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Dylan shrugs. “Took it with me to celebrate the good news. Guess bad news demands it even more.”
Unscrewing the lid, I take a sip. My eyes water at the burn, but then pleasant warmth spreads through my chest. I cough, take another sip.
“Shit.” I wipe my mouth on the back of my hand and give the flask back to Dylan. “What a fuck-ass way to start the day.”
Tyler perches on the armrest of the sofa, legs spread, and lets his hands hang between his knees. His dark hair’s growing longer again, falling in his eyes.
“He’s the executor of your aunt’s will,” he says. “And he didn’t notify you. That’s illegal. That should land him in big trouble.”
“You can sue him,” Zane says, his tall Mohawk cutting a fantastical shadow against the window and the morning light. “I mean, it’s not like he didn’t have contact with you or couldn’t locate you.”
“But a lawsuit could take months.” I reach blindly for the coffee mug, still in Meg’s hands, and she passes it to me. “Even years.”
“Or we go find the fucker and lay out the situation to him. Loser won’t know what hit him when he finds out we know the truth. Wham.” Zane slams his fist on his open palm.
“Lay out the situation.” I snort into my coffee. God, I want to crawl back into Meg’s bed, into her arms, and sleep for another week. “What, threaten him?”
Dakota and Erin are watching with wide eyes. Erin whispers something in Dakota’s ear and they grimace.
“We’d come, too,” she says, “but I kinda think the guys are more intimidating. We may spoil the picture a little.”
I stare at them. They’d come? Although I see what she means by spoiling the picture. Both girls are slender, tiny, really, dressed in flared skirts and colorful sweaters. They’re like china dolls.
Damn. Can’t believe what the guys are suggesting.
“Get dressed, fucker.” Zane turns his back to me and some sort of secret communication goes on between the three guys, because then they all turn toward me. “Let’s get this asshole.” He winks. “And congrats, you got yourself three bodyguards.”
“What the hell makes you think he’ll back off?” I want to throw the mug at Zane’s smug face, throw it at the wall, kick and smash and yell out my frustration.
But Meg is wrapped around me, her soft breasts crushed to my side, and an odd calm falls over me, like a warm quilt.
“Have some faith, man,” Tyler says. He stands slightly taller than the rest of us, his shoulders wider. “In us.”
In this brotherhood of pain and ink. Well, then…
“All right.” I put down my mug, hug Meg close one last time, and push to my feet. “Let’s go.”
***
“Be careful,” Meg whispers and stands on tiptoe to press a kiss to my mouth as I shrug into my jacket.
Her lips are sweet with the hot chocolate she was drinking, and I grab her and kiss her thoroughly, exploring her mouth, pressing her to me.
“Will you wait for me?” I ask against her mouth. Jesus, this isn’t the way I was imagining this conversation going down—more like pounding her into her until she screamed my name, and then bringing it up sort of subtly.
This isn’t subtle. Dammit.
But she smiles.
“Yeah.” Her voice is slightly husky. “I’ll wait.” She’s out of breath, and her eyes are so dark with desire and something else, something deeper, I crush her to me.
“Are you mine?” I whisper.
“I am,” she says softly, and man, curse Armin and his damn schemes for taking me away from this girl right now.
Despite throats being cleared around us, I kiss her again, long and deep until I’m sure her taste will linger, ground me, remind me she’ll be here when I return.
We finally pull apart, and she sends me another warm smile.
