Page 44 of Play Fast (Brooklyn Dawn 2)

Daisy looked thoroughly fucked.

She’d clearly tried to do something with her hair, but it stuck up in odd tufts. Running out of the bedroom with her arms full of sheets didn’t exactly diminish the look. Then she lowered her arms and it was even worse—at least for Noah.

Her neck and the skin above her cleavage was reddened with scruff burn and a hickey or two. Or three.

So much for being circumspect.

My chest swelled with pride and possession as if I’d just planted a flag on the astroturf. “He insisted,” I said when no one spoke.

“I was told you were injured.” Noah’s voice snapped out without inflection. “That you might need medical assistance.”

“I gave her all the assistance she needed.”

Yeah, that was bad even for me.

When Noah shot me a baleful glance, I cleared my throat. “I mean, I bandaged her wound.”

“Hmm.”

I stared hard at the back of Noah’s head and his close-cropped cut. His hair was as curly as mine was straight, which I bet pissed him the fuck off. He didn’t seem like a guy who tolerated errant hair behavior. Never mind such base activities as late afternoon fucking.

There was a reason I’d never enlisted. I was far too self-indulgent.

“He did a really good job,” Daisy offered.

“I just bet.”

Behind Noah, I smirked. Which good job she was referring to, I wasn’t sure. I was a multi-talented sort.

Also, I wouldn’t be crowing about this particular victory for long. I knew myself well enough that when the last of the endorphins faded and I was alone with my thoughts, I would kick my own ass. My eyes would close and my baby sister would be there, and then I’d see Daisy with denim cutoffs and her unlined face and entirely too sweet long blond ponytails.

I’d stripped away the last part of her innocence. Bully for me. But some part of me would grieve for what she’d lost—what we both had.

Neither of us had been truly innocent for a damn long time.

“And that bruise?” Noah crossed his arms. “Looks like he did a really good job with that too.”

I raked my fingers through my hair and turned. Looked like my self-inflicted ass-kicking would be starting earlier than I thought. Thanks, Noah. “I’ll leave you two alone. I’ll be out back.”

“I need you too, Osmond. I need the most complete account possible of what occurred.”

More Osmond. Who had I pissed off lately? I’d heard that name more often this weekend than in the last decade.

With a short nod, I led the way into the living room. “I’ll make coffee.” Which I would liberally lace with whisky in my case.

So different from your sister, huh?

“Black,” Mr. Chuckles commanded.

“Of course. I live to be of service.”

I thought I heard Daisy snort behind me, but I wasn’t sure.

I aimed for the kitchen and grabbed the box of sugar packets and fresh bottle of creamer I’d picked up at the store, then set the coffee to brew.

Damn, how long had Daisy and I been in bed? Obviously, a lot longer than I’d realized or else Chucklefest had broken some land speed records to get up here. Which seemed unlikely. He’d probably lock himself away for a lifetime of eternal solitude in penance for going one mile over the posted limit.

While the coffeemaker hummed, I moved to the laundry alcove to dig through the dryer to see if I had another set of sheets in there. Same place I’d found the jeans and shirt I was currently wearing. Earlier, I’d stomped out of the bedroom naked, and the dryer was the only source of clothes in this place outside of the trunk at the foot of the bed.

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