Page 7 of Kane's Kind of Trouble

“Is she younger than me?”

I bash my fist into my forehead. I didn’t even think of that. “Goddamn.”

“She is!”

“Please stop sounding excited. I’m dying over here.”

“Kane,” Bethany says softly, “I’m so happy for you. You’ve been alone too long.”

“I’m gonna fuck her world up.”

That gets a rise out of my spitfire sister. “You are not. That’s impossible. A man like you is what every woman wants, Kane. You just can’t see it. Now promise me you’ll give it a chance.”

“Look, I gotta go.” I reach for the console to end the call. “Stay safe, little one.”

“Wait! When are you going to see her again?”

“I’m going to pick her up now. And you were supposed to talk some sense into me.”

“Don’t forget to wear a condom. Unless you’re planning on being a baby daddy.”

Her laughter is so raucous, I have to end the call before my head explodes.

I don’t have any condoms.

Flexing my hands on the wheel, I rage at myself. No one to blame but me. I’ve lost my damned mind to get involved with Eagle. If I was sane, I’d have sent someone else to get her.

Weston, my second-in-command, would have done the job. He’s oblivious to Eagle. Smitten with his pregnant wife. He’d have been the safe bet to go talk her into coming back.

But no. I couldn’t let him go, because even as much as I logically know Weston is a claimed man, he’s male and I don’t want anyone with balls near Eagle. Ever.

She’s too sexy. Too mine.

Growling, I shove my aching dick around, trying to find a comfortable spot inside my tactical pants for the ten-inch crowbar. Right. Like that’s going to happen.

“Fuck.” I smash the volume button on the console of the estate-owned Range Rover’s dash to kill the sound. My head’s full of enough rage metal as is.

The final bend on the tree-lined dirt road comes into sight, making my balls tighten, my breath rasps, and every nerve ending from my scalp to my knees turn on like a neon sign.

She’s right up there. Just a mile ahead.

The only time I’ve felt this sensation—a swarming feeling of dread, adrenaline, and anticipation—before taking the job was in the war.

Except… every time I’m around my boss’s barely legal daughter. Long-legged, big-tit, fine-assed, virgin, Eagle.

Total smoke show. She’s nuclear hot. And she has the penchant for flashing pale hazel eyes my way before she blushes like a goddamned flower in springtime.

I’m so fucked.

And the sickest part of all…I’m elated. Fucking hysterically happy to be this close to the chaos.

You’re sick.

She’s twenty, for Christ’s sake. I’m double her age.

Slowing the luxury vehicle, I lower the window, raking the cold air into my lungs to slow my speeding blood. My heart’s so loud, I almost miss the chirp of a text message on my phone.

Paul McKenna: Do you have her?

---