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“I don’t wear bifocals,” King mutters, but it’s lacking heat because they’re now both bent over my phone, looking at the corpse of Shower Guy.
King straightens to look at me. “What did you hit him with?”
“Yeah.” Nero moves the photo from side to side, still zoomed in, like he’s looking for clues on the floor. “There’s no blood under him, just in that hole.” He points to the spot just left of the man’s sternum. “So it’s not like you used a bazooka on him. That would’ve gone through.”
“Sometimes you just gotta stick with the classics,” I tell them, then slide the brass knuckles out of my pocket.
King’s brows raise. “Seriously? Who even has brass knuckles anymore?”
Nero reaches out and takes them from me, sliding them onto his own hand, then looking back down at the photo. “So you put these on, then wallop the dude in the sternum until what, the ribs crack off and into his heart?”
“Someone knows his biology.”
Nero clenches his fist around the knuckles. “I know how to kill people.”
“What a surprise,” I deadpan.
Nero grunts. “Can I keep these?”
“Fuck no.” I open and close my hand in agimmegesture. “Your slender little fingers don’t even fill it out properly.”
King snorts.
“Slender?” Nero rears back, offended. “Just because I don’t have big-ass sausage fingers doesn’t mean mine are slender. You fat fuck.”
King laughs this time.
I just shake my head. “Jealousy is an ugly color on you, Nero.”
I’m far from fat, and Nero is far from little, but I’m the thickest guy here.
Nero grumbles something under his breath as he pulls the brass knuckles off his fingers and slaps them into my hand.
I’ve worked with these guys a few times before, but it’s never had the comradery feeling like this. They may still be mad about me finagling my way into The Alliance, but they seem to be treating me as though I’m one of them.
Sliding the metal into my pocket, I type out a quick text to Rob, then drop my phone in the other pocket and lean against the large island.
“Hey, Angel,” I call across the room to Valentine, but all four women turn their heads my way. “You want a drink?” If no one else is gonna offer my lady a beverage, I’ll do it.
Her mouth opens, then closes, like she’s not sure.
“Come on.” Savannah herds the little group toward the kitchen.
My eyes stay on Val as she approaches me. And my chest swells when she comes right to my side, standing next to me.
I run my palm over her hair, loving that she left it down. “What’d you like?” I hold up my beer. “Not sure what they have, but this is pretty good.”
“Umm…” Val leans into me while Savannah opens the fridge.
Savannah starts naming options. “There’s beer, chardonnay, Bailey’s. I know there’s some red open somewhere.” She leans back to look past King to see what’s on the counter. “I think there’s some bourbon.”
“Any chance you have ginger ale?” Val asks quietly. “That plane ride was kinda bumpy, and I’m not sure my stomach has recovered yet.”
The side of my mouth pulls down. It’s always a little rough landing by the mountains, but I didn’t think it was that bad.
“You should’ve told me,” I say quietly.
Val lifts a shoulder. “It’s not that bad. But alcohol just doesn’t sound good quite yet.”
