Page 31 of Altered By Lead (Undercover Sinners 2)
"Here, I can help," I offer, as Weston struggles to haul his friend’s dead weight up the front stairs. I hook a shoulder under one of Colt's limp arms and between the two of us we manage to drag him through the front door and drop him onto a moth eaten couch.
"He can sleep it off here," Weston murmurs, propping Colt's feet up and tucking a pillow under his head. Lastly, he drops a scratchy, crocheted blanket over the top of him. "Come on, I have vodka in my room." My brows shoot up and a lazy smile curves Weston's lips. "Unless you're done partying for the night?"
I snort a laugh. "Lead the way."
Weston has a bit of swagger to his walk as he heads up the stairs, and I follow without hesitation. I don't even flinch when I feel a pair of furious eyes burning holes into my back from the darkness of the kitchen, or when I hear the clink of ice in a whiskey glass.
Fuck Hawke and his bad mood, I'll deal with that shit in the morning when I'm hungover and I already hate the world.
"Hey, how come you get a bigger bed?" I demand, pausing in Weston's bedroom doorway and frowning at the massive, new bed dominating most of the room. "What the hell, dude? I've been sleeping on that saggy ass piece of shit with a spring digging into my back and you—" I break off, shaking my head in disbelief.
"What?" Weston gives me a funny look, grabbing an unopened bottle of vodka from the bedside table and twisting the cap off. "Why didn't you order a new mattress on Prime? That was like the first thing I did when I arrived the other week."
He holds the bottle out to me and I snatch it, taking an indignant swig. "Remember that chat we had about my granny panties?" I run my tongue over my lips, enjoying the lingering burn of alcohol in my throat. Weston nods, but his gaze is totally fixed on my mouth. "So if Hawke can't even buy me underwear to fit, why would he deign to order me a new mattress?"
West's brow creases. "Good point. We're going to fix that for you tomorrow."
"Hawke's attitude?"
He snorts a laugh, taking a sip from the bottle and handing it back to me. "I wish. No, I meant your wardrobe. And a mattress too, if you want."
My brows raise, and I take another swig of vodka before replying. "Why?"
"Because Hawke's being an insufferable prick and you deserve better, Natalia. You've proven your loyalty and worth to this team so what he's doing now is just channelling his own frustration. It's not fair and it’s not healthy."
I lick my lips again, feeling the pleasant numbness of intoxication spread through me. The tequila back at the bar hadn't even really touched me, but a few big mouthfuls of vodka is hitting me in all the right places.
"Well, thanks West," I murmur, peering up into his coffee brown eyes.
His gaze is hot, full of lust and desire, so it's no surprise when he moves closer and bends his head to kiss me. What probably is a surprise, is how I turn away right at the last second and leave his lips to brush my cheek instead.
"Harsh," he whispers, laughing slightly and not moving away. In fact, his hand tangles in the back of my hair—I'd lost my hair tie somewhere during my fight with Axel—and his body presses closer to me.
I bite back a grin, enjoying my little power play. "Sorry, West. Not interested."
He laughs again. "Liar."
I don't even try to hide my smile this time, but he doesn't hold me back when I slide out of his grip and create some space between us. It just so happens that means I'm practically sitting on his bed.
Fuck it.
"Is that what you brought me up here for, West?" I ask him, not annoyed so much as curious. If I hadn't known about their dumb fucking bet, I'd have already jumped right on his dick. But knowing they intend to play with a whole lot more than my body, that they want to mess with my heart, it's soured the whole thing. To cover the distaste at that thought, I take several more gulps of vodka.
He turns to face me, cocking a pierced brow for a moment then narrowing his eyes.
"The thought crossed my mind," he admits, "but do you want to know the truth, Natalia?"
I give him a look that says, "of course I do, dumb fuck."
A small smile plays across his lush, pierced lips. "I wanted to test a theory."
That isn't what I'd expected.
"Oh?" I'm nervous now, and hoping he can't see the tremble in my hand clutching the vodka bottle. "What theory is that?"
He takes two steps closer to me—because that's how little room there is between his door and his huge ass comfy mattress—and takes the vodka from me to sip himself.
