Page 18 of The Complete Truth Duet
That woman was a natural disaster waiting to happen, and if I didn’t watch myself, I was at risk of being victim number one.
“I didn’t sign up for that shit,” I muttered.
“Relax. I already told you I’d take care of Cora.” He scrubbed a hand over his cheek. “No way she can resist a face like this.”
But it wasn’t his face that Cora would fall for. Drew was good with people, even better with women. All that wit and charm that had gotten him in so much trouble over the years was finally working in our favor.
What was not working in our favor was the way Cora had been staring at me all day.
Or the way my pulse spiked each time she came near me.
But that was a different story. One that would never matter.
“Though she seems rather fond of the ink. Either you need to invest in some long-sleeved shirts or I’m going to need to hit a tattoo joint.”
Desperate to change the subject, I barked a humorless laugh. “Is this before or after you get yourself killed?”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“You acted like a child today, pulling that shit with Dante.” I moved around the bar, bumping my chest with his. “I’ve buried one too many goddamn people in my life. Don’t make me do it again.”
All humor left his face as he suddenly paled. “Penn, man. I had that shit under control. It wasn’t a big deal.”
“It was to me. He put that gun between your eyes…” I shook my head. “We’re here to work, Drew. Not to pick a fight with a cracked-out pimp with a God complex.” I paused and locked my gaze on his, pleading just as much as I was demanding. “You have a job. I have a job. That’s it. Got it?”
He stared at me for several beats, a darkness brewing in his eyes. “You know I fucking got it, brother.” He went straight to the cheap fridge, which was a few inches shorter than he was. Sucking in a deep breath, he opened the door, and then, in true Drew fashion, the tension melted away.
“God bless your fat, perverted ass, Hugo,” he exclaimed, revealing a six-pack of horse-piss beer.
After tossing one my way, he cracked a can open and moaned when it hit his lips. He was on beer number two before I was on the second sip.
The hum of the fridge droned in the background until he finally broke the silence. “You gotta admit she’s a firecracker.”
Outstanding. We were back to Cora. Not that I’d forgotten.
“She’s crazy,” I mumbled.
“Oh, I don’t know. There’s something special about a woman brave enough to pin you to a truck just to say thank you.”
I became enthralled with my boots and tried to think of anything except for how soft her breasts had felt pressed against my back. And then I struggled to forget the desperation and fear in her deep-blue eyes as she promised me anything to protect that young girl hiding in the bathtub. When, truth be told, the minute Cora had whispered the word please, all I’d really wanted to do was protect her.
Lisa had been dead for four years and I could still hear her pleas echoing in my ears, every day and every night. I didn’t need to add Cora’s to that never-ending symphony of my failures. Yet I feared I already had.
Clearing my throat, I gave my attention back to Drew. “Any other man, that stunt could have gotten her killed.”
“I’m not thinking the woman’s real concerned with her safety. Did you see that bruise on her face?”
I had. And it’d lit me on fire. “Whatever. I just need you to keep her off my ass.”
“Apparently, after today, you mean that literally.”
“I mean that in every way possible. She keeps that shit up, it’s not going to be good for anyone.”
He tipped the beer to his lips, smirking around it. “I gotta admit, Penn. That shit being a smoking-hot woman getting all up in your space, plastering her fine body against your back? I’m not particularly feeling sympathetic for you right now.” He smirked. “But I’ll take care of it. In the meantime, you can take the bedroom. After two years in a cell, I’m not real eager to spend the night in another.”
I glanced down the hall. I hadn’t been behind bars for the last few years, but I’d been living in a prison all the same. That dingy eight-by-eight bedroom barely big enough to hold a nasty mattress wasn’t exactly the escape I’d been hoping for.
But it was better than going home.
Penn
Just as I’d suspected, rest was nowhere to be found that night. Though I’d often heard that sleep required a flat surface that didn’t make a person fight the urge to gag, which was exactly what had happened each time I’d so much as thought about Hugo’s disgusting mattress. No amount of sheets, blankets, or plastic wrap could convince me otherwise. So, after I’d spent hours cleaning, sweeping, and mopping, I’d stood the mattress up against the wall, retrieved the sleeping bag that lived under the seat in my truck, changed into a pair of sweats, switched the lights off, and settled in for some heavy-duty staring at the ceiling. It was midnight and I’d made it a solid five minutes without losing my mind before Drew came knocking at my door.
