Chapter 13
Brody
I’m lacing my steel-toe boots when there’s a soft knock at the door. Nae prediction necessary. My dick’s quest is on the other side of that door. I run a hand over my clean flannel shirt with a smile. I’m refreshed, showered, and conditioned my beard. Justice’s voluptuous body is about to be added to my collection. This snake has slithered through her defenses.
“Aye,” I call out. Play nice—endgame in sight.
Justice hesitates at the door as if she anticipated me on the bed, fisting my cock and beckoning her to climb aboard. The yellow sweater cuddles her close, bringing out the warmth in her dark skin.
She whispers, “Hey.”
Feck. That fearful voice. I’ll have to beat the sweet voice out of her before I cum too soon. I’ve plans for the likes of Justice Flowers, such as rattling her brains loose once I get my handson her. I’ll need her screaming because that soft voice will unravel me.
“Ye enjoy breakfast?” Why do I ask? I’ve never cared about a female in my entire life. I remind myself, in the greater scheme of things, my efforts will pay off.
“Very good. Your little brother, Cam, is an amazing chef. I’m, uh, about to head out. To your brother and Chevelle’s house.”
Damn, it dawns on me how it’s high time I return to my life too. I need to visit Erika at the hospital. Plus, I have to gain Da’s forgiveness for not including the clan when Leith was a stubborn bawbag, dealing with his own issues.
I need to go home. A couple of miles from here, I’ve my own five-bedroom house in Lakewood. It’s a model home that don’t look shite different from the two before or after it on the same cookie-cutter block. I bought the house because it’s not too far from my parents and my job at MacKenzie Freight Lines. It was a sound investment. And a silent, fecking torture chamber, now that I come to think of it. The house is a place that none of my clan has visited since I’m always on the road or a clan mission. I fecking hate that place—my home.
“Och” is all I can muster.
“We probably won’t see each other much. Seeing how I’ve been friends with Chevelle since she was pregnant with Mia, and we never crossed paths.” Justice wrenches her fingers together. Her demeanor is that of prey, aware of impending danger. She’s standing. I’m sitting leisurely here and still own all the power.
Or do I have all the control? When and how did Justice have this effect on me?
The most primal part of me craves her. A frown drops into place on my lips as I reply, “Nae. Chevelle never invites me to shite she hosts. Leith only has family dinners occasionally.” Feck their invitation. I want first rights to ye.
Justice’s gaze exposes her longing. “So, we won’t see each other much, Brody. Unless . . .”
I get up, ready to pounce. My prey sucks her luscious bottom lip into her mouth as I loom over her. A frown settles on my face. My hostile gaze threatens her to say the words I’ll never ask her. Unless wit? I like the sound of my name exiting those pillow lips, yet she rarely says it. The sound of her realizing how far apart we will be unleashes bitterness through my veins. I glower at her. Unless wit? I don’t waste all this time on ye not to taste the reward between yer fecking thighs.
“Unless . . . I tell Chevelle you’re a good guy.” The tiniest smile plays at the edges of Justice’s lips. Her purity is an earth-shattering reminder of how she’s awakened something in me that has never existed. “Nevertheless, Chevelle will have to believe that lie.”
“Aye. It was always meant to be a lie.”
Justice’s voice lowers, and she says, “Brody. Do you have the acting chops to play the good guy for longer than a day? Or would you rather apologize for whatever you did to piss her off?”
Agony crosses Justice’s face when I shake my head. “I’ll not be apologizing to Chevelle, nae. It’s the principle.”
“What principle?” She snaps.
“She’s fecked up too. Didn’t understand clan loyalty, far as I’m concerned. This very week, for instance, Leith had to keep secrets. She’s skittish about guns.”
Damn, Justice might see through the lies. I said that I’d helped her for Chevelle’s sake. Feck my bràthair’s wife. That may have been the motivating factor from the start. But that loyalty to Chevelle was clan loyalty. Nothing more. If bullets went flying and Chevelle needed saving, I’d be obligated, and the lass would’ve had to apologize to me.
Justice’s nose wrinkles, and her fists curl under. “Why can’t you be civilized? Damn, ahem, I mean, Your brother Camdyn said that. So, why can’t you?”
I paw my beard, giving her a pointed look. Don’t ever talk outta turn to me, lass. She submits, lowering her gaze for a moment. A couple of beats later, our eyes lock. A connection neither of us can explain settles between us.
“I’m sure you’re well versed in lies and manipulation,” she murmurs. “Just pretend.”
“Lie?” I lift a brow, and the desire in Justice’s eyes might as well be the lass begging me to lie to her.
My thumb settles along her cheek, running over the crease of a smile, of hope, of wishing. She craves this.
“Nae, I pretended to be the good guy yesterday.” She sucks on air while I dole out a stubborn dose of truth. My forehead drops to hers. My eyes are on hers, testing her to push away. I drop my gaze to her lips, offering her another chance to escape. C’mon, lass, I’m the bad guy.