Page 44 of Desperate Desires

“You sure, Shelly? Want us to get rid of him?” Sammy asked, narrowing his eyes at my position. Particularly to where Michelle now had both hands wrapped around my wrists.

“I’m fine.”

“She’s fine,” we both said at the same time.

I clenched my jaw. This woman knew she was mine. On some level, she fucking knew, and that was all the go ahead I needed.

“Look, Jr., Sammy, I'm with her,” I told the two men, dipping my chin.

I felt her confusion at the way I’d worded that, but Sammy and Jr. knew what the fuck I meant.

They both tensed.

“What the fuck, bro?” Sammy growled, and my instincts were going nuts all over again.

“I said, I'm with her. I mean it, okay? Now back off,” I warned him again.

I didn’t want to insult the two of them, but I was willing to go as far as I had to just to get my point across.

“Yeah? And what about that thing you got going on?” Jr. asked, and I frowned.

How did that motherfucker know my business?

“You got a beat on that?” I asked.

“Fuck yeah. There’s nothing goes on in Jersey the Vipers don’t know about, Ono. You know that.”

Yeah, I fucking did. I scrubbed a hand over my face and nodded once.

“I got it handled.”

“Got what handled? What the hell are you guys talking about?” Michelle asked.

“Nothing, Shelly. We’re just catching up. See you later, kid,” Sammy said, winking at her and making me growl a second time.

“You better switch to decaf, Ono. This one’ll give you high blood pressure,” Jr. joked, ducking as Michelle reached out to swat him in the head.

“Assface! Tell Lucy I’m going home!” she called out.

I’d already grabbed her hand before she could make contact with Jr., and she struggled against me for a moment before sighing and giving up.

I wasn’t hurting her or anything. But I’d have to be fucked in the head if I let her hands touch any part of that asshole.

She seemed to know, or maybe it was just instinct. Either way, she relented, and a part of me was appeased.

Smart woman.

“What? I wouldn’t have hurt him,” she mumbled and rolled her beautiful dark eyes.

“Don’t want you touching him, Doc. Don’t want you touching no one but me.”

“That-that’s asinine. I’m a doctor. I touch a lot of people,” she said, and shook her head, flagging down the bartender.

“You want a drink?”

“No, I need to close out my tab,” she said, and I nodded.

I handed the woman behind the bar my credit card before Michelle could get hers.

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