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“That was years ago when we were just starting out. It taught us a valuable lesson. No quotes without terms and conditions.”
“Yeah. Yeah.” He waves me off again.
“I’ll take care of the reporter. You do what you do best.”
“Yeah.” He glares at me. “What’s that, little brother?”
“Cassie!” I smile and dodge out the door before the stapler he tossed my way makes contact with my head.
Chapter 7
I walk up to the unkept house Lix’s address led me to. The hum of music bellows from the partially opened door. I lightly tap the scarred wood with my knuckles. The knock cracks it open farther.
“Hello?” I push the door all the way open and enter.
The music, a late nineties metal band, grows louder as I walk through the empty house. It draws me to the living room.
Lix stands in a dark T-shirt with goggles dangling around his neck. Head bent, he has his palms placed on the table, the only furniture in the house. His instant-burning blue eyes lift to mine.
My heart beats harder, faster than the tempo of the heavy metal music. Whenever I’m around this man, it’s as if my heart enters an endurance race, testing my durability and strength.
I stand entrapped in the heat of his eyes. It lingers all around me. In me. What am I doing here?
He’s dangerous. Not only because of his past but also by the way he jump-starts everything inside me whenever I’m in his presence. The wheels in my body spin uncontrollably, lacking any brakes, emergency or otherwise.
His muscular forearm stretches to his cell without releasing me from his powerful view. The music lowers, but my heartbeat remains quick and unsteady.
He returns his palms to the table, peering up at me beneath thick dark lashes. “You’re looking at me like I’m your fifth shot?”
The comment shakes me to find my coiled tongue. “Excuse me?”
“You know.” He stands to his full height. “You’re at the bar, staring down at that fifth shot.” He walks around the table in jeans that perfectly fit his well-upholstered body. “And you know if you drink that fifth shot, it’ll make you feel good.” He advances toward me, stopping two feet away.
When judging the threat at any distance—foot, inches, and even a breath away—precision is always necessary when it comes to this man.
“But you also know you’ll regret it later.”
“Are you accustomed to comparing yourself to liquor?”
“No.” His lips tug into that boyish grin. “Honestly, it’s the first time.”
I’m not about to play his games. “Why am I here?”
“To fulfill your interest. You wanted to see what I do?”
“This isn’t new information.” I toss out my hand, glancing around the room. “I know you and your brothers own a construction company. An internet search reveals that. But I didn’t know you remodeled old homes like this one.”
“This is a side job. Something else I do to stay out of trouble.”
“Do you find yourself in trouble a lot?”
“It varies day to day.” His grin advances into a smile. “A past client of ours asked me to strip this place. That’s what I do. I’m the demolition man of our operation.”
“So you demolish things?” It sounds about right. He’s destroying my ability to remain objective about him.
“Not always. I assess the structure and decide if it has good bones, but to do that, I must remove any barriers.”
“And how do you do that?”
