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I smile at him. As far as Hound knows, I can’t talk and for some reason I don’t want that impression to change.
He picks up my hand and pulls it toward his lips. Just like that Marcum’s hand snaps out and grabs mine. I let out a startled gasp of surprise, and look at him. His face is hard and he’s staring straight at Hound.
“If you want to stop breathing, keep trying to touch my woman,” he says quietly. He may be quiet, but his words sound like steel.
“Your woman?” Hound asks, surprised.
“You’ve got about two seconds to let go of her hand,” Marcum adds. His voice is that same quiet voice that sends chills down my spine—and definitely not the good kind.
Hound drops my hand, but now he’s looking at me. Graves is silent beside him, but his gaze is trained on me too and just as intense.
“Mind telling me what in the fuck brought this on?”
“I do. It’s not your fucking business,” Marcum says and he pulls my hand back to his lap, blatantly putting it near his cock. I might have pulled it away, but I’m thinking it’s best if Hound thinks I am agreeing with Marcum. Which, most days I am, but today… he’s being an asshole.
“Rachelle!” Hound calls out and within a moment the waitress comes back.
“What’s up?”
“Give me your pen and ordering pad,” Hound says and that easygoing personality he usually uses with women is gone. The waitress does as she was ordered and Hound pushes it toward me. “Are you okay with being claimed by Marcum, baby girl?” he asks me, his voice dropping down and almost tender—but then, Hound has always been that way with me. I know he feels sorry for me, but that’s not all of it and he treats me like a small, frightened child… or maybe a China doll he is afraid might crack.
“You doubting my fucking word?” Marcum growls and his voice might have been steel before, but right now he sounds like he could slice through steel… shit, maybe melt it down.
“Toi and I go way back. I want to know she’s happy. If she is, then you and I have no beef. If she’s not… then we have problems,” Hound says easily.
They stare at each other for a few minutes. Marcum surprises me first.
“Tell him, Dragonfly.”
I frown. There he goes issuing more orders, like I don’t have a mind of my own.
“Here’s your pen, baby girl,” Hound says, pushing the pen and pad again. I start to reach for it and Marcum shows he’s an ass again.
“Use your damn voice, Toi,” he sighs.
“You’re an ass,” I hiss at Marcum. My voice isn’t like it was the other night but it is a little louder than earlier—probably because I’ve been resting it.
“Fuck. You can talk?”
“Guess you don’t go back as far as you thought,” Marcum smirks.
“Guess not. I have to wonder what other secrets you kept from me, baby girl,” Hound says and I don’t think it’s a good thing that Hound has me on his mind about anything.
“Keep calling her baby girl and I’m going to enjoying cutting out your tongue and serving it to my men for dinner,” Marcum tells him.
Hound almost smiles.
“You claiming this ass… Toi?”
“Most days,” I sigh.
“I didn’t know you wanted to be an old lady. Graves and I would have stepped up long ago.”
“It’s good you didn’t because I would have gutted you to get to her,” Marcum says and I get the distinct feeling he’s not joking.
“I’m not your kind of girl,” I tell them, elbowing, Marcum.
“All girls are our kind of girls. Some just take a little more work. You would have been work we enjoyed.”
“Would you like to tell me why you’re here, Hound, before my patience snaps and I kill you? Because I got to tell you, I’m not liking the way you’re talking or looking at my woman and the longer I sit here, the more I want to end you.”
“We saw your bike outside. Thought we’d pay a friendly visit,” Hound shrugs.
“I’m sure,” Marcum says. His fingers move back and forth on my arm, the rough callused pads of his fingers teasing my skin. I’m annoyed with him, but I can’t deny that I love his touch.
“Aren’t you a little old for Toi?”
Marcum growls, his body tensing up again. I close my eyes, because I’m probably the single most confused woman on the planet. Then, I take my hand away from his lap and link my fingers into his hair.
It startles Marcum, I know it does, because he turns to look at me.
“Apparently I like old cavemen who constantly order me around.”
“Like, Dragonfly?” he smirks.
“Most days,” I whisper, and then to prove I’m stupid as well as confused, I kiss him lightly on his lips.
