I was going to lick his cock.
The quality of this restaurant's security cameras wasn’t total shit, and Daddy had found himself a table that gave me an unobstructed view of all his features.
His nostrils flared every time his chest collapsed, and the harshness of his jaw made me wonder if I was looking at his angry face. My uncertainty irritated me, and I wanted to call him and ask but he didn’t know I was watching him.
Not yet.
Strong, tattooed fingers wrapped themselves around the stem of a fancy water glass. He lifted it to his lips, but just before he took a drink, I saw them start to move.
Daddy’s shoulders were forged of muscle, and the wideness of them robbed me of his companions' face.
It pissed me off.
Leaving Daddy on my main monitor, I swept my gaze to the secondary one on my right and clicked through the security cams until I found another visual of his table. With a couple more clicks, and an adjustment of its angle, I’d be able to discern who was…uh oh.
The ferocity of his stare made sense now, and I didn’t have to question whether or not he was wearing his fury face.
Ezra.
He was Daddy’s brother, but they didn’t like each other the way Thea and I did. Their revulsion toward one another weaved itself through each of Daddy’s bones, and I could almost feel the flames of rage and disdain as they burned across his body.
He should just kill him.
My fingers were orange with cheese puff dust, and I licked them clean as I watched the two of them move between arguing and acting as though the other had dropped dead. A few minutes went by, and when Daddy finally stood, I assumed he was going to leave.
Wrong.
Over his shoulder, I found his mother approaching him. Her thin arms were outstretched, and she had a smile on her face that made me think she was going to pinch his cheeks. I liked Ruth because Daddy did but I also thought she was probably the reason Ezra didn’t have a bullet hole in his head.
I counted on my computer to supply me with answers. Ialwaysfound the answers, but I was only ever able to speculate over the cause of Daddy and Ezra’s feud. It prevailed as a mystery.
I didn’t like mysteries.
Irritation tugged at my stomach, and I scratched my arms while I watched. Blood broke through the surface of my skin. It was warm as it dribbled down into my palm.
With narrow eyes, I counted each twitch of Daddy’s jaw and each flex of his fingers. When he bit down on his lip, I pretended I was in his lap, biting down on it for him. I replaced the rage in his eyes with lust and imagined the way his lips would taste laced with whiskey and violence.
My muscles shook.
My hands flapped.
My hair felt too tight against my scalp, and I decided I didn’t like the way this felt—longing.
I didn’t want to miss him.
Time moved slowly, and my skin was so itchy, I thought maybe I’d just jump through the screen and force his gun into his hand when he stood.
Finally.
My skin vibrated as I watched him move through the aisles of the restaurant like he was thunder searching for his lightning.
My pulse felt funny against the edges of my neck, and my eyes felt a little bigger as I clicked through live feeds, following him out of the restaurant and onto the street. From the inside pocket of his jacket, he produced a little white ticket and thrust it at the chest of a man wearing a vest.
Daddy's hands clenched as he waited for his car, quivering and tensing at his sides as though he wasn’t certain what to do with them.
Me.
Touch. Me.