Haizley moved in behind Kytten. With a light hand on her shoulder, she said, “Thank you, Kytten, but I like his fucking dick where it is. I also like it when he beats my ass.”
“Woman,” Gunner growled, only this time it was different.
“Gunner won’t hurt me, I promise. He’s all bark and no bite.”
“The fuck I am,” he bellowed, causing Tucker to growl. I hadn’t noticed he stood by Kytten’s side.
“Maureen!”
“Tucker,” she called, holding her pregnant belly as she laughed at the scene.
Tucker ignored her. It didn’t happen often. Only when he felt one of the women or kids was in danger.
Tucker was a great dog, and he tolerated us, but he loved the women and kids. The front door opened, allowing the sheriff to walk in.
“Jesus Christ. TUCKER!” he yelled. The dog immediately moved to his side. He sat at Declan’s feet, but his ears were still plastered to his head, letting us know he was alert and ready to move. “What the fuck is going on?”
When his eyes caught sight of Rose, they narrowed, and I got to my feet and moved to stand behind her. I liked Declan. He was a stand-up guy for a cop. But I didn’t like the way he was assessing my woman.
“Miss. Robinette. Causing trouble?”
“No, Sheriff. Just making sure someone keeps the peace.” Rose had folded her arms and was still glaring at Gunner.
“How do you know the sheriff, Rosie?”
Her head turned in my direction, and her guilty expression told me I wouldn’t like what she said.
“He pulled me over for speeding.”
I turned her around. “How fucking fast were you going? ’Cause Dec doesn’t pull many people over for speeding.”
“It was no big deal, Cash. I was upset, and I wasn’t paying attention.” She lowered her voice so only I could hear her, and said, “The monsters were screaming.”
“Do not use them as a fucking excuse. How fast?”
“I’m not telling you.” She folded her arms again, and her defiance caused my dick to twitch against my zipper. He liked her fucking attitude a little too much.
“Ninety-seven,” the sheriff called out.
Rose closed her eyes, and her hands dropped to her sides. She knew she was in fucking trouble.
“Ninety-fucking-seven? Do you have any fucking idea how easily you could have lost control of your bike?”
“Don’t talk to me like I’m a fucking child!” She socked me in the gut and walked off down the hallway. I turned to follow, and Mellie stopped me.
“Give her a few minutes. Let her feel. Let her stew. She needs this. Is there anything in your room?”
I looked at Mellie, her words not registering at first. “What?”
“Any knives? Anything sharp?”
“No, there’s nothing.” I had removed everything the first night after Rose fell asleep.
“Then give her a minute and then check on her. I’m going to call my friend.”
I waited for two minutes. That was all I could give her. I understood what Mellie was saying—Rose needed me to trust her. I got that. But it had only been a week.
I jogged up the two flights of stairs to my room and swung the door open. Scanning the empty room, I turned to the bathroom door that was wide open.