Page 28 of Play Dirty (Brooklyn Dawn 1)

I flexed my free hand against my leg. It was still sore from earlier. Add in some sanding and stacking of lumber—yeah, it was way more manual labor than I was used to. “If you wanted some blood to help your crops grow, should have just asked.”

“I already have some of that. Sacrificial virgins are only used around harvest.”

My lips twitched. “Where’s Lo?”

“Groveling to his pretty wife.”

“Is it working?”

He took a long sip. “Nope.”

“She’s a good woman. Too good for him, and yet she endures.”

“The best of them do.”

Our conversation lagged after that, but it was a good silence. Jacob didn’t require inane conversation, which I appreciated. I hated filling the void for no reason. I didn’t know him and he didn’t know me—well, other than we were both alcoholics. If I had a chip for everyone who was, I’d be even richer.

Not that I did the chip program. A few days of night sweats after I’d gotten out of the hospital had been enough of a detox program for me. After I’d been weaned off the drugs in the burn unit, saying no to whiskey and the rest seemed easy.

Most nights anyway.

Logan strolled over to join us. “Izzy said we can come get the door tomorrow morning since you stained it to match the downstairs. Not sure why you get the hall pass and I don’t, but there you go.”

“Because she lost her mad. Takes a w

hile to navigate a woman, Lo. Someday you’ll get it.”

“I just try not to piss her off.” Logan laced his fingers behind his neck to stretch. “Nash brings out the best in me.”

“Obviously.”

“Not a compliment.”

“Ah, but you meant it to be, fecker.”

Logan flipped me off. I did miss our easy banter. No one quite got me like Lo. A lifetime of playing any dive that would take us when we were young and stupid would do that to a body. Even my best friend Kyle and I didn’t quite have the same history. Probably why I barely bitched when Logan dragged me into his schemes.

Except this one.

What the hell had I been thinking saying yes to a damn Christmas album?

I’d been mixing the fucking thing for weeks now. They weren’t exactly the typical standards. Most of the artists had either written a song with me or Lo, but they were all mostly happy. Rot your teeth out of your head sweet for a few of them. Just what the general public wanted.

People who were not me.

“Thanks for letting us interrupt your work and for appeasing my wife.”

Jacob lifted a shoulder. “She knows if she doesn’t make you do things right away, they don’t get done.”

Logan grunted, but didn’t dispute it.

One way we were very different. My studio was ruthlessly set up the way I wanted it. Logan was more laid back about such things. The end product of his music was amazing, but there was a rawness I had trouble allowing to live in my production.

Then again, that was why Logan was universally loved, while I was an acquired taste.

“We’ll get out of your hair.” Logan held out his hand. “Thanks, Stacks. Saved my ass again.”

“I’m just racking up the favors for a big one.”

---