Chapter 54
Brody
Ipull into the garage and get out of the truck. In the other parking space, a tarp is on the ground, which makes my life of crime easier. Standing on the blue plastic, I strip down to my boxers. I roll up the tarp. I’ll need to get rid of that.
In the house, my pace stalls as I head toward the pantry door. I think to tug my beard, but it ain’t there nae more. I stop at the closed door, clicking my tongue. Should I shower first?
Unfamiliar feelings wash over me. Justice is here, safe, tucked away. Had I not kept her here, would she have been an easier target? I undo the padlock and open the door.
“Finally, you ass.” Justice looks up from her seat on the ground, back against the wall. Her mouth widens. She sucks in air. I reach a hand out to help her, and she takes an even more audible influx of oxygen.
“I’m gonna shower. Ye up to join me?”
“What happened?” She accepts my assistance, coming to a stand. “Are you okay?”
“Ye care?” My eyebrow lifts.
“Of course.” She does it again—gasps loudly, running her hands over my jaw and along the splatters on my forearm. “Are you—”
“Nae! I’m not fecking okay. Ye made a promise last night, Justice—”
“We-we are not talking about that right now, Brody. What happened? Oh, no.” Her hand runs along my chest. I glance down to see a gash. Adrenaline had shot through me earlier. The dead lad had done a fine job.
“You’re hurt.”
I connect gazes with her vibrant brown eyes. “I’m pissed. At ye.”
“Whatever, Brody. We’re even.” She chews her bottom lip, attending to the wound. I move her prying fingers, clasping her arms and bringing her against me.
“Brody,” she says between tangling her tongue around mine. “You’re hurt.”
“The man who crossed me ain’t breathing. I’m good. Actually,” I grab her arm, bringing her flush to me, “ye hurt me. How should I punish ye?”
With the desire to get away, she jiggles her arm. “I’m walking out of this creepy pantry, Brody. Where is your first aid kit?”
I stand my ground.
“Do you have a first aid kit? Why must I repeat myself? You get to go apeshit after reiterating, should I?” Justice yanks again. I snatch at her until her arse presses against the wall. My hands dominate her wrists above her head, exposing her huge tits. With a groan, I burrow my face there.
“Brody,” Justice pleads. “You have blood all over you. Mmmmm. Stop. At least let, ouch! You biting my nipple is not okay, not unless we’re screwing.” Pooling all her strength, she tries to bring her arms down. With ease, I hold her hands up and nibble on the sexy fat melon, running my tongue over her pert nipple.
“You’re crazy.” She groans low in her throat. “This is crazy. Oh, my—we need to talk about me being locked—ouch! Shit, you make me insane.”
Scraping my teeth over her breast, I suck the tiny nub into my mouth, grazing over it again.
“Oh, Brody . . .” I lift her, planting her succulent thighs around my waist, and grip her arse.
In my arms, she looks up at me. “We still need to talk. I still need to mend your wound.”
“Which one?”
“The one on your chest. Keep at it. I’m blaming you for all my threats to leave.” I hustle up the stairs.
Squeezing her arse, I say, “Long as they’re just threats.”
I head into the bathroom, planting her onto the counter between the two sinks. As I wash my hands, Justice hops down from the ledge. I give her the look that a dog would give when ye step in their territory.
“I’m grabbing towels. Stop intimidating me.”