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“They’re not mine!” I growl, jumping to my feet and shoving past him to leave the room. There’s no way I’m stepping foot in there ever again. Especially because–among the wreckage of butt plugs, cuffs, whips, and glittery chains–there’s a very obvious nude polaroid of Wicked’s nana with an unknown male. One that was definitely taken far after her prime–both of their primes.
Nope. Not touching anything in there with a ten foot pole now. I’ll buy new shit and sleep on the couch. Consider it a sacrifice to whatever debaucherous gods that woman worships. They can keep it all. Put the caution tape up, call in the hazmat cleaners, burn the place down. I don’t care. I’ll be busy bleaching my eyeballs.
“Where are you going? I just came to ask what the plan was!” Kai follows me towards the kitchen, lowering his voice as we pass the rabid beast that’s claimed the living room.
I grab the closest bottle of scotch on one of the shelves and pour myself an entire glass before guzzling it down like I’m trying to forget my own name tonight. I am.
“It’s taken care of.” With those words, the doorbell rings, and I praise God that my work here is done. “That should be it. Feel free to take credit.” I try to walk past Kai, not really sure where I’m going to go, but he places a hand on my shoulder and stops me in place.
“Who’s at the goddamn door?! I swear to all fucking fuck sticks that I’m not answering it! They can go fuck themselves!” Wicked’s voice screams from the living room, sounding like something out of the Exorcist, and Kai and I both wince, stepping further into the kitchen as if to put more distance between us and the monster that has taken over the usuallymostlybearable woman who ensnared us all.
“No. You go. I’ll handle the quarantine zone mess. Go woo her, man. I think I’m just annoying the shit out of her right now.” He cringes and scratches at the back of his head. “My sister never really talked to me about period stuff. Even she hated my antics when she was on and avoided me like the plague. And Ezra? The man was so far up his own ass when he was with that chick, he never really learned any of that shit either. Help us, Crimson Tide-Kenobi. You’re our only hope.”
He pushes me towards the front door and I’m too busy trying not to spill my drink to fight him on it, I simply walk over and start disengaging the locks with my free hand as he retreats to the safety of Gizmo and Snitch’s rooms. Opening the door, I come to a stop when I see a man not holding any bags that a delivery guy should be holding.
“Who the fuck are you?” His bright blue eyes flash with irritation, his square jaw lifting slightly as he takes in my hulk style now-shorts and the glass in my hand.
“I’m none of your fucking business. Who are you?” I tighten my hold on my drink, sliding my other hand to the door frame and pressing the silent alarm button we hung behind the coat rack. If I don’t text the alarm company that all is fine in the next two minutes, officers will be alerted and sent our way. It will also text Ezra, Kai, and…unfortunately, Alan, that it’s been set off. Though that was set in place before we truly added him to the suspect pool.
No, we’re not fucking around with Wicked’s safety anymore. Even if I look like an idiot for pressing a panic alarm for a mere delivery guy.
After ensuring that the button is pressed, I move my hand to the back of my pants as slowly as possible, trying not to give it away, when he speaks again. “Where is Wicked?” He ignores my question asking who he is, in fact his gaze sweeps past me, dismissing me entirely. Luckily, right as he does so, Kai and Ezra both emerge from the rooms at a dead sprint, Gizmo and Snitch right on their heels as they crowd me at the door.
The blonde stranger in front of me backs up a few steps on the porch as we step outside with him, his eyes widening for a moment before hardening in resolve. “Back the fuck up. I’m just here to talk to Wicked. Where is she?”
“That’s none of your fucking business. Tell us who you are, or in about ninety seconds, cops will have this place surrounded.” My tone is hard, edged with a promise of violence and a dose offucking try meas I move to place my glass on the small glass table in the corner of the porch, not turning or giving my back to the man even an inch.
“Jesus, fuck! Just let me talk to Wicked! She knows me!”
“Emmerson?” Wicked’s voice is no longer possessed and enraged, but still not as calm as it usually is. In fact, it seems to be dipped in suspicion, which only has me stepping closer to the stranger, my hand tightening on the gun in the back of my pants.
“Who is this guy, Wick? Want us to get rid of him?” Out of my peripherals, I watch as Kai turns to speak to Wicked behind us, but I keep my eyes on the prize.Just say the word, baby. It’ll be my pleasure.
The guy's gaze flashes with irritation at the exchange, though I can’t pinpoint exactly what has him riled up, but he’s now eyeing the arm I have hidden behind me and Ezra’s massive frame as he stands next to me, blocking Wicked from his sight completely. Gizmo and Snitch, much to my shock, take up positions at my feet, standing on their hind legs and hissing at the guy.
If even they don’t like him, well…what’s there left to say?
I hear whispered conversation behind us and stand still, content to wait for Wicked’s decision, but the guy–Emmerson–is decidedly not so patient.
“Wicked! Just fucking talk to me!” He tries to step forward, but both Ezra and I stand straighter, dual growls leaving our throats at his audacity.
“Alright. Open up, guys.” Wicked’s tone holds no room for argument, but a frown pulls at my lips at the exhaustion I hear starting to surface. “Now, please!”
I step aside at the same time as Ezra and she moves forward to stand directly between us. Kai lets out a sigh of exasperation before walking around us all and finding a seat on one of the railings surrounding the large porch, his dark eyes filled with hate and something I can’t quite figure out.
“Em. What do you want?” Wicked crosses her arms over her chest as Gizmo and Snitch reposition themselves at her feet instead, making me just a little appreciative of their loyalty and love for our woman, but when one of them makes eye contact with me, he hisses, our short truce now officially over. I hiss back, earning a slap to the chest from the tiny woman beside me.
“What do I want? What doIwant?” The man’s fury seems to erupt like a volcano as he finally gets the outlet I guess he was searching for, so I start to angle myself in front of Wicked once more. “I want my fucking life back! That’s what I fucking want!”
“That’s not my fault!” She stomps her foot, unwilling to back down in the face of an angry man that could easily snap her in half. Not that he’s particularly ripped or anything, Wicked is just tiny. Yet, she faces him down and matches fire with fire, completely without fear or self-preservation.
Great. Now my cock is waking up to add to my frustrations.
“Like hell it isn’t! Because of you, my entire life is being ruined! I just got out of jail–jail–because of you! They showed up at my goddamn job to accuse me ofstalkingyou!”
“Not because of me, asshole! I can see right through you, or don’t you remember who I am? You ran like a little bitch when the detectives came to question you, acting all guilty and shit! If you had just answered their questions about our relationship instead of worrying about the joint in your pocket, you never would have been arrested. None of that is on me!” She’s practically screaming at this point, slamming her hand to her chest to emphasize her point, but my mind is stuck on one thing.
Their relationship?
