaze came to me, it dropped to my legs, his eyes got lazy then they came to mine.
So noted: Muzzle was a leg man.
“Misery loves company,” he replied.
“What?” I queried.
“It’s not good to know there are other sick fucks people have to deal with out there. It’s still good to know we’re not the only ones who are constantly dealing with sick fucks.”
Interesting.
“So that means…?” I prompted.
“People have problems, cops can’t sort it, or they don’t got the money for lawyers or private dicks, or whatever they need to get the problem gone, they come to us, and we get the problem gone.”
Interesting.
“And that means?” I pressed.
He looked to the wall beyond, which was the guest bathroom, and beyond that was Suzette’s room, then back to me.
But he spoke no words.
I realized his look to the wall was his answer.
Sadly, it also wasn’t.
“I’m afraid our short acquaintance has not guided me to understanding your meaningful glances,” I said as I began to move around the kitchen to get dinner started.
I returned my attention to him when he busted out laughing.
He also turned off the TV, rose to his hot-biker-guy height, and moved to the kitchen island.
“Had a lady whose teenage daughter was being sexually blackmailed by some anonymous twat on social media. The girl couldn’t deal. She took her own life. The cops were going too slow, and bottom line, this fuck was doing it to other girls. We found the guy and put him out of commission. Gratis. She got justice, other girls got out from under his thumb. And done.”
I stared at him. “How did you put him out of commission?”
He shot me a panty-melting, white smile. “Now that, even old ladies don’t know. There’s brotherhood shit, Diana, where no one gets in. And it isn’t about keeping the women out. It’s about keeping anyone who isn’t a brother out. Learn that early.”
I wasn’t sure I needed that lesson for the hopefully short time it took us to get Suzette to someplace that was genuinely secure.
But I filed it away anyway.
“What’s for dinner?” he asked.
This was a good question, because I needed to know quantities.
“Are you eating?” I asked in return.
“Depends on what’s for dinner.”
“Beer-battered cod tacos.”
“I’m eating.”
I smiled at him.
He tipped his head to the side. “This gonna be homemade?”
“The cod, yes. The slaw, yes. The salsa, afraid not.”
“You want help?”
“Do you cook?”
“Not if I can help it. But if a woman with a great rack, a sweet ass, killer legs and a pretty smile asks, I can wing it.”
I’d never had a man speak about my person right to my face in such direct terms, and still, I felt highly complimented.
Even so, I narrowed my eyes at him. “Are you flirting with me?”
“Yes, but only out of habit,” he stated. “If I was serious, you would know. But I can’t be serious because Hugger would feed me my balls for breakfast, and I like them where they are.”
My heart did a weird squeeze when he said that.
“Why would he do that?”
“Babe,” was all he said.
“Is that an answer to my question?”
“Uh…yeah.”
“I hate to inform you, it actually wasn’t.”
He winked at me, then went to the fridge, came out with a head of cabbage, and said, “I’ll let you figure it out.”
Hmm.
I didn’t press because I promised Hugger dinner would be ready when he got back, he’d been gone a good twenty minutes, so we needed to get cracking.
I learned Muzzle was good with shredding cabbage and grating carrots.
I also learned he was what I expected he was: all man.
This happened when I got the fish salted, the batter resting, and he muscled me out of the way when I unearthed the skillet and oil.
Men did the frying.
Good to know.
Through this, surreptitiously, I took Muzzle in.