Page 47 of Brutal Devil
PRIEST
I’m in a vile mood by the time I meet up with Rocco and Saint. My energy is dark, and I know it. In the kitchen of the safe house, I rage-pour myself a cup of coffee, slamming everything I can until I actually crack my cup and coffee starts seeping all over the marble counter. Grinding my jaw, I dump the coffee in the sink and get a new cup, filling it.
Saint flashes me a shit-eating grin from where he’s sitting over a bowl of half-eaten sugary cereal. “Case of blue balls?”
“Fuck you.”
“Hey, look, it’s not my fault if the wifey isn’t putting out.”
“Wifey? What are you, a nineteen-year-old girl talking about her best friend? And the next time you fucking talk about my wife putting out, I’ll feed you your teeth. Understood?”
“Nope. Last time I checked, I was a twenty-nine-year-old man with a giant dick and a face women can’t resist. Also, I highly doubt you’d be able to feed me my teeth, but I invite you to try.”
He shovels a spoonful of cereal into his mouth.
“How can you eat that shit?”
He swallows. “How can younoteat this? It’s fucking delicious.”
Rocco pauses in downing his eggs and bacon. “You eat breakfast with Mrs. Andriani, boss?”
“No.”
I’d intended to eat breakfast with Luna. But then she pissed me off and turned me on, and I ended up finger-fucking her on the breakfast table and storming out with a rock-hard dick and a foul temper.
Yeah, not one of my finer moments. I can still taste her, and it’s all I can do to keep from going back for more. So fucking sweet.
“Maria sent enough to feed an army.” Rocco gets up like he’s going to serve me.
“Sit. I’ll get it myself.”
I heap whatever I can find onto a plate and storm over to the table. There’s not much left, and it’s cold, which pisses me off even more. But I eat it anyway because we’ve got work to do, and today’s going to be a long one.
Saint starts drinking out of his cereal bowl like a little kid.
I glare at him. “Swear to God, I’m going to break that fucking bowl over your head if you don’t stop slurping.”
He blinks innocently and keeps at it.
“I’m serious, Saint. I’ll break your nose a second time.”
It’s still lightly bruised from his run-in with Luna’s head. She may have the soul of a poet, but she’s tougher than a grizzly bear.
Saint puts the bowl down. “She didn’t break it. She only bruised it.”
I shrug. “If you say so.”
“I do say so, because it’s the truth.”
“Mmm-hmm,” I agree around a mouthful of cold scrambled eggs.
The last thing he’d ever admit is to having his nose broken by a girl. Not going to lie. I get an evil amount of enjoyment from the fact that my wife headbutted the shit out of him.
My wife.
Fuck.
It still doesn’t feel real, even if I’ve been sleeping beside Luna every night. She hasn’t slit my throat yet, which is a minor miracle likely aided by the fact that everything sharp has been removed from the room. But Saint is right. I do have a case of blue balls. Asshole.
