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I texted Ham, telling him to get his ass home, but he didn’t respond—fucker probably really did think I’d boned Blondie. The idiot.
No way was I equipped to deal with her in this state, so I shot off another SOS text. All this one said was, I need you. My place. Now.
Thirty second later, an answer came back: Be there in five.
I couldn’t help it, I grinned. But, shit, it was nice to know she would come to me in the middle of the night, just like that, no questions asked.
True to her word, Caroline knocked on my door damn near five minutes later.
I craved seeing her so hard that I wondered if I had called her because she would be the best person for Blondie right now, or the best person for me. Oh, well. Too late to matter now. She was here, and both Blondie and I were going to get a nice, healthy dose of her.
I ripped the door open, and a relieved breath of air seeped from my lungs. Damn, why did it always feel as if I was holding my breath until I could see her again?
She’d come fresh from bed. She hadn’t bothered to comb her hair or even pull it into a ponytail. It looked as if some fucker had been fisting his hands in it all night. Her T-shirt was huge and looked like something she’d probably snagged from her brother, and definitely like something she would sleep in. And her pants were plaid flannel. My mouth watered. I wanted to just invite her to crawl back into bed—my bed—and cuddle with me. Okay, more than just cuddle, but I could live with the cuddling stage for a while and working our way up from there.
Jesus, why did she have to look so damn good?
“What the fuck are you wearing?” I demanded, making sure there was plenty of accusation in my voice. Couldn’t let her know how much I loved her looking like this.
She scowled at me and stepped inside. “Pajamas. You know those clothes people wear in the middle of the night when they’re sleeping?”
I snorted. “Never worn any.”
She snorted right back, narrowing her eyes. “Figures.”
“Seriously.” I motioned to her clothes. “Where’s the slinky, tight, slutty clothes? What if this had been a booty call? Please, God, at least tell me you have a matching bra and panty set under there.”
“I don’t even own a matching bra and panty set. And I knew this wasn’t a booty call.” She tossed me a dry glance. “There was no reason to bother dressing up.”
I scratched my hair, confused. “Then why the hell did you think I was calling you?”
“I assumed you’d accidently strangled one of your whores to death, or something equally kinky and awful, and you needed help disposing of the body.” She yawned and glanced around. “So, where is she?”
I stared at her, touched. “Would you really help me bury a body?” That was so fucking sweet. If Gamble ever gave me his blessing to bang his sister, I’d be all over her so fast. “There is no dead body, by the way.”
She scowled, looking confused. “So, if there’s no dead hooker for me to help bury, then why did you call me over?”
From down the hall, the bathroom door came open. Caroline lifted a curious eyebrow, so I tipped my head that way. “For her,” was all I said.
Caroline moved to the opening of the hallway—God, I even liked watching the way she moved—and peered down it just as Blondie, decked out in Ham’s baggy clothes, ducked her head hesitantly out at us. Her face was blanched of so much color it made the red bruise sprouting on her cheek really stand out.
I hissed a curse under my breath and balled my hand into a fist.
Caroline covered her mouth. “Oh my God. Zoey?”
The two girls rushed toward each other, hugging tightly. If it were under any other circumstances, I might’ve gotten a little excited about watching them come together so eagerly, and I totally would’ve cracked a threesome comment. But then Blondie ruined the possible eroticism of the moment by bursting into tears and sobbing all over Caroline.
Fuck. Poor kid.
>
Caroline lifted her face to sear me with a fierce stare. “Who did this?”
“Caine Fucking Belcher,” I said. “He had his hand down her pants when I caught them together. He would’ve...you know, done that R-word to her if I hadn’t stumbled across them.”
Blondie shuddered and started gagging. I winced for making her relive that moment again by bringing it up. She burrowed deeper into Caroline, and Caroline petted her hair and murmured soothingly into Blondie’s ear before looking up again.
“Belcher,” she repeated. “The same guy who was passing around naked pictures of Aspen?”
