Page 36 of Smooth Sailing

“So, you gonna come out and help me with tacos?”

She bit the side of her lip while her right shoulder inched up before she let both go and requested, “Can I try tomorrow night?”

“No pressure. I said I wasn’t going to push, and I meant that. But warning, I won’t push, but my encouragement might take a harder slant.”

She smiled at that, not a big one, but it was a definite smile before she said, “Consider me warned.”

“I’ll bring you in some tacos,” I offered.

She nodded.

If she ate them, along with her smile, that would be a win for the night.

I left her room, returned to mine, changed out of my clothes and into some cutoff jean shorts and a cute black tee with ruffle sleeves and a plunging V neckline (and I was ignoring why I chose a semi-fancy tee with cleavage, when it was unlikely I’d wear it to hang around the house, it was more a going-out-for-coffee or a movie item of apparel), and I headed to the kitchen.

Muzzle was sprawled in all his faded-jeans-and-tee biker badass on my couch, his focus to the TV, where a true crime doc was playing.

“True crime fan?” I asked as I moved toward the kitchen.

His gaze came to me, it dropped to my legs, his eyes got lazy then they came to mine.

So noted: Muzzle was a leg man.

“Misery loves company,” he replied.

“What?” I queried.

“It’s not good to know there are other sick fucks people have to deal with out there. It’s still good to know we’re not the only ones who are constantly dealing with sick fucks.”

Interesting.

“So that means…?” I prompted.

“People have problems, cops can’t sort it, or they don’t got the money for lawyers or private dicks, or whatever they need to get the problem gone, they come to us, and we get the problem gone.”

Interesting.

“And that means?” I pressed.

He looked to the wall beyond, which was the guest bathroom, and beyond that was Suzette’s room, then back to me.

But he spoke no words.

I realized his look to the wall was his answer.

Sadly, it also wasn’t.

“I’m afraid our short acquaintance has not guided me to understanding your meaningful glances,” I said as I began to move around the kitchen to get dinner started.

I returned my attention to him when he busted out laughing.

He also turned off the TV, rose to his hot-biker-guy height, and moved to the kitchen island.

“Had a lady whose teenage daughter was being sexually blackmailed by some anonymous twat on social media. The girl couldn’t deal. She took her own life. The cops were going too slow, and bottom line, this fuck was doing it to other girls. We found the guy and put him out of commission. Gratis. She got justice, other girls got out from under his thumb. And done.”

I stared at him. “How did you put him out of commission?”

He shot me a panty-melting, white smile. “Now that, even old ladies don’t know. There’s brotherhood shit, Diana, where no one gets in. And it isn’t about keeping the women out. It’s about keeping anyone who isn’t a brother out. Learn that early.”

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