Page 50 of Forty

“I got an idea,” Starla slurs. “We can run the hose out back. Make a mud pit. Bullet can take bets.”

“I’ve been wanting to snatch that bitch bald since back in the day,” Danielle laughs.

My back teeth clench. I get why the girls hate her, but they enjoy it way too much. “No one touches her.”

A silence falls. “We should still do the mud wrestling,” Angel says.

There’s a vocal roar of agreement from the brothers at the far end of the table, and clanking of beers on the table, and after some negotiation, most everyone files or stumbles out back to make it happen.

The clearing crowd lets me survey the room. There, at the bar, is Wash, bellied up without a care in the world, jawing with Boots and Grinder. What the hell? I check my phone. No texts that he’s pawned off Nevaeh on another prospect.

I stand, head immediately in his direction.

“Who’s on Nevaeh?” I’ve got Wash by the front of his shirt, out of his stool, before he even sees me coming.

“Peace, man. Heavy said he had it under control.”

Heavy? Hell no.

I stride for the stairs, Wash on my heels. What did he do? My boots pound the floor, and brothers wisely clear out of my way. If she’s gone, I’m gonna—

I jog down the hall. When I get to my room, the door knob turns easily in my hand.

She’ll be hours away by now. She could be dead. Done by a Renelli or a Raider. What they did to Crista… Fuck! She’s got no weapon. My heart’s slamming against my ribs, gut churning as I rush in and careen to a halt.

She’s passed out on my bed, in my shirt, on her belly with her legs spread and her ass hanging out. Her hand’s cradled under her cheek, and there’s a box of condoms and my copy of theNew Testamentbeside her. Wash wisely hangs back in the hall.

Nevaeh snorts, startles, and then fights the blankets until she’s sitting up, cross-legged. I can see her pussy lips puffing from her panties. My cock is instantly rock hard and throbbing.

She blinks and pushes her hair from her face. It springs right back forward again.

“Forty?” She rubs her eyes. “I’m hungry.”

I glare at Wash over my shoulder. “Did you feed her?” This fucker is not getting a patch. And Heavy and I are gonna brawl.

“I’m sorry, man. Heavy said he’d take care of her. I do what the big man says, you know?”

Nevaeh must realize she’s giving me a show—and I must be staring—because she blushes and draws her knees to her chest.

“Go get her a burger. And sides. Bring a six pack.” Wash beats feet back downstairs. “Domestic!”

I slowly approach the bed and sit. You never know with her. Her temper comes and goes so quick.

She crawls over and perches next to me, dangling her bare legs over the edge. There’s a few inches between us, and we’re both facing the door. Guess she’s cool.

I keep my back straight and my shoulders square as she yawns and rests her head on my bicep.

“What did Heavy say?” I ask.

“It was more of anoffer you can’t refuse.” She does a cheesy mobster impersonation. My lips quirk. Clearly, Heavy doesn’t remember Nevaeh all that well. She’s more than capable of ignoring a word to the wise.

“What was the offer?”

“Fifty thousand dollars, a used Ford Focus, and a brand-new life!” She does a game show host voice.

“In exchange for?”

“Getting lost.”

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