AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Oh my God, Duke. . . .” She latched her hands onto his hair, buried deep, and gripped the thick strands, certain she meant to pull his mouth from her.
Wet heat surrounded the tip, sensitizing it further, opening a pathway straight to her clit as the pull and tug of his mouth sent sharp bursts of heat to torment the flesh between her thighs.
“Oh sweet baby Jesus. Really!” The sharp, male disgust that suddenly punctuated the air had Duke jerking back even as he quickly pulled her shirt back over her exposed breast.
Natches stood at the entrance to the sitting and sleeping area, his back to them, hands on his hips, his head lowered to stare at the floor.
Angel felt her face flame with mortification.
“Moron!” She slapped at Duke’s shoulders with both hands, struggling to extricate herself from his hold and regain her footing.
This was horrible.
Dear God.
“Doesn’t anyone know how to knock on a damned door?” Duke muttered, releasing her as she struggled to straighten her clothes and cool the heat burning in her face.
She couldn’t believe this. And no doubt bigshot Mackay would go tell his wife, wouldn’t he?
“I knocked!” Natches turned back to them, his green eyes brilliant with outrage as he stared from her to Duke then finally settled on glaring at Duke. “I even called when I entered.”
“The fact no one answered should have been your first clue,” Duke snapped.
“Yeah, to get my damned rifle,” Natches retorted, his tone grating. “She”—his finger stabbed in her direction—“is a Mackay daughter. For God’s sake, Duke!”
“I’m a what?” She was the one outraged now. “The hell I am. Get a grip, Natches.”
“The same as,” he snarled. “The same as my daughter.”
Angel stepped back, nearly reeling as her eyes widened.
“For God’s sake!” She blinked back at the older man, then blinked again.
He was serious.
“If he tries to slap my ass in a convent, I’m going to shoot him myself,” she muttered to Duke. “I need to find reality for a minute. Get rid of his ass while I’m gone.”
Turning, she looked around desperately and settled on the bathroom. Ignoring the twinge in her leg she stomped to the door, stepped inside, and slammed it furiously.
A Mackay daughter? Give her a fucking break.
She ignored the ache in her chest, the envy, and the times she’d wondered what it would be like to have a father . . . a real father like her sister had.
Sh
e didn’t need a father, she told herself furiously as she stepped to the sink and turned on the cold water. She was a grown woman, a mercenary. A killer. It was too late for a father. . . .
• • •
The second the bathroom door slammed, Duke turned back to Natches and his head exploded.
When he was able to shake the stars from his gaze and make sense of what happened he found himself flat on his ass staring up at Natches in shock.
“You just hit me,” he accused his cousin, rather amazed that it had happened. As well as at the force behind it. “Son of a bitch.”
Jumping to his feet, he made certain to put plenty of room between him and the other man as Natches rubbed his knuckles with his other hand, satisfaction filling his face.
“I should have shot you,” Natches grunted, his voice irate. “What the hell were you thinking?”
