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“What was that?” Layna asked, turning back to face the others.

“I heard a rumor once that when he cleans a scene, like if a woman shoots an attacker in her bedroom, and he has to get rid of the body, he always redoes the room all nice for her,” Hope said. “Nicer than it was before even.”

“These are kind of nicer than the ones I made,” I admitted.

“You know what I heard about him?” Hope said.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“He’s with that woman who did that true crime podcast. Polly? Or Patty? No.”

“Poppy?” Layna asked, mouth falling open. “Crime Time with Poppy? I loved that podcast. That’s a strange couple.”

“Those are usually the best kind,” Vi said, shrugging.

“Oh, shit,” Dezi grumbled, coming out of the prospect room wearing boxers and his cut. And nothing else. “It’s early for all this pretty,” he said, shooting all of us that boyish smile of his.

“Just out of curiosity, how did you end up in a cut without a shirt?” Vi asked, smiling at him.

Dezi’s hand went to his stomach, patting it. “Can’t deprive you ladies of all this,” he said.

“Yes, how would we ever survive without all that manly goodness?” Layna asked, walking up to him, resting an arm on Dezi’s shoulder.

“You’re trouble, pretty girl,” Dezi said, shaking his head.

“Oh, sweetheart, you have no idea,” she said, eye-banging him. No one, in my opinion, could casually eye-bang a man quite as well as Layna. Even when she was just toying with someone like she was with Dezi.

“You know,” Dezi said. “It seems like they are loosening up the rules about club members and princesses. I mean, first Andi, now Billie. I might—“

“Not a chance, Dezi,” Layna said, pressing a kiss to his temple.

“You’re breaking my heart,” Dezi said, pressing a hand to his chest.

“If it helps at all, Gracie is on her way in with pastries.”

“That does help,” Dezi agreed, eyes brightening.

“It’s a sad day when my charms can be replaced with apple turnovers,” Layna said, shaking her head.

“Baby, if your apple turnover was on the menu, we’d be having a different conversation,” Dezi said, making a slow, surprised smile tug at Layna’s lips.

“I was told you had a way with the ladies,” Layna said, turning back to face him. “One of my cousins said you bagged a half a dozen chicks one night. All at once.”

“Ah, yes,” Dezi recalled. “Nearly suffocated under that pile of women,” he said, eyes sparkling.

“You have more competition now, though,” Layna reminded him. “What with Valen being back. And that grumbling psychopath with the very ride-able beard,” she said.

“Hey, my beard is ride-able too,” Dezi insisted, reaching up to rub it.

“Yes, it is, buddy,” Layna said, patting his shoulder.

“Sure, sure. Drool over the new guy,” Dezi grumbled. “Gracie still loves me, don’t you Gracie?” he asked as the woman in question moved through the front door with two big boxes of pastries and a tray of coffee in her arms.

“Oh, my God, Dezi, you don’t have to lay it on that thick. I always give you the first pick,” Gracie said, out of the loop.

“Dezi here is a little put-out about the new guy being a panty-dropper,” Layna said, taking the tray of coffee from the stack.

“Voss?” Gracie asked, grimacing. “I mean, if you’re into big, scary guys, I guess so.”

“You don’t think I’m scary?” Dezi asked, shoulders slumping a little.

“Oh, you’re terrifying,” Gracie affirmed in an appeasing voice as Dezi opened one of the boxes and took out a cheese Danish before moving off toward the kitchen.

“He actually is,” Hope said, shrugging.

“What?” Layna asked. “You never think anyone is terrifying.”

“Well, he is. Voss is outwardly scary. Dezi is a big, sweet puppy dog ninety-nine percent of the time. But that one percent? He’s like a rabid dog left off his chain. That’s scary. Like a Jekyll & Hyde sort of thing. I mean, I was driving home from work one night and he was street fighting with a Long Island Iced Tea in his hand… and a smile on his face. He thrives on violence as much as he thrives on partying and fucking.”

“Partying and fucking,” Danny said, coming out from Fallon’s room in one of his shirts that came down mid-thigh. “Are we talking about Dezi?” she asked. “Hey, how’s your head?” she asked.

“My head?” I asked, slow blinking at her.

To that, Danny let out a laugh. “Oh, the sex must have been good if you forgot all about getting whacked in the head with a pipe,” she said, smirking.

“Oh, right,” I said, reaching up to touch my head. “But, yes, it was,” I added.

“Good for you. I always got repressed, but highly capable vibes from him,” Danny said, taking a coffee Gracie offered to her. “How’s your dad taking the news?”

“He’s having a talk with him right now,” I said.

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