Page 4 of Three
“Bring some puffs,” I tell him. My stomach is growling. But he just hangs up.Fucking cold!I won’t hold my breath for the puffs.
Ten minutes later, I’m about to say fuck itand drag the damn donor out by his neck when the door of the pub opens again and a fucking dream in denim-clad, thick legs comes out.
He looks like dessert. A dark chocolate soufflé with a molten hot lava core.
I can imagine all the smooth, inky skin over those powerful biceps and hard pecs, under the gray Henley he’s wearing. No jacket, like he radiates enough warmth as it is.
A bear. He’s a dark grizzly bear, slightly soft around his lower torso with a very, very promising bulge in the front of his jeans. He’s walking slowly but confidently, taking his time. Every step exudes a silent, dangerous dominance and an incredible toughness. My dick gives a half-hearted throb with each stride.
“Serena, who the fuck is that?” I clear my throat. “I mean, find out what you can about the grizzly man who just stepped out ofthe pub.”
“On it.”
I’m bulky and brawny, it’s not easy to find guys bigger than me. And I bet this specimen of a bear can show me new roads to climax city with those large hands and hopefully impressive dick. Mine twitches hot and heavy at the visual.
My dirty line of thought is shoved aside when the Baker brothers come out of Smith’s—and start following my grizzly. They are not subtle about it either.
The bear stops for three long seconds, seemingly lost into his thoughts, and without looking back he resumes his slow walk, turning into the alley near the pub.
My donor slides a hand under his jacket. My eyes catch a flash of metal from his gun barrel shining under the streetlamp before it’s swallowed by the thick darkness of the alley.
I move without thinking. My footsteps pick up speed. The black mouth of the alley is a few feet away. It’s a perfect place for an attack. Why did Grizzly walk in there? I’m pretty sure he knows they are following him.
I slow down when I reach the alleyway’s entrance and I am quickly cloaked in the gloom as well. I strain my eyes, needing a few seconds to adjust to the dim light coming from the pub’s side door. But I can hear Grizzly's gravelly voice just fine.
“Keep following me, and it’ll end badly for you.” His warning is met with the brothers’ laughter and the pointing of the gun at his back.
Bear Man’s body suddenly gives a half spin and snatches the hitman’s wrist with his left hand. He squeezes so tightly that the gun falls to the ground with a noisy clatter. Then the unmistakable sound of bone breaking comes. August’s grunt seems to shake hisbrother out of his shock, lurching him toward Grizzly, his fist flying through the air. Grizzly takes a light step to the side, avoiding the punch, and without letting go of the other guy’s broken wrist, he brings his boot up hard into the man’s midsection, shoving him back toward me.
Fuck yeah. Love a man who can fight.
He lets out a cock-hardening, angry growl before gripping the hitman’s neck and slamming him face-first into the wall so hard, his skull makes a disturbing crack—music to my ears. August groans, his uninjured hand pressing against the unforgiving bricks in front of him.
Stepping in close, Grizzly demands alarmingly slowly, “Who are you?”
“Fuck you!” the hitman responds while his brother is still whining in the fetal position on the hard ground. Shouldn’t debt collectors be tough fuckers? What a joke!
My eyes focus back on my grizzly. He’s holding both the hitman’s wrists in one hand behind his back, and with the other he grabs his hair hard and smashes his face twice on the wall. The sudden arrival of two guys behind me halts my smile at the sight of the fresh red blood against the gray bricks.
“What the fuck! Marcus?” One of them recognizes the younger brother now kneeling a few feet from me.
“What’s going on?” the other one asks, looking from me to Grizzly.
That’s when his eyes fully fall on me for the first time. They meet mine for only a couple of seconds, but damn, it is like diving into a sea of rich, smooth coffee. It makes me want to lick my lips and put them to work around whatever he hides in those jeans, if only to discover what shade of dark brown those chestnut pools reach when in ecstasy.
Later.
I turn to the two newcomers and plaster a happy-creepy Joker smile on my face. “Would you help a guy with his daily training?”
They look at me with confused expressions. I hate when my quotes fall flat.
Using a good-natured tone, I ask them, “Oh sorry, are you here for a quickie? That spot looks quite cozy.” I point at the brightest place in the alley, enjoying the understanding and consequent anger filling the two guys’ eyes. Not angry enough, though.
“Don’t mind if I watch, right? I might have a twenty if you give a nice show.” I pat my pockets like I’m searching for money.
“I’m gonna crush your face, you deviant fag, and break all the bones in your body,” the guy on the left hisses at me, while the other hits his hand with his fist in a very lame, bully-like gesture that isn’t nearly as intimidating as he wants it to be.
“How about my dick? Too homophobic to even say the word?” I snort when both of them automatically glance at it. I might hear a derisive grunt come from Grizzly behind me.
