Page 25 of Altered By Lead (Undercover Sinners 2)
"Seriously?" West asks with a bit of a scowl, swiping his tanned hand over his handsome face. "What is it about him that does it for you?"
"Ready and available," I snap back, and then start for the staircase without waiting to see if the other two are following me. They will, I'm sure.
Mace is downstairs when I hop off the last step, ponytail swaying. He gives the three of us a look, his lips parting as if he might say something nice. Or real. Or anything at all.
He closes his mouth again, and I frown, moving past him and purposely bumping him with my elbow. He grabs onto my upper arm with one of his huge hands, dark blue eyes boring into me when I glance his way.
"We should talk soon," he grumbles, surprising me, his voice seeming to shake the foundation of the old house. When we first got here, I was certain the place was haunted. Now that I've been here a while, I'm not so sure it isn't ... "I'll do my best to occupy Hawke while you're gone."
I pause, and then without thinking, end up putting my hands on his huge arms. Lifting up on tiptoe, I kiss the corner of his mouth.
His eyes widen slightly, and his jaw clenches, but he doesn't return the gesture. Instead, when I whisper thank you against the side of his neck, he just grunts and then pushes me back a step. But there’s a tautness to his movements, a barely concealed fury and need.
And he says he wants to talk. That’s a good sign, right?
Colt ushers me out the front door, and down the fairly precarious front stairs. All around us, there's nothing but blackness, just a sea of ebony dotted with stars above. Not too far off, I can hear the sound of the river. Pretty sure Hawke said it was called the Rogue.
There's a car nearby that I don't recognize, some pretentious sports car that has me dripping before I even lay a hand on the hood.
"You own a Porsche 911?" I ask, mentally calculating the cost in my head: a fuckload. A few Russian curses slip past my lips as I spin to face Weston, his smirk visible only when he hits the key fob and the car revs to life, lights included. "You guys make enough to afford something like this?"
"We make okay money," Colt says, but I have no idea what 'okay money' means, or even what the actual cost of living a normal life is. That's how sheltered I've been. "But since we don't pay for food or lodging or medical care or any of that shit, we can burn it all. West likes to burn it on cars that he can fuck pretty girls on and in. Sometimes I even borrow those pretty cars and fuck them on or in it, too." He flashes a bright smile at me and then nods his head toward the passenger side. "Sit on my lap, Tzarina?"
Seeing as there are only two seats, what choice do I have?
I shrug, like I'm not excited at all by the prospect of sitting on Colt's lap, like Arsen didn't leave me sans-orgasm and totally desperate for release.
"You were driving a Challenger before, right?" I ask, and West's jaw clenches.
"Yeah," he says, the muscles in his neck and shoulders tensing as he climbs into the car and watches Colt pull me onto his lap. "But Arsen got jizz all over the steering wheel, and it just wasn't the same after. I sold it and upgraded with that bonus we just got."
My eyes narrow, even as I adjust myself on Colt's lap and feel him grunt underneath me. It's a tight fit in here. My head is hitting the ceiling, and I practically have to cuddle Colt to make this work.
"What bonus?" I ask, and the boys go suddenly quiet, sharing a look that I'm not supposed to see.
"Ah yeah, about that ..." Colt starts, gritting his teeth slightly. "Hawke has yours. He said you'll get it when and if you pass the test."
That son of a bitch!
"Let's go," I say, feeling a sudden surge of adrenaline. "I want to party hard tonight. I deserve it." This last bit is muttered under my breath, and I cringe a little. I sound a bit like the old Natalia, the whiny princess who always got her way. But I brush the feeling aside, and enjoy the purr of the engine, and the hot heat of Colt's body beneath me.
We roll quietly away from the house and down the road a bit before West bothers to rev the engine and send us flying through the darkness. It takes damn near a half hour to reach a bar, and even then, it's this ridiculous wood cabin looking thing on the river. White lights highlight a floating dance floor, showing off the people in cut-off shorts and flannel grinding on one another.
