Page 93 of Tangled in Knots

“I don’t know if I can say any made men are ‘nice,’” I grumble.

“You’ve had a really awful view of them,” she says. “Just because they’re big, scary, and can do terrible things, doesn’t mean they’ll do them to you.”

“I feel as if that’s the advice you give someone before they’re found murdered in a dumpster,” I say glumly.

Me:

I’ve been a little busy.

Duncan:

Oh, do tell.

Me:

Just working. It’s really not that crazy.

My phone rings, making me sigh and Aisling giggle.

“They’re both pushy fuckers,” she says as I answer.

“Yes,” I drawl, recognizing the number.

“Where are you working?”Duncan asks. “How do you know it’s safe?”

“Aisling helped me find the job. It’s safe,” I tell him.

“Oh for heaven’s sakes,” Aisling says, rolling her eyes.

“You started this,” I hiss at her. “I’m figuring out my life, Duncan. That means I need to make money.”

“Callum and I want to come see you,”he says. “Please tell me where you’re working. Also, are you with Aisling right now?”

“You only get so many questions, Duncan. Which do you want answered first?”

“Definitely the work question,”he says hurriedly. “Relax, Callum, I’m working on it!”

I cannot with these two.

“Finnegan’s bar in Minneapolis,” I tell Duncan.

While I had told the guys to take me to the shelter in front of Pack Kelly, it’s not as if they could knock on the door to come find me. That’s why they’ve both been blowing up Aisling’s phone.

Ugh, alphas.

“That’s a mafia related bar,”Duncan grunts. “Caleb is a good one, though. How are you liking it?”

“The tips are great, and the hours work for me,” I tell him. I do not mention the fact that I’m walking home at two in the morning.

Occasionally, I still feel eyes on me when I’m making that walk every night, and I have a feeling it’s Morris. His words about having killed people who wanted to hurt me still ring in my ears. I’d be an idiot to tell him to go at this point.

Now that I know he’s around, it doesn’t spark my fight or flight response. However, I’m still aware of the danger around me, so I keep my stun gun in my hand.

“What kind of hours?” Duncan asks. The man isn’t going to let up.

“I start at nine at night,” I tell him, refusing to tell him more.

“Are you working tonight?”he asks, still fishing.

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