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Our job is simple—be backup for Ellie and Dominic and then follow Harvey once they leave. We don’t believe that Harvey will lead us anywhere exciting, but we can never be too careful.
I half wonder why we don’t just kill him and get this entire thing over with. After all, I know Dominic doesn’t hold any affection for the man who birthed him—unless you count raw, unfettered hatred and fury as affection. And we know, without a shadow of a doubt, that Harvey is not only a member of POP, but also someone who actively participates in what we now know to be human trafficking. We killed other POP members for lesser offenses just this past week.
But Landon made a point earlier today when he reminded us that Harvey appears to be higher up on the metaphorical food chain than any of the others we’ve killed. Not only that, but he seems to be actively recruiting Dominic to join the ranks. And if we can get Dominic into POP as a spy…
That’ll be a game changer.
Maybe we’ll finally find the smoking gun to end the Paragons of Prosperity once and for all.
The ringing of my burner phone interrupts my internal musings. Zane grabs it before I can and puts it on speaker before settling it in the cup holder between us.
“What’s up, homie? It’s ya main man, Stabby Boy, coming at you live from the street outside Harvey Rollins’s—aka Soon To Be Dead Man’s—house.” Zane says all that in his best “radio announcer” voice.
I snort. “You’re fucking ridiculous.”
“Any updates?” Landon asks, not bothering to acknowledge Zane.
“Ellie and Dom are still inside,” I respond. “And El texted us about twenty minutes ago to tell us they were eating dessert.”
“I know what I’d like to have for dessert,” Zane murmurs under his breath, and a rush of heat cascades through my veins, settling in my cock, which still hasn’t gotten the memo that this is not the time for erections.
Never in my wildest dreams did I think I would be okay with watching my girl with another man. Hell, I never even wanted to have a threesome before if one of the parties involved was a man. My father repeatedly calling me a “gay fag” broke something inside of me and made me hesitant to even show casual affection for another male.
I know I’m not gay—I know that—but I’ve been conditioned from a young age to believe that anything less than peak masculinity makes me less of a man. It’s why I always received savage, brutal beatings from my father whenever he discovered me designing new clothing in my sketchbook.
But fucking hell. I can’t think of anything hotter than seeing my girl fall apart on two separate dicks. It makes me wonder what other things we can get up to.
Like a cock in her pussy, and another in her ass…
A cock in her pussy, a cock in her ass, and another in her mouth…
Maybe a cock in both of her hands…
I don’t suddenly want to fuck Zane or anything like that—and despite his teasing, I know he doesn’t want to fuck me either—but I wouldn’t be opposed to more, er, sandwiches in the future.
As long as Ellie is the delectable meat.
Goddamn. I’m starving now.
“I have something I need to discuss with you guys,” Landon says. “Hold on a second while I add Ryker to the call.”
“Are you pregnant?” Zane deadpans, and I snicker.
“How many weeks late are you?” I add.
“Do you know the father?”
“Is it a boy or girl?”
“Did you get tested while you were at the doctor’s? You know what they say about remembering to use a condom…”
The two of us break into laughter as Landon clicks his tongue and mutters something that sounds suspiciously like “fucking children.”
Zane’s laughter cuts off abruptly when a dog barks down the line. My best friend screeches—the noise reaching a decibel not meant for human ears—and attempts to climb out of his seat. Of course, the dumbass forgets that his seatbelt is still in place and is immediately tugged back to his seat.
“Sorry.” Ryker’s rough, raspy voice comes down the line. “Frodo, behave!” This is no doubt directed at the tiny dog Ryker and Ellie unofficially adopted.
Zane uses his pointer finger to draw a cross in the center of his chest, then looks up at the ceiling, as if praying.
