Page 39 of Savage Daddies

Zoe purses her lips and keeps her eyes on me. She wears a cold expression. One that has nothing to do with air conditioning. “I could’ve asked you the same thing earlier, when you broke into my property.”

8

WRANGLER

Paul is nowhereto be found. I grit my teeth. Not good.

Poet has a good point about us being kicked out. Grizzly’s paying me to slurp stout and lose games of pool. Action needs to be taken before he decides I’ve grown useless, because my parents still rely on the cash that Prez slaps into my palm once a month.

We finish this investigation, stay clear of Zoe, and go back to how things were before—peaceful.

Sheila was the only woman for me.Is.It was disrespectful enough, sticking my dick inside of another womanonce.I can’t do it again. That’s no way to pay your respects to a dead body that, when alive, made you feel invincible.

My eyes catch a glimpse of something red and black. Two stark colors, but they complement one another beautifully.

Red and black.

And then all black.

It’s Zoe winning a staring competition with Bullwhip.

Just what I need right now—distracting.

I pause for a moment.

One word with her won’t hurt. One more look into her eyes. It’s human nature to be drawn toward beauty.

“Zoe. Bullwhip.” I stride on over. “Hope you’re not up to mischief.”

“What’s your name?” Zoe’s green eyes sharpen when she turns to look at me.

It makes me second-guess revealing my name.

“Uh.”

“Wrangler,” Bullwhip answers for me.

Her eyes scroll up and down my body. “You didn’t get the leather pants memo? Maybe you could borrow a pair from one of the others since the three of you always seem glued to one another’s sides.”

I cut my eyes to Bullwhip and he gives a subtle shake of his head.

At least he kept the masquerade out of his mouth.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” Zoe folds her arms over her chest.

“What?”

“In my house.”

My heart skips a beat. I neutralize my features and buy more time with the classic “Sorry? What?”

“How did you do it?” Curiosity fills her eyes, like she wants step-by-step instructions.

“Honey,” says Bullwhip, “you must be mistaken. We didn’t?—”

She releases the clutch wedged under her armpit and pops the button, taking out an iPhone—newest version, of course—to show us video footage. I expect a recording of us mounting her gate or something. Not a close-up of all three of our dashing faces staring into the facial recognition cam, exposing our identities.

Zoe laughs. “It’s like dumb and dumber.”

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