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“Chill, man,” I say carefully as Rocky lays on his back on the ground, his hands clutched around his ribs, groaning like he’s having bad sex. I return my attention to the little stoolie. “All you gotta do is put the word out. No critical thinking skills involved. Any info about these guys makes its way back to us, we’ll be very appreciative.”
“Let’s go,” Red grumbles as he stalks down the alley.
Rocky slowly climbs to his feet. “We gotta get him a girl.”
“He’s got girls.”
“Not the passarounds. A real girl. Like we have.”
I watch as Figaro scurries off. “Would be nice if the little weasel could dig up some info on who these assholes are.”
“Yeah. Sick of this bullshit,” Rocky replies as we head back inside the club.
First thing I see is Evanee sitting dutifully at the blackjack table but it ain’t empty anymore. She’s surrounded by pricks.
“Hey!” I shout across the casino. “Get the fuck away from her!”
Everyone looks up startled. I mean everyone, from the people on the slots, to the security, to the players at the tables. I’m all cleaned up for the date, but between my bruised knuckles and the blood on my shirt, I look like I could eat all of them for lunch. Don’t help that Red’s following me. Rocky’s disappeared. Has a play-date with Jess, I guess.
A beefy security guy steps in front of me. “Bring it down a decibel.”
“He’s gettin’ his girl,” Red snarls, his big hand spanning the guy’s chest as he nudges him out of my path.
“Cool, dude,” I nod at my brother in appreciation. I ain’t never had a bodyguard before but I could get used to it.
Red crosses his arms and glares at everyone.
Evanee slides off the stool she’d been sitting on and walks towards me like she’s a fashion model. “I’m his girl,” she says to the security guy with a seductive smile. I don’t think she knows how not to smile like that with men and I decide I’m gonna have to teach her. That fuckin’ smile should only be flashed at me.
“Let’s go,” I say to her. Red follows us out.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I tell him as he sandwiches himself between us.
“Taggin’ along. Got nothin’ better to do.”
Jesus, the giant is missing all the cues. “No, you’re fuckin’ not. Go back to the clubhouse. Fuck a passaround.”
He scowls as he pokes me in the chest with a finger. “See that right there – I get no respect.” He stalks off.
“And don’t you fucking be thinking about Evanee when you do it!” I yell at his retreating back.
CHAPTERSEVENTEEN
Trigger
Irub my face as I turn to Evanee. “What now?”
She brightens up. “Let’s have a picnic. Get some sandwiches, a six-pack of beer. Is there a place we can go where we can have some privacy?”
I don’t tell her about the sandwich I ate back at the brothel as I think about where we could go. Not the club for sure. A hotel doesn’t appeal. Then an idea occurs to me. The Jury’s auto shop will be deserted this time of night and there’s a cot in the back. I wonder why I didn’t think of it before.
We make a quick stop for a couple of subs, some chips, and the beer, then head over to the garage. I got a key for a reason I can’t remember, and hold Evanee’s hand as I haul her and the grub inside. Fuckin’ alone at last and I don’t give a shit about the food or beer. I flip on the lights, drop the bag I’m carrying and slam Evanee up against the wall, smothering every single gorgeous curve. I can’t believe I’m here, with her. This perfect woman who eclipses me and my world.
My mouth is on hers, my tongue frenzied, my teeth mashed against my gums. I want to crawl inside her.
“Trigger,” she moans as moves her face to the side, exposing her neck, which I go down on. My teeth nip everywhere, a trail of pain that my tongue soothes.
We grind into each other like teenagers, our hands on each others’ bodies, not gentle.
