Page 29 of Beautifully Wounded

Thank fuck, she nods, not feeling bratty enough to protest, and she hurries from the bed and into the bathroom.

“Get the fuck up!” Smitty yells, so I yell back.

“Hang the fuckon, you grumpy fuck!”

I hear him chuckle as I look around the space to see if there’s anything out of place, and once I’m satisfied it looks just as boring as it did yesterday, I move the couch and throw open the door.

“The fuck, man. You’re interrupting my beauty sleep.”

Smitty chuckles, shoving past me as he strolls in and flops back to sit on my couch.

“No amount of sleep is going to help your ugly mug.”

“Whatever.” I chuckle as I move to the kitchenette and switch on my jug. “What was so fucking urgent you had to wake me?”

“I just wanted an update on your meeting with Griffin Marx.”

As the electric jug does its thing, I get a clean mug and dump in a heaped teaspoon of coffee followed by two sugars.

“It wasn’t a meeting, remember?” I turn to Smitty, leaning back against the counter. “Just a chat.”

“Whatever. Tell me what he said.”

“He’s on board,” I explain, crossing my arms over my chest. From this position, I can keep an eye on the bathroom door. “Says there’s a property we can get cheap enough on the outer fringe of Fox Pines. The old Hill estate. Vixen’s Lodge.”

“Ain’t that the place that burnt down after a girl was assaulted?” Smitty asks, looking lazy as fuck with his foot propped up on his opposite knee and one arm stretched out along the back of the couch.

“Yeah, it is. After the shit that happened there, they’re finding it hard to sell. Should be big enough for what we need. We’d have to build everything ourselves. I think there’s still a barn.”

“Sounds fucking perfect. Did Griffin mention what Ewan’s thoughts on it might be?”

“Griffin doesn’t think his old man will be on board about sharing the trade in that area, but seems to think what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

“Fucking Griffin. Cheeky fucker.” Smitty chuckles. “Let me handle Ewan Marx. What about Barrett Marx? Had any contact with him?”

As the jug starts to boil, I turn and flick it off before pouring the scalding water into my mug and then stir the coffee.

“I spoke with him last week. He’s still overseas. Not planning on touching Aussie soil again for a while. I get the feeling there’s some sort of family drama there,” I admit, moving to my fridge and getting out the milk.

“He got some connections for us?” Smitty asks and I nod, pouring a dash of milk into my coffee.

“Yeah.” I turn back, holding my steaming mug of coffee. “He’s got some decent contacts in Peru that could help get some candy past our borders once they open up again.”

“Fucking COVID,” Smitty mutters and I nod.

“Yeah, fucking COVID.”

Standing from the couch, Smitty checks himself out in my mirror over the counter, combing his fingers through the sides of his still damp hair. “Get me more info on the Fox Pines property.”

“Already on it.”

He grins at me, and I can tell by his expression that the business side of our chat is over.

“What the fuck happened over here last night when you got back?”

I cringe. “You heard that?”

“Everyone fucking heard it. What did Brody do?”

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