Page 42 of Smith

Jonas shrugged.

“If you needed a place to stash something, didn’t want it found, and I had access to someone else’s house, why not hide it in their walls? What are the chances someone’s going to tear down walls?”

“Slim, but if there was an issue with the wiring and the drywall needed to be removed, whatever was hidden would be found. Or if a pipe broke and?—”

“I get it, you’re right. But how often does that happen? I think we need to pull the permits on the house and see who did the remodel upstairs.”

That would take a ten-minute visit to planning and zoning.

“We’ll hit up planning and zoning tomorrow. While Aria finishes up, I wanna check out the attic.”

Jonas frowned and leaned away from me.

“You’re on your own with that, pal.”

“Pussy,” I taunted.

Jonas’s hands came up and without heat he muttered, “Until you’ve been trapped in an attic for forty hours you can fuck right off.”

“Why are we fucking off?” Aria asked as she passed the opening to the dining room but didn’t stop to hear the answer.

Jonas took this as his opportunity to circle back to his ribbing.

“That woman’s got a fine?—”

“Don’t,” I cut in.

“Right.” He drew out the word. “Is there a reason you don’t like me commenting on your woman’s fine…sense of style?”

He was so full of shit. Aria was wearing another pair of faded jeans and a plain black t-shirt. Neither of which was stylish—she was remodeling a house. Both, however, hugged her frame. The jeans especially once again showcased her fine ass.

“Told you?—”

Jonas interrupted me. “When are you going to remember I don’t listen to shit people tell me? I believe one-third of the shit that comes out of people’s mouths. But actions, body language, deeds…now those speak the truth. So, brother, you want me to believe you’re not hot for the woman, you got your work cut out for you. And even then, I won’t believe you. But I will tell you, it’s way past time you realize that your ex is a useless bitch. What she?—”

“Don’t.”

“There’s that word again,” Jonas pointed out. “You say that a lot when one of us tries to talk to you about her. You don’t want to hear it but you need to. That shit she laid on you, is bullshit.”

There was never a good time to get into any sort of conversation about her. But with Aria in the other room, it was seriously not the right time.

“I know what she is and I know what she laid on me. What I don’t know is why the hell you’re bringing it up.”

“Because the time is ripe, Smith. So ripe it’s rotten. It’s been a long time and the fact you’re still not over it? That says that rot’s in your gut and if you’re not careful it’ll poison you.”

It took extreme effort to remember Jonas was a brother, a man who’d had my six, stood beside me in battle, spent ten years living a different version of the same hell I had lived through. If he hadn’t been, my fist would’ve been down his throat.

“You’re wrong, Jonas, it’s not in my gut. It’s leached into my blood. You all think I’m brokenhearted. I’m not. I’m just plain broken. There’s no fixing what she did. There’s no getting over it. It lives in me, that poison courses through my veins.” I stopped long enough to hear the water in the kitchen still running before I continued, “Aria’s not my woman, but she is a good one and she doesn’t need some asshole commenting on her ass to get a rise out of me. That’s all I’m saying.”

“I bet that ass gets a rise outta you,” he mumbled under his breath.

My temper flared.

“Seriously,” I grunted. “Did you not just fucking hear me?”

“I listened to about two seconds of that garbage that came out of your mouth. After that I tuned you out and watched the guilt for something that is not yours flood your eyes. I watched you flinch when you lied and said Aria wasn’t yours and I saw you frown when you called her a good woman.”

Christ, the guy was infuriatingly observant.

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