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And if he listened closely, really closely, he thought he could hear the sounds of pleasure coming from the boat beside his. He’d moved from his place beside the Nauti Boy after Kelly moved in with Rowdy. He’d parked the Nauti Dreams on the other side of Dawg’s boat instead.
There was no place left to move to avoid the late-night whispers of passion and pleasure that sometimes flowed from the two boats.
He slouched further in his chair and stared out over the lake from the upper deck of the boat and considered his options. There weren’t a lot.
He was sure sick of bullets chasing him, though, sick of toting a sniper’s rifle, and sick to damned death of the lovey-dovey kissyfaced shit going on around him. His two cousins and their women, monogamous and proud of it.
He finished his beer at the thought of that, then opened another. There wasn’t much danger of getting drunk; he didn’t keep the hard stuff on the boat, so that kinda canceled out becoming oblivious.
Hell, he could move into town. There was an apartment over the garage, and he was spending more time there anyway. Anything to get away from the monogamous bliss settling in on the back side of the Mackay docks.
He breathed out roughly. They weren’t the hell-raising, high-living, hard-loving trio they used to be. The Mackay cousins were no more.
And that made for a very, very lonely night.
