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Lock tilted his head. “Is he?”
“Yeah, he… I…” Her shoulders slumped. “I guess I don’t know for sure.”
“We don’t know what he’s planning or what he’ll do the next time he sees you.” He gentled his voice to a comforting tone in a way he never knew he could before becoming responsible for an infant.
“Oliver wouldn’t hurt me. He’s annoying and clearly makes terrible decisions, but he wouldn’t knowingly hurt me.”
Lock held back his laugh of disbelief. “Brenna, he sent you here knowing he was short cash, knowing what some men might do in that situation.”
He saw the moment the light dawned, and she realized exactly what it meant for Oliver to send her there. “Oh shit. I was… payment. To make up for not having the money. He sent me here thinking you’d use me and call it even. Do you think he’s lying about being out of town?” Her voice reflected the shock she must be feeling. “He could be home right now, sitting on his couch and patting himself on the back.”
Fuck, the world was full of shitty people.
Thank God he caught himself before he permanently fell into that category. Hopefully, he could keep it that way.
“You were,” he said with a solemn expression. “And we want to make him believe his plan worked.” The hard truth sucked, but what other choice did they have?
“Oh shit,” she said, pressing a hand to her stomach. “You want him to think you’re keeping me as some kind of collateral until you can find him and do whatever it is you’ll do to him?” Spec opened his mouth as Brenna lifted a hand. “I don’t want to know any more.”
“Fair enough.” Spec smirked. “You in?
“W-will you kill him?”
Spec laughed. “A dead man can’t pay me.”
“Right.” She nodded. Lock could almost see the gears turning in her head as she tried to process this quickly. “And I’ll be safe? From him and… anyone else?”
From you guys. She didn’t need to speak the words—her guarded expression said it all.
“Swear it on my fucking life.” Spec tapped two fingers over his heart. “You are not a prisoner. We’re just going to make him think you are.”
Brenna sighed. She tipped her head back and stared at the clear blue sky, exposing the long line of her throat. It’d be a fucking treat to lick from the fluttering pulse in her neck to her tempting mouth.
“Fuck,” Brenna whispered. The one word, filled with frustration and indecision, pulled him from his lustful musings. “Okay, fine. But once this is over, I never want to see any of your faces again.”
“Deal.” Spec clapped him on the back. “Good thinking, Lock.”
The praise washed over his battered soul. He’d made it another day without slipping and had added value to his club. Overall, a win.
Next, he had to make it through the night so he could add one full day to the sobriety tally. Tonight would be a particular challenge because he’d be babysitting a gorgeous brunette who had his dick working for the first time since he started getting wasted on the daily.
It’d be hard.
Fuck, it already was.
CHAPTER THREE
WHEN SHE’D ENVISIONED herself sandwiched between two men—that one time she had a stray threesome fantasy—the experience hadn’t been anything like this. Following one biker in her little red coupe while another rode his motorcycle behind her, probably to ensure she didn’t go rogue and try to flee.
Sexy.
Not that she knew much about sexy these days. She and Oliver hadn’t exactly been setting the sheets on fire. At first, she’d assumed his lack of interest in tearing her clothes off was his personal issue. Maybe he had a low sex drive or couldn’t settle after a demanding day at work. Who knew? But it turned out he’d reserved that part of himself for Becky.
And Kendra.
And Marley.
And she was pretty sure Jaclyn made the list of women he’d slept with—the college-aged barista who’d been serving them lattes every weekend for the past year.
