Page 75 of Fiona and the Fixer

I couldn’t yell at her because doing that clearly didn’t get anything to sink into her brain. I needed an outlet for this obsession and insanity.

I ripped her shirt off.

My hand cupped her breast. The other circled about her waist and?—

“What the fuck is this?” I asked, pulling something out from the back of her pants. Not her gun. A–

“Why do you have a package of drugs?” Jesus fucking Christ. “Fiona. What the hell?”

“That’s what they’re smuggling in the pickle containers,” she said, her attention focused on undoing my zipper, then pushing my pants and boxers down my hips.

I never expected to be distracted when a woman did that, but Fiona figured out a way.

“You took some of their stock?” I stared at the big bag of pills. “Are you crazy?”

Holy shit. She took some of the product. Based on the phone call with Max Pinter, hisfrienddidn’t know any of it was missing. Yet.

Based on the photo he’d sent, his request for my help was very recent.

I was distracted, but I was a man. My dick sprang free, hard and ready, and she leaned forward and licked the tip.

“Why do you keep asking me that?” she asked, glancing up at me through her lashes, my dick right in front of her face. It was the prettiest fucking sight. Especially when she eyed it and licked it again.

My fingers tangled in her hair and tugged, tipping her head back so she looked back up at me. If she got any more of that sweet tongue and sinful mouth on my dick, I’d come embarrassingly quickly, but also, I’d lose the remaining functioning brain cells.

She got the answer she’d been snooping for. The pickle place really was a front for all kinds of shady shit run by all kinds of shady people. Shady people who were friends with my shady people who wanted me to fix their problem.

Her.

That wasbeforeshe stole a package of… I glanced at the pills again, probably Fentanyl, from them. Now, they wouldn’t only want her fixed. They’d want her dead.

No one stole from these guys. Everyone–but Fiona–knew it was a one-way ticket to the morgue.

“You don’t steal from drug dealers! These pills are a shit ton of money. They’re going to want it back!” Okay, maybe I did need to yell at her.

“You don’t want me to suck you off?” she asked, trying to distract me. She didn’t get it. She didn’t getanyof this.

She would. And I’d understand her before we left this office.

“That’s not how this is going, sweetheart.”

She frowned, because what guy didn’t want his dick sucked?

This was sex. Definitely. It was also time for me to get answers because she was fucking reckless. The only time we connected was when my dick was buried balls deep in her pussy.

Walls came down. The real Fiona came out from hiding. I could seeher.

That had to happen now. I needed answers as to why she was so fucking bullheaded about going alone.

Why she didn’t trust me.

She got caught. She just didn’t know it.

There would be a mark on her head by sundown. I was going to have to fix this, too.

I picked her up and spun her around to face away from me, then I bent her over the desk.

“Dax!” she said, her hands slapping the wood.

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