Page 33 of Cold Foot King

“If they piss me off enough. And besides, you remember what happened. You went on the attack. I was just protecting the Fastlanders.”

“Yeah, don’t pretend you didn’t enjoy losing your shit on me.”

“It was pretty fun. Lots of water.”

“Thanks a lot,” King muttered as he closed the door and headed across the street.

Wreck had talked to him about the Crew, but he’d been honest when he said he really didn’t know if he even wanted to be in a Crew with Wreck as the Alpha. His Crew would likely have a short expiration date, and he needed to decide on the least worst prison—Cold Foot, or Wreck’s new Crew.

Chapter Six

Where was he?

Katrina checked the hallway again. She’d opened the door an hour after he’d set up his pallet out there because she was having trouble sleeping, but he had been curled on his side, sleeping soundly, and she’d felt bad waking him up. So, she hadn’t.

Yesterday had been eternal. She had expected to find him sleeping still as she checked the empty hallway now. She’d just had a bad dream. It was always the same. She was burning alive.Thanks, Wreck, for the trauma.

Maybe King had the same dream. Maybe that’s why he’d left.

She brushed her fingers through her hair to loosen the waves that had dried after her shower. He’d folded the bedding and placed it inside the doorway.

Had he run early this morning? Had he tracked down transportation and found the bank he was looking for?

The door beeped, and she was startled out of her thoughts as King pushed his way in, two coffees in his hands. “Morning,” he said gruffly. His eyes were bright gold, and he smelled of dominance. The air grew heavy as he stepped into the room.

“I don’t know how you drink it,” he said, handing her a convenience-store cup with a cardboard sleeve to protect her hand from the heat.

She took it from him, and didn’t even know what to say. So touched was she, Katrina just parted her lips and closed them again as the thank-you stayed lodged in her throat.

“You’re upset?” he asked.

King’s dark hair was all mussed from sleep, but in that sexy way that looked like he’d roughed it up on purpose. He looked even taller today, wider. His muscles pushed against his light-gray thermal shirt.

“I’m not upset. No one has ever gotten me coffee like this before. Just…showed up with it right when I was thinking I need to go to the store and get some. You just…thought of me.”

He looked baffled. “If no one has gotten a woman like you coffee before, you’ve picked the wrong damn men.”

He chugged the last of his own coffee, tossed the empty in the little trash can by the dresser, and then made his way to the bathroom, peeling his shirt off as he went. His sleeve of tattoos traveled to his back, and covered half of it. His spine was the barrier. The other half of his back was completely bare of tattoo ink. It was just a latticework of scars that had gone silver with time and healing. She hadn’t had a good look at this part of his body, and it stunned her.

“That must’ve hurt,” she said, gesturing to his back.

“The tattoo?”

She’d been talking about the scars, but sure. The tattoo. She wanted to hear that story.

“I was drunk for most of the sessions,” he said with a chuckle. “I was having issues. You aren’t supposed to have alcohol in your system, but my tattoo artist was my friend, and he let me drink. He knew I was a shifter. Our bodies respond differently.”

“I know,” she said with a wicked smile.

“I saw your tattoo,” he said, lifting his chin in confidence. “I think about it. Sexy thigh tattoo. Makes a man want to trace the lines.”

Whooo, what he did to her body. The way he was talking, the air of confidence, how dominant he was, how his chest and abs were so defined as he stood in the doorway of the dimly-lit bathroom talking to her like this…she couldn’t deny she was extremely attracted to him. It took a lot for her to find a man attractive. First and foremost, he had to be more dominant than she was. If she could outfight him, outsmart him, or outdo him, she would chew him up and spit him out.

King was bigger than her, and clever, and calm, and well-spoken, and dominant, and his body was out of this world.

It made her want to say things like, “Thank you,” instead of tossing her coffee in the trash and announcing she didn’t need some dumb man to buy her anything. She could do everything herself.

She lifted the coffee. “I really appreciate this.”

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