Page 1 of Snagged By Hook

HOOK

“Another day, another dollar, am-I-right?” Hook reached for his soda.

It was a rhetorical question just to break the silence since the radio took a dump earlier, but Squatch, being Squatch, replied anyway.

“You’re getting paid?” He feigned outrage. “Prez told me I was doing it for the pussy. But I have yet to have a big tittie blond run down her driveway once her car was hooked up and throw her snatch at me. Herchanclas,yes, insults, most definitely, but snatch? Nope, not even once.”

Hook laughed so hard his mouthful of liquid shot across the steering wheel. “You asshole.”

“Better an asshole than a whole ass.”

Fucking Squatch.

“I guess that’s true, brother.”

Squatch turned toward the window, then back to Hook. “Speaking of asses, especially those of the female persuasion.”

Hook cut his gaze toward his passenger and saw him waggle his eyebrows. He knew exactly where the conversation was headed before he spoke the next words.

“One in particular that’s just so…” He cupped his hands in front of him, squeezing Devin’s imaginary ass. “You sure you’re not hittin’ that?”

Hook was tired of being asked if he was fucking Croon’s sister by every single brother except Croon himself.

“For the last fucking time, no. I’m not fucking my brother’s sister, and you should stop thinking about her like that too. She’s out of bounds, bro.”

“Out of bounds isn’t off limits, exactly.”

“Yeah, the fuck she is.” That wasn’t one hundred percent true. Croon would be lucky to have Squatch as his sister’s ol’ man. “Unless you plan to make it permanent and approach Croon and Prez.” Out of the corner of his eye, Hook saw Squatch visibly recoil at the word permanent.

Hook gripped the steering wheel a little tighter.

“And if that were your intention, you wouldn’t be talking about her ass every five fucking minutes to anyone who’ll listen.”

“Hell no. I’m not ready to buy a house next to Prez on Monogamy Court yet. I just wanted to see your reaction and make sureyouweren’t hitting out of bounds. No way you’d let me talk about her like that if you were.”

Sure, that might have been a piece of it, but Hook knew there was a lot more to it than just recon, but he let Squatch have his illusions. No man needed to be called out by his brother for noticing what every other straight man did. Devin did have a juicy peach of an ass, but he didn’t think about her like that. Not that he never entertained the idea. He had done so on more than one occasion when she’d first arrived. However, once they became friends, he thought of her as his own sister.

“That it?” Squatch pointed to the red sports car backed in at an angle in a narrow drive rowed by hedges and solar lights. Fucker thought they wouldn’t get it if he made it mildly inconvenient.

“Yep. That’s it. Shithead’s probably asleep.”

Normally, with the history of this guy’s violence and size, they’d try to hook it at night, but this was a unique case. Their target conducted his business at night from his house, so the middle of the day was best. His home had blackout curtains and storm shutters. Not that they were for storms, it was just the way of these geniuses when they did illegal shit. Totally didn’t make his house stand out in the subdivision at all. Hook had the image of Marisa Tomei in his head going,oh yeah, you blend. Stupid fuck.

“Yeah, and he’s probably inside banging the reason his car’s getting hooked.”

“Right? Side chick etiquette 101: don’t let the one who pays the bills and holds the titles find out about the others who aren’t,” Squatch explained.

Because Mr. Genius Petty Dealer couldn’t keep it in his pants, his girlfriend—ex-girlfriend, that is—gave up all the intel. It was one reason Hook brought Squatch with him, to keep an eye on the door while he was focused on the car. Also why they were both armed.

“Okay, let’s do it.”

“I bet you five Bens you can’t get all tires onto public property,”—Squatch pointed to the end of the driveway—“in ninety seconds without knocking over a single cheap-ass solar light.”

“You’re on.”

Hook drove past the house and turned around. He wanted to drive out of the neighborhood once he had the car rather than make a square on fifteen miles-per-hour streets. Too much time for the asshole to put his dick away and get off a shot.

As soon as the front of his rig hit the property line, Hook said, “Mark” and Squatch hit the timer on the dash they’d attached just for that purpose.

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