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The bar’s dark, and the girls are doing their thing on the stage. While I could do with a drink, I don’t because with so many people here, I need to stay as sharp as I fucking can. Keep an eye on Mia.
She’s talking to someone, and my first instinct when the burly man touches her arm is to crush him, but she isn’t bothered by the touch. So maybe that’s also why I want to crush him. Her not being bothered, is a lick of heat with an edge, something with a greenish tinge I vaguely recognize.
Mia nods and shifts, and the man drops his hand. She knows him, and he respects her, so I guess I’ll let him live.
And then there’s Frank. The one she suspects is supplying drugs.
I cross my arms as I lean against the wall.
There’s something about him I can’t put my finger on, something that’s dark and the wrong kind of danger. It’s not overt, but I’ve spent years studying people, ever since I lied about joining the military when I first went to work for the De Lucas.
Years and years and in so many situations that other men would have ended up dead.
I’ve learned to read people, and sniff out the lies and those who are hiding things.
Frank’s hiding something.
Even if I didn’t know he was too clean on paper, I could tell there was really nasty dirt clinging to him.
The fucker’s beady eyes are on Mia when he doesn’t think anyone else is looking.
The perv Andrew’s gaze is also on her, but his is different. There’s a spark there, like a heartbeat.
Actually, I don’t mind Andrew. I’ll kill him if needed, if he touches my property wrong, but yeah, he’s loyal.
Mia . . . she worries me on a certain level.
She’s too in control, tied tight. Everything that happened, fuck, I don’t care how strong she is, things like that make an impact. Cut deep, cause the kind of wounds that fester. But she’s also something like I’ve never seen. And while I’m not a therapy guy, I’m glad she has someone to talk to in that way.
At first, I wasn’t into the idea. But Blake sat me down, shoved the squalling baby Rocco in my arms and told me point blank to stay the fuck out of that part of Mia’s life. That Mia needed therapy.
My little fucking sister acting all grown up when I’m the one responsible for her happiness. I threw her and Theo together.
But she told me she goes to a therapist over what happened. And Mia . . . that was worse.
I sigh, watching how she moves, her limbs long, supple breasts perfect, I can tell. And I haven’t even seen them. Yet.
She knows I’m there. She knows my gaze is on her.
And we both know she’s sans panties.
Is my cum on her thighs?
I shift. I need to stop thinking such shit because otherwise, I’m going to have a problem.
Suddenly, she turns and crosses to me, her smile fading with every step, and even in the low light of the crowded bar, her cheeks grow pink. That lovely rose color.
I look at her as she stops. “Couldn’t resist?” I give a cocksure smile. “It happens. Women—”
“You’re disgusting.” She pokes me in the chest, and I catch her hand.
“Say that again.”
“You heard me.”
I pull her into my arms, turning her and wrapping an arm around her waist, anchoring her to me. “I did. And you’re right. A disgusting pig, y’know, with one thing on my mind, and that thing is all about you and me, and you maybe on your knees.”
“Can you not grind your erection into me?” She wiggles, and I bite the side of her throat.
