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“I can do whatever the hell I want.”
“Not on my watch,” I growl, bending to make sure she sees the unbridled rage, wiping my still-bleeding nose. “If you’re in this family, you do as you’re damn well told, no questions asked.”
“Fuck off.”
“I’d love to, but unfortunately for both of us, neither of us are going anywhere.” Except me. To hell.
Her eyes drop to my lips.
I see it in the heated depths immediately. Intention. We stare, breathe—a mix of anger and desire. And both move at the same time, our mouths coming together fast and hard, lips clashing, tongues thrashing. I push her into the lockers, slamming a door loudly, the sound of metal crashing together deafening. Grabbing her thigh under her ass, I pull her leg up to my hip, kissing her like some kind of depraved crazy man.
“I didn’t use you,” she says around my mouth, going at me hell for leather.
“Don’t say that,” I warn, grabbing a breast, squeezing. “Fuck, don’t say that.”
“Why?”
What are you, my?—
I wrench myself away, panting, looking down at one of my hands on her boob, another on the back of her thigh. What am I doing? No. Not again. I drop her and move back, resisting the pull. I need to get my kicks elsewhere. Relieve the pressure by other means. Means that won’t fuck with my conscience.
Leave.
I avoid her eyes and stalk out the changing room to seek solace somewhere else, and with someone else.
I fall into my car. Stare at the windshield.
Jump out of my fucking skin when someone raps on the window.
Danny’s murderous face is pushed up against the glass. “Otto found some info on the Escalade outside Hiatus.”
I lower the window, seeing James pacing behind. His persona tells me he’s already privy to this information. And I definitely do not like his thoughtful, scowling face. “What?”
“It’s registered to a Johnathan Dresden.”
“Who the fuck is Johnathon Dresden?”
“An ex-cop.”
“Say what?”
“Living in Lake Harbor.”
I get out of my car. “That’s a bit far, isn’t it? To swing by for a drive-by?”
Danny frowns. “What the fuck happened to your nose?”
“I walked into a locker.” I wipe it again. “So you’re telling me an ex-cop tried to kill me?”
“I’m telling you what I know,” Otto says. “And I know that vehicle is registered to a retired cop. Johnathon Dresden.”
“And what are we going to do about this?” Please say kill.
“We think, that’s what. No guns blazing.” Danny laughs at the irony of that statement. “For once. Who the fuck was in your bed this morning?”
“Fuck off.” What’s with the twenty fucking questions?
“Te—” His phone rings, and he looks down at the screen briefly before returning his attention to me. “Tell m—” A frown. Another look at his phone. Then he holds it up, and James moves in too, both of us looking at the screen flashing.
