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Ipush my hand through my hair as I lean against the wall of the elevator, on my way up to the apartment fucking Hendrick’s put our little thief in.
Part of me wants to say it’s to keep her from me, but that fucker knows it isn’t going to happen. She’s going to fuck me again and again, and I can’t wait to come down her throat in front of him.
But not here, and not right now.
For one, he’s not here. And for another…
I’m here for other reasons.
MG called like he said she probably would, and like some kind of fuckwit, here I am. Though I’m no one’s lapdog, this thing’s bigger than all of us in a way, and like him, I don’t trust her, not even if she’s calling me to take her to the fucking fundraiser.
The elevator doors open, and I’m met with the hot and angry gaze of MG.
“The least you could fucking do is greet me properly,” I say.
“On my knees?”
I ignore the sharply sweet sarcasm and look about. “Something like that.”
“Not in the mood.”
“That’s a fucking lie. Those pert nipples are all erect under that tight shirt.” I frown. “Shouldn’t you be dressed to the fucking nines?”
I carefully ignore the bruise on her face. For one, Hendrick killed the guy, and for another… I don’t have another. Just there’s not a handy person around to take the anger the bruise stirs in me out on.
And I’m more than aware I’ve left bruises on her. Sex bruises taken a little too far, but… “This boring shithole’s very Hendrick. At least the prick fucks you like he’s not entirely bland vanilla.”
“I like fucking him.”
“You like fucking me.”
She flashes a nasty little smile. “No one said I was perfect.”
I push my hands into the pockets of my trousers. MG’s a little pale, her blonde hair pushed into some kind of mess of a ponytail, and she’s wearing that fitted top and tailored pants. I think I like her in dresses more. It’s the fucking access. And I do meanfucking. “Why are you so annoyed, anyway? You called me, remember?”
“On Hendrick’s orders. It’s getting late. He hasn’t returned…” MG pushes out a breath. Turning, she goes into a study and I follow. There’s some booze so I help myself. She takes the drink and shoves the burner into my hand. “Look.”
“It’s your friend. Leaving that store of hers.” I flick my gaze at her, knowing exactly why she’s showing me. “Which, by the way, I haven’t fucking demolished looking for my necklace, the one you owe me for.”
I ignore the fact she gave back the money.
“Jac—”
“Look.” I rub a finger over my left brow as I hand the phone back. My damned cock’s not used to restraint. And I’m being a fucking saint here. One gifted in the art of physical restraint. “These fuckers are going to try and unnerve you, light a fire under your fucking fine ass. Whatever. But they’re not hurting her or anyone. You’re smarter than this, MG. Think about it.”
She downs my drink, and I get another glass, pouring another bourbon. I’ll give fucking Hendrick this; he likes quality. Not splashy expensive shit. Quality expensive shit. This isn’t an over-the-top priced drop, but it’s small batch, exquisite and I’m grudgingly impressed.
“Being cooped up and under lock and key isn’t my jam. Being told what to do isn’t either.” MG pins me with a dark look. “The fact they’re there, following, is more than enough.”
“Both Hendrick and I have eyes on her. Guns.” I stop, start again. “Protection with guns. And I’ve personally sent in help. A sales girl, and one who’s helping with research.”
She gives me a narrow look.
“You’re not digging into shit?” I ask.
“Not your business.”
I take a swallow step away and study the rings on my right hand. “You know I’m really fucking trying here, MG. Trying my hand at not being a murderous bastard. Trying my hand at not fucking throwing you to the ground, gripping your hair, and making you deepthroat me like I know you want to.”
