Page 89 of Outcast

My clothes were probably still in the living room where I'd dropped them. After having the strongest orgasm of my life, only barely overshadowing the one Esteban had given me the day before, I'd been so drained I'd passed out right there on Matías.

One of them, Matías probably, carried me to his bedroom. I woke up sometime in the middle of the night with both men pressed up against me. Feeling the safest sincePapádied, hell, since the brothers fought to take over the Institution, I'd closed my eyes and drifted back off into a dreamless, heavy sleep.

I could go to the living room and get my clothes, but I cringed at putting on a dirty dress that I'd sweated to death in. Instead I rummaged through Matías' dresser drawers.

Was this Matías' room? It was decoratedexactly like the rest of the house in dark, sterile furniture. There were no personal items, no pictures. Nothing to say this was his private space.

When we dated in the past, I had never been allowed to visit his house. It had been too dangerous. So now, seeing this glimpse of who he was, it was like crack.

Each drawer was full of clothes. They were arranged so neatly by article and color. Who the fuck did this? He must have housekeepers. The Matías I knew wasn't anal about useless shit.

I barked out a laugh. Andre probably had the cleaning service do it. He seemed like a man who color coded his briefs. I'd have to ask Amorette.

Plucking out a T-shirt, I slipped it on and padded through the house. My steps echoed back to me. Andre must have a crew come in regularly. Stopping by an art piece, I swiped my finger along the top of the frame. Dust free.

That was as thoughtful as it was eerie. It was like Andre and the others kept this place as a shrine to the brother they treated like shit.

I liked them, and I loved Amorette, but I couldn't make myself forget how Matías had always yearned to be part of their band of brothers. He'd never told me that, but I'd been at functions over the years and saw how he stared at them. Shaking my head, I kept moving.

This new energy was so refreshing compared to the morbid and sad shit that had been plaguing me for weeks. I wanted to embrace the hell out of it.

Both men were in the kitchen. Matías held a steaming cup of coffee to his lips as he blew on it while Esteban had his own mug on the counter in front of him.

Somewhere, Esteban had lost his shirt, and every singleone of his well-defined abs were on display. I ached to run my hands down his stomach.

They turned to me, and as soon as their gazes focused on my body, all the wanton desire from the previous night resurfaced. I shifted on my feet at the reminder of both their hands on my body. It had been a transcendent experience I couldn't wait to repeat.

So much bad shit had happened. My head had been reeling. Yet, somehow, last night it all came to a head. I didn't even know how it happened.

But it had been so fucking therapeutic.

The only plausible reason for my lapse in thinking was that Matías saved Esteban. For me. Because I didn't want him to die even though Esteban had been a shithead to Matías.

Matías still pushed him out of the line of fire, getting injured himself. That was the biggest gesture Matías could ever make to get back in my good graces.

"You look very determined today," Matías said by way of a greeting. A few soft curls fell over his forehead. He’d always had buzzed hair before.

Forgetting about the desire, I walked to the island and pressed my palms flat against the granite countertops.

I stared both men in the eyes. "We need to figure out who the rat is."

In all of Dirty Dog history, nothing like this had ever happened before. The thought that someone was actively leaking information to an enemy burned like poison in the back of my throat.

How fucking dare they do this to our gang. ToPapá'smemory.

He loved everyone of his men, even the assholes. For them to betray us like this...

I curled my fingers against the counter.

Esteban glanced at Matías before bringing his attention back to me. "I don't think not finding the rat was even an option."

Matías chuckled, and for a second I was thrown. When did these men become so friendly?

Leaning toward me, Matías' smile died. "What do you want to do about it Rita?" His voice was low and seemed to have a line directly to my core.

I sucked in a long breath, gathering my thoughts as I closed my eyes. Thinking was easier when he or Esteban weren't distracting me with their attention.

"A rat in the Dirty Dogs means that someone doesn't like who our potential leaders are." I reasoned it out.

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