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Emma is trying hard to contain the situation. “If you’re hungry, Ben, I can get you a plate.”
How she manages not to kick this motherfucker out on his ass is a testament to her patience. It’s probably also a testament to how much she loves these kids.
He pulls his lips back and displays a set of yellowing teeth. “I don’t need a fuckin’ plate. I need that damned piece-of-shit car to work properly.”
Emma’s eyebrows knit together. “What happened now?”
He grunts and moves to the fridge. “Fucker died on me again.”
“Ben!” she hisses, lowering her voice. “Stop cursing in front of the kids. And take that car to the mechanic while you’re at it.”
“I’ll talk the way I wanna fuckin’ talk.” He snatches a can of beer from the fridge. “I’m a grown fuckin’ man. As for the damn car, I don’t have the fuckin’ money to—”
My chair scrapes loudly as I push back from the table and stand. Emma and Ben turn to me at the same time. My hands clench into fists, just like Josh’s, and for a moment, the desire to use them is tempting.
But Ben and Emma aren’t the only ones who are watching me. Reagan, Caroline, and Josh are staring at me with wide eyes. And everyone is holding their breaths.
I look right at Ben, trusting that he can read the threat in my eyes even if I can’t say what I want to say to him. “Where’s the car?”
He blinks stupidly. “What?”
“The car. You said it died on you. Where is it now?”
He clears his throat to hide a burp. “Oh, right. Yeah. It’s parked out on the curb.”
“Then let’s go take a look. Lead the way.”
Emma’s jaw drops. “Ruslan, you don’t have to do that.”
“It’s not a problem. I used to work on cars for a living.” I throw Ben a murderous glance before I make my way into the living room. Emma says something to the kids in a gentle voice, but the actual words escape me. I’m too busy imagining all the ways I could beat the shit out of her asshole of a brother-in-law.
I’m almost at the door when Emma catches up with me. “Ruslan!” Her hand floats over my arm, but she snatches it away before she actually touches me. “I’m so sorry about him. The car’s a piece of junk, though. It has been dying for a while. You don’t need to—”
“If I stay in this apartment with him for a second longer, I will punch the fucking stink right off him.” Her eyes widen for a moment, but then they soften. “Let me go down and look at the car. Okay?”
She nods reluctantly. “You’ve never actually worked on cars, have you?”
“Why do you look like that strikes you as funny?”
She lets out a soft giggle and shrugs. “I just never pegged you—the great Ruslan Oryolov, big bad Bane Corp. CEO—as a grease monkey. Did you also wear grease-stained jeans and muscle shirts? Did you have a mullet?”
I narrow my eyes. “What if I did?”
As her eyes run up and down my tailored pants and designer shirt, she bites her lip. I wonder if she knows she’s doing it. If she’s aware of how magnetic her attraction to me is—and vice versa. “I’m having a hard time imagining it. Do you have any pictures?”
“None that you’re ever getting your hands on.”
She laughs. In my face. If we weren’t in her shoebox of an apartment with her three little dependents and her one big inconvenience in the very next room, I’d throw her over my knee and spank that juicy ass of hers until it’s raw.
“Anyway,” I say, clearing my throat and my head at the same time. “I know my way around an engine.”
“Can I come?” We both turn to find that Josh has managed to sneak into the living room without either one of us noticing.
I glance at Emma. She looks conflicted for a moment. Then her shoulders sag and she nods. “If Ruslan says it’s okay.”
In answer, I hold the door open for him. “After you.”
Josh doesn’t say a word as we walk downstairs. He doesn’t say a word when I pop the hood and take a look at the smoking engine, either. He just stands off to the side and watches me work.
