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I’m not the type to complain to management, and I wouldn’t in this situation if I were. It’s clear they’re shorthanded and working their asses off. It’s jerks like myself that choose to eat here that are causing all of their problems.

“Fred!” the guy behind the counter yells into the microphone.

“Fucking finally,” I mutter as I approach him.

He nods at me.

“My drinks?” I ask, wondering why they don’t have the fucking machine out here so we can get them ourselves, but this tired fucker doesn’t make that decision. He’s probably questioning why he got out of bed to come to work today.

“Shit, sorry, man.”

He checks the receipt in my hand as if people actually lie about what they got and turns around to make the drinks.

I’m able to clasp one in each hand and still keep a hold on the bag as I walk toward the door.

“Fuck, sorry,” I grumble when I nearly run into someone.

I freeze a second too long before I can get myself under control at the sight of Nash standing in front of me. He finishes throwing his trash away, giving me a smile.

“Hey, man,” I say, calm and cool, like I would any other time now that I’ve come to terms with him being right in front of me.

It says a lot about my level of distraction that he’s been in here the entire time, and I never noticed him. He doesn’t seem like he suspects anything. We’re only about ten minutes from the Mission Mercenaries’ office, so it’s not completely out of the realm of possibility for him to be here right now.

He follows me outside.

“I gave up on trying to find that girl. I think the cartel is somehow involved because nobody is fucking talking. Cortez is able to keep everyone silent with just threats these days. It’s not often they have to prove just how powerful and evil they are.”

“I came to the same conclusion,” I say, wishing the guy would just back off.

“Got company?” he asks, staring at the two drinks in my hands.

“This fucking heat,” I say without missing a beat. “Can’t fucking stay hydrated.”

“Saw some pretty fucked-up shit, tracking the Severino family.”

“Tried to do a little research myself,” I say, balancing one cup on the rail edge of my truck so I can open the driver’s side door. “Wasn’t able to find much which says a lot.”

He hums his agreement. “We need to get together sometime. Maybe another guys’ trip to the beach?”

“I doubt Liam would go now that he’s locked away with that woman of his.”

“We could invite Fox.”

I glare at him.

He chuckles as if I’ve told a joke. “Yeah, maybe not. That guy fucking scares me. Maybe the new guy?”

I tilt my head. “I’ve been on vacation from work. Haven’t met the new guy.”

“Come to think of it, he may be crazier than Fox. Soulless fucking eyes, man.”

“Just call me if you come up with a plan. I’m always ready to sink my toes in the sand and drink a beer.”

I wave at him as he backs away, praying the fucker doesn’t really call me. We aren’t exactly friends. We were both acquaintances of Liam and met through him, but I’m not really a person who spends much time with others. I prefer solitude more than anything else, plus, I have an issue waiting back for me at the safe house that can’t be explained easily.

I consider that my luck is changing as I hit every green light on the way back to the house.

The air inside makes me sense a change, and my jaw nearly hits the floor when Madelene walks out of the bedroom completely naked.

I’ve done my best to avoid her since crossing that line in the bathroom days and days ago, but I’ve never not been aware of her.

“Mads,” I breathe, knowing she’s playing some kind of fucking game.

I haven’t asked her to pay for a damn thing since eating her delectable pussy.

“You’re the only one that has ever called me that,” she says, leaning her shoulder against the bedroom doorframe. “I’ve always been Madelene. A few kids in elementary school tried to get Madi to stick, but it never happened.”

“You need to get dressed,” I snap, forcing the drinks down so hard on the table I’m surprised it didn’t split the Styrofoam cups. “I’m not playing that game any longer.”

She doesn’t say a word as she walks up, causing me to take a step back. She sifts through the bag, grabbing her food before backing away. She doesn’t find that damn dress of hers, but it’s almost as damn appealing as the sight of her bare flesh with the way it teases her thighs, the strap falling off her shoulder, reminding me she doesn’t have a bra here to wear.

“I have to pay you,” she says as she crosses the room. “Is this payment enough?”

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