Page 21 of Desperate Actions

I notice exactly when he does—the early arrival of my little cousin, Leanna.

Lee-Lee.

Junior’s reaction is immediate.

The growl rumbles from his chest, low and warning, and for the briefest second, I almost feel bad for him.

Almost.

Then I remember the shit he just gave me about Aella, and any sympathy I had? Gone.

Because Lee-Lee is decked out in skintight black pants and a tiny tank top, the kind that leaves little to the imagination.

And judging by the way Junior’s fists clench at his sides—she’s definitely not wearing a bra.

Shit.

I glance at him again, his expression dark, his possessiveness undeniable, his growl drawing eyes.

“Quit it,” I mutter.

“What?” he snaps, not even looking at me.

“Now who’s doing the eye-fucking?”

His head whips toward me, his glare promising violence.

“I’m not eye-fucking her,” he bites out.

“Dude, I’m surprised she ain’t pregnant from over here,” I reply, grinning because fuck it—I’m enjoying this.

“Fuck you, man,” he grunts, dragging a hand over his face.

I should let it drop. Should just drink my whiskey and suffer in silence like I’ve been doing all night.

But then he says, “Look, Uncle Angel’s gonna be pissed for sure. And the only reason I don’t kick your ass already is because I know you, Sammy. You’re a good man. So why don’t you just fucking tell Aella already?”

The words hit harder than they should.

“Tell her what?” I scoff. “That I’m too old for her? That I’m unworthy? My hands are too fucking dirty to touch her.”

And just like that, I hate myself.

Because my voice—it gives me away.

Something raw, something vulnerable slips through, and Junior hears it.

He shakes his head. “No, bro. Just tell her you love her. Because I’m pretty fucking sure you do.”

“Shit.”

I exhale sharply, looking away.

“I can’t.”

“Why?”

I drag a hand through my hair, feeling exposed. “Because I don’t deserve her.”

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