Page 12 of Making Choices

“In what way?”

“In the you scratch my back; I’ll scratch your back way.”

“You want me to hurt someone for you?”

The upward tilt of her generous lips transforms her features from traditionally beautiful to otherworldly. I shift from one foot to the other as her smile hits me straight in the dick. Bebe’s creamy skin takes on a pink hue and her emerald-green eyes light up. She inclines her head like a banished queen who’s just declared war on the enemies who stole her land.

“Yes,” she says in a silky tone that belies the malice in her request. “I want you to break Jack’s right arm and his fingers, and I want you to let him know that it was me who had you do it.”

“Why?”

“Because he deserves it. He’s taken advantage of me one too many times, and I’m sick of being forced to cop his abuse, just so he won’t use his position to hurt my future prospects.”

“You’re not one of us,” I warn her. Bebe meets my declaration with a shrug. “A favour like this comes at a cost.”

“Name it.”

“You’ll owe me a marker.”

“Better you than Jack.” Bebe’s perfectly sculpted eyebrows lift as she laughs. The sound is evil. Cold and calculating. She’s definitely more of a Maleficent kind of woman than the Princess Aurora type I’d pegged her for earlier. “Tell me what you want and we can consider this deal done.”

I don’t know whether to be in awe of her depravity or mildly alarmed by how easily she’s discussing hurting her boss. At least, now, I understand her weird behaviour. The woman saw an opening when the Shamrocks stumbled into her life this afternoon.

She just wasn’t sure how to take it.

“That’s not how it works, doll.” Bebe frowns when I use the pet name I gave her earlier, but she refrains from telling me off for it. “We don’t agree to terms or anythin’ right now. A marker is a favour. A promise. Sometime in the future, when I need somethin’ from you—it could be small, it could be inconvenient as fuck—whatever it is, you’ll receive a call with a job from me that you can’t refuse. If you don’t come through, then I’ll make it my mission to destroy your life.”

“That’s bullshit.” Her hands drop to her hips. “I’m not agreeing to anything when I don’t know the terms.”

“Then Jack stays in one piece and you can continue fendin’ him off in empty hospital rooms.”

“Dammit.” The tiny woman actually stamps her foot and I suck my lip piercings into my mouth so I don’t laugh at her tantrum. “That’s unfair.”

“Nah,” I tell her with a shake of my head. “That’s the cost of doin’ business with the Black Shamrocks MC.”

“Fine.” Bebe holds out her right hand. I take it. Our size difference is such that my hand swallows hers. My fingers curl around her wrist with ease. Even so, she is the one to initiate the handshake that seals our agreement. “We have a deal. You’ll break Jack’s right arm and fingers bad enough that he can’t operate for at least six months, and I’ll owe you a marker to be called in at your discretion.”

“Deal.”

Green eyes that hold a tiny glimmer of insanity meet mine a second before she declares, “Deal.”

Her crazy calls to the carefully concealed psycho in me.

Until now only one woman has had that effect on me…

Mentally shaking myself, I force my appreciation of Cherub’s wild ways out of my head.

“Deal,” Bebe murmurs a second time.

This time her tone is sultry.

Full of promise.

Determined to suss out her true intentions, I brush my fingertips over the pulse point in her wrist. Her heart is racing, and I don’t think it’s just from the exhilaration of having her revenge on her handsy boss. Bebe tilts her head to one side, and I watch her pupils blow out as she correctly reads the desire in my expression.

While I wait to see what her next move will be, she keeps her gaze locked on mine.

Her lips part.

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