Page 65 of Wife Number One

“I didn’t even know that until last night, and I’m her sister.”

I glanced up over the top of the box of teabags, an uncomfortable awkwardness settling over me. Why the fuck did I know this was Kara’s favorite tea? Rebel’s scrutiny was pissing me off. “Well, maybe if you were a better sister, we wouldn’t be having this conversation, huh, shrimp?”

The insult had the desired effect. She stopped worrying about why I knew Kara’s favorite drink and snatched it from my fingers. “You’re such a prick.”

“I’m well aware.” It irked me to watch Rebel make the tea I’d found and carry it out to Kara, but her having it was the main thing.

Kara took a sip from the steaming mug and glanced up in surprise at her sister. “You remembered it was my favorite.”

Rebel glanced over at me and opened her mouth to say something.

I cut it off before she could announce it to the whole fucking room. “I’m going to talk to the cops.”

I shoved the door open with my shoulder, and it was only when the cold early evening air hit my bare skin that I realized I still didn’t even have a shirt on. Fucking hell. I’d been so focused on Kara I hadn’t even noticed until she was out of my line of vision.

War glanced over at me when I approached the little huddle he had going on with the two cops, as well as Aloha and Ratchet. He frowned at the way I was rubbing my arms. “Go get a hoodie or something.”

But there was no way I was going back inside and having everyone stare at me because Rebel had blabbed about me finding tea for my patient.

That’s what Kara was. Someone I took care of because nobody else here had a scrap of medical knowledge or interest. Nothing more.

Despite the fact I’d let her watch me jerk my dick until I’d come all over myself.

That had nothing to do with her, and everything to do with making someone else feel as shitty as I had in that moment, after realizing I’d fucked up my GED.

Rebel was right. I really was a prick.

“I’m fine,” I told War.

He rolled his eyes and pulled off his jacket, handing it to me. “I know you love your abs, but you can’t go down to the morgue like that. Put it on.”

I shoved it back at him. “I’m not going to the morgue.”

War raised an eyebrow. “The cops need Kara and Rebel to go down there and ID the body. You think I’m letting them go down there unprotected with Kara’s whack job of a husband hunting her down?”

I screwed up my face. “Send Fang!”

War narrowed his eyes at me. “Why are you fucking arguing with me about this, asshole? I am sending Fang, as well as you, Ice, and Aloha. If that really is Alice dead on that table, then it means someone is really pissed off about them leaving. Kara just became our number one priority, and she doesn’t go anywhere without protection.”

I gawked at my prez. “Are you joking? She’s not even one of us!”

He straightened his shoulders and lowered his voice. “She’s Rebel’s sister. She has a child who has been through hell and back. And she’s a woman in danger. That’s enough for me. If it’s not enough for you, then fucking say so now and let me know you aren’t the man I thought you were.”

I glared at him, his words sinking in with stabbing accuracy. “Well, now who’s being an asshole? You didn’t have to call me out like that.”

He grinned and slapped me on the back. “You didn’t have to argue when we both know I’m always right. So put the fucking jacket on already.”

I shoved it back at him again. “I ain’t your old lady. And I ain’t your boyfriend. I ain’t wearing your jacket. Scythe would probably put a knife through my kidney if he saw me walking around in that.”

War sniggered at the mention of his partner. “He probably would.”

Like Rebel and Fang, War and Bliss had the whole polyamorous thing going on with two other guys. I tried to keep my nose outta the details, but some of them had been too hard to avoid.

Like War fucking one of the guys as much as he fucked Bliss.

We’d come to terms with that eventually.

But it didn’t mean I wanted to wear another guy’s jacket and definitely not War’s because his boyfriend was psychotic at the best of times, and I hadn’t been exaggerating when I said I was worried I might get stabbed.

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