Page 72 of Midnight Curfew

The image of me giving him a blow job in his daddy’s desk chair will keep me going all week. God, he’s fun.

Once we’ve crossed the tracks, it takes no time to get to the visitor’s center parking lot. He grabs his phone out of the cup holder and looks at me. This would be the part where a girl would lean in for a kiss goodbye, even though I never initiate.

Callum just sits there, a smile playing on his lips, because this is the part where we turn back into two dudes who didn’t just fuck last night.

“See you,” he says, opening the door.

“See ya.”

I watch him through the windshield, rain starting to pelt his shirt and hair as he heads for his matte black M3, which he refuses to let me drive. It’s fine. He’s looked good driving it the two times I’ve been inside it.

But when he’s almost at his car, a man climbs out of the vehicle behind his, and it looks like Callum and I realize at the same time that his father just watched me drop off his son.

“Fuck,” I bite out.

Garrett Ames is in khakis and a cream-colored quarter zip like he’s about to golf. He walks up to his son, Callum immediately falling back a few steps. I watch Garrett start reprimanding him beyond my windshield, clear by the way he leans in and uses his hands a lot.

Callum glances at me, and I sit up straight, grabbing the door handle. Callum shakes his head at me, warning me off.

But I can’t leave. I’ve never been much for honor, but it feels particularly shitty to just drive off like a coward.

They continue to argue, and I roll down my window.

“I partied and crashed at their house!” Callum explains. “Jesus!”

Ames’s hand whips across Callum’s face, and then he grabs his son by the collar and throws him against his car.

I clench my jaw, tightening my fist around the handle. “Goddammit,” I bite out.

It’s none of my business.

It’s none of my fucking business.

Garrett bombards him with bullshit after bullshit, getting in his face and damn near spitting. I can’t hear what he says, but it’s obvious he’s tearing his kid apart.

Then…he grabs Callum’s groin, his son squeezing his eyes shut as the pain sears through him.

“Motherfucker,” I growl.

And I leap out of the cab, running.

I shove his fucking father away from him, placing myself between them.

“Don’t touch him again,” I growl.

Garrett stands tall, glaring at me as rain streaks down our faces.

He doesn’t come at me, though. He fucking knows better. If the Jaegers weren’t smart, we could make sure his body is never found. Of course, he’s not worth any risk, but he doesn’t quite want to push us, either.

Unfortunately, unlike him, I don’t know better. Macon’s going to hear about this, and we might lose some clients.

“Get in your fucking truck,” Garrett tells me. “I’m not paying for whatever he came to you for.”

I charge for him, but Callum is there, stopping me. “Dallas, don’t.”

He stares at me, our noses a few inches apart as he presses a hand to my chest. His eyes plead with me.

Garrett shoves his son toward his car. “Stay away from him,” he barks at me.