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I throw him my brightest smile. “I would never fuck around on you, Trigger.”
Hangman stalks out of the office, down the hall, then back again. “I don’t like you,” he snarls as he points at me with a heavily tattooed finger graced with a huge gold skull ring.
Since it has never been my goal to be liked by everyone, I don’t feel his burn. However, I think it’s important that he thinks I think it matters that he like me. “I’ve never been good at first impressions, sir.”
“Stop callin’ him sir,” Trigger interjects aggressively as he leans against the wall on the opposite side of the room from Reaper. Trigger’s close enough to me that I inhale the oil of his leather cut, the faint smell of cigarette, and his musky attractive scent. He’s the entire package and I shiver inside.
Hangman, however, isn’t nearly as impressed. “I like sir.”
“I don’t. She’s gonna call anyone sir, it’s gonna be me.” He turns his glare on me. “Call him Hangman,” he commands.
I shiver and know my nipples have peaked. “Sorry, sir,” I say to Trigger in a sultry voice.
“Fuck,” they both say together while Reaper snorts a laugh.
Clearly, I’m going to have to take the reins on the conversation. “My name is Dr. Evanee Whittaker, but it would be my pleasure if you called me Evanee.” I grin at Trigger. “Although, you, handsome, can call me anything you want.”
Hangman tires of the banter. “Enough!” His command makes me jump and I almost let him have his chair back. If only I’d worn different shoes. “You fuckin’ listen to me.” He jabs the finger again. “I don’t care if Trigger has a hard-on for you, you don’t open a business in my town without my say so.”
He’s serious so I decide to be too. I turn the chair so I’m facing forward and lean my arms on the desk, clasping my hands. “Unfortunately, I wasn’t aware of that caveat and so I went ahead and opened the business without checking with you first. Having said that, like all new businesses, it takes time to get on one’s feet and frankly, I don’t see the point of paying for protection because at the moment, there’s no threat.”
I pause to give Hangman a chance to interject, but he offers nothing other than a stare of incredulity.
I take this as permission to carry on. “Even if there was one, what would I get for my money? I’ve not seen the paperwork for this so-called insurance, and as I already mentioned, I’m not turning a profit on the clinic, partly because I’m not set up for surgeries. I can’t do that until I have funds in place, and it’s been a trial trying to find investors that I’m comfortable enough to work with.”
“My heart bleeds for you,” Hangman sneers. “I don’t give a fuck about your problems.”
Trigger clears his throat as he pushes off the wall. His arms are crossed, his eyes are dark, and he straightens his back as he gets in Hangman’s face. “I do give a fuck about her problems, boss, so a little respect would go a long way with me.”
Out of the blue, Hangman punches him in the face. “You don’t come into my fuckin’ office talking about respect, you cunt.”
To Trigger’s credit, he takes the punch like the Hulk. It barely moves him, though it splits his lip. He wipes away the blood with his tongue. “I ain’t disrespectin’ you, Prez, but this woman is my happy ever after.” There’s no apology in his voice for the way he talked to Hangman.
Reaper throws back his head and gives a full-throated laugh. To me he says, “I hate to be the one to deliver the bad news, gorgeous, but Trigger’s idea of happy ever after is having three girls in his bed.”
Trigger looks like he’s about to leap over Hangman’s desk to get to Reaper, so I think it’s time to diffuse the situation. “As long as I’m one of them, I can live with that.”
My reply has the intended effect as all three men stare at me with varying degrees of interest. I uncross my legs, stand and demurely run my hands down my thighs to smooth the wrinkles out of my skirt. “Maybe you should sit down, sir.”
I slip out of the chair and press my back against Trigger, subtly pushing him against the wall. I grope around for his bandana perhaps longer than I should.
Trigger squeezes my biceps and whispers, “Now’s not the time, baby.”
“It’s always the time,” I tell him softly as I find the bandana in his back pocket, whip it out and face him, then wipe blood off his chin.
He slaps my hand away as he glares. “Don’t fuckin’ coddle me.”
Coddle him? He doesn’t know me if he thinks I coddle anyone. I don’t even fuss over babies. “This isn’t about you, Trigger. This blouse is a Tove original made from silk. It’s essentially irreplaceable and I am not about to let you bleed on it.”
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Hangman bellows at Trigger, bumping my hip and knocking my pelvis into Trigger’s groin as he slides by and throws himself in the chair. “If I knew you were gonna turn this into a shit show, I’d have sent Reaper in the first place.”
Trigger has a giant-sized man-penis that’s getting bigger by the second. “Jesus,” he exhales.
Reaper snorts at Hangman. “I know it’s my business, but I’m thinkin’ maybe you sent the right guy for the job.”
I move my hips back an inch as I take hold of Trigger’s face and inspect it. The bleeding has stopped and he’s back to his handsome self, so I turn to face Hangman. “I have an easy solution to our mutual problem,” I tell him. “I need more money and based on what little I know of your organization, your club could easily afford to invest in my business.”
I’ve never been uncomfortable with lengthy silences, but this time I subtly twitch. It’s too quiet, Hangman’s face looks like it’s one shade of red away from a heart attack, and Trigger’s grip on my upper arms hurts more than my feet do.
