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"Gangsta?" I snorted, watching her profile as she kept an eye on the road.
She was fuckin' gorgeous.
There was no way around that.
But not in the plain, natural way.
In the way that said she wanted to be more than just the flesh she was born with. Hence the streaks of pink, blue, green, and purple in her hair. And the piercing in her nose and all the way up her ears. And the ink on her arms and chest. And the makeup that had likely been not-melted and hot as shit before she sweated through it.
She was the kind of chick who was unashamedly, fully herself. And that shit was always sexy. Regardless of what was clearly good bone structure and a hot as fuck figure.
Just the memory of her pressing her tits into my chest and making me grab her ass was getting me half-hard.
"Yes, as in 'What up, Gangsta.' 50 Cent?" she added giving me a sideways look when I didn't agree with her. "What, did you live under a rock in 2003?"
"Got the reference, babe. Just wondering how the fuck you know gangsta rap, but can't distinguish between a gangsta and a biker."
"Oh, distinguish. Three whole syllables. Is your brain alright? It didn't overheat trying to get that big word out, did it?"
"Smartass."
"My ass? You mean my sweet honey buns?" she asked, bringing the fucking song up again.
"Why the fuck do you drive a hearse?" I wondered, deciding changing the subject was the best bet.
"It's sweet, isn't it?" she asked, grinning like a freak.
"Creepy might be a better word."
"I know! That's what makes it sweet. The creep-factor. You should see the faces of the old peeps at the library when I roll up to work every night."
"Hold up. Library?" I asked, brow raising. "No offense, baby, but you are the furthest fuckin' thing from a librarian I have ever seen."
"No offense taken. That is actually a compliment. I'm not all middle-aged, pinched-faced, and shushing the kids because they are giggling over the nudey pictures in the old encyclopedias."
"So you know Reese," I assumed, meaning Cy's old lady. Who, in her quiet, bookish way, did strike you as someone who would hole up with books all day and be perfectly happy.
"Reese is the cutest. And Cy is the best."
"You know Cy."
"He used to hang at the library all the time, puppy-dog-eyeing Reese while he tried to be the better person and keep his dick to himself. Why, I have no idea. Because, clearly, sharing his dick did all kinds of good things for the both of them. And, lately, he's been pulling sentry duty whenever she has a shift. Word on the street is The Henchmen have a new enemy. Which is kinda cool."
"Kinda cool?"
"In a very... anything could happen, and that is exciting in both good and bad ways kinda cool."
"Ever even held a gun, Peyton?"
"Ugh, don't get me started," she grumbled, shaking her head.
"On what?"
"The police state we live in. One too many stays at the NBPD put up some kind of flag in the registry. They denied my request to get a permit."
A permit.
That was cute as shit.
"Too many stays at the NBPD, huh? Go crazy-ex-girlfriend a few too many times?"
"Ew. God no," she said in a way that almost seemed to imply that being someone's girlfriend was the gross part, not the going postal on an ex part. "A couple drunk and disorderlies. Some vandalism. Public indecency."
"You're shitting me."
"Nah. They all know - and tolerate - me there. I bring them a Box O' Joe and a dozen donuts the day after they bust me each time. I miss Collings though. He used to give me that You need to shape up, young lady look and tone whenever I went in. It was obnoxious. Reminded me of my dad."
"A librarian with a record."
"Gotta live up to what the people at the library expect from the likes of me, right?"
"Guess so," I agreed, watching as we finally pulled off the back road and onto the highway that led right to the bridge that would take us into Navesink Bank.
Oddly, a part of me wished we were on that road longer.
Crazy shit, I know.
But this would likely be the last time I ran into this crazy ass chick. That, well, was a damn shame. I guess I just wanted another couple minutes around her particular kind of crazy.
"So, Suga," she said, her tone mock-serious.
"So, Peyton," I rumbled back at her, watching as she chanced a look over at a red light, a look in her eyes I had seen enough to recognize it when it was staring me in the face.
Desire.
She wanted me.
The fucked up part was I would have gladly taken her up on the offer in her eyes if I didn't think there would be consequences from it. The kind of consequences that would have Reign asking why the fuck I had to dip my wick in the family of a friendly organization... as he let me be dragged out to the yard to get the shit kicked out of me.
