Page 89 of Filthy Feck


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She was a live wire, flaring and hissing, and me being a moron, I was just begging to be burned.

But maybe that was how we’d work—I didn’t need to dull that spark.

Who better to stand by her side than a man who loved playing with electricity?

“If you were trying to seduce him, then why did you try to kill him?”

Okay, it was hard saying that out loud, even if I understood why.I was possessive.That was a trait that had been bred into every O’Donnelly in our family tree. I couldn’t share her. Not in that way.

The thought made me grit my teeth.

Would she do that in the future? Try to use her body to get information?

No. I wouldn’t let it get that far. If she needed information, I’d crack the fucking Pentagon to get it so she never had to put herself in danger again.

I breathed easier at that game plan.

Being proactive was better than nothing.

She peered at me from beneath long lashes. “Because he pissed me off.”

I had to laugh. “That’s enough to kill someone?”

“He told me that it was my past that made me deadlier than my mother.”

My eyes bugged. “Well, damn, that was just asking for it.”

She made a gesture with her hand. “Who was I to disagree with him?”

I pondered her situation for a moment. “Temper is a Brother. Honestly. Whether you believe anything else I’ve said, believe that. She’s a fucking bitch too.”

Her nostrils flared. “I’ll deal with her later.”

That shouldn’t have filled me with satisfaction but it totally did.

“I told her that she’d regret betraying you.” My smile turned smug. “It was the only thing that shut her the hell up.”

She huffed. “She does like the sound of her own voice.”

“Affirmative,” I groused. “She said something, though, that made me question shit.”

“What?”

“It’s something Kuznetsov said later too. They stand for law and order. Or, at least, they believe they do.”

“Then why is there so much injustice?” she grumbled with a pout.

I didn’t have an answer and, to be honest, I was more focused on not touching her than anything else.

That pout.

I shoved my hands into my pockets.

Since the moment I’d walked through the goddamn door, I’d been fighting those urges.

Being attacked with a chair should not have led to an erection, but fuck if I could tell my cock that she wasn’t play-fighting.

Still, she looked at me expectantly.

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