Page 75 of Average Joe

Funny thing, Marley greeted him wearing a pink sweatshirt zipped tight.

She smiled. Talked. Laughed. Handed the goon a drink without taking any money. When Harper drove away, she tipped her face to the sky, took a deep breath, then turned and disappeared.

My blood boiled. Johan Harper and Marley appeared too friendly for my liking.How much prison time would I get for shaving a man’s flesh from his bones with a potato peeler? Would the rose bushes be the first place they looked for his body?

Ha. I chuckled. Burying a man in my backyard wouldn’t fly; Ginger would have him dug up in a matter of hours.

Shit. I scrubbed a hand over my face. My need to protect Marley had me contemplating murder. Mom and Alice had always teased me about being overprotective, and old habits did, indeed, die hard.

Good thing I’d had no plans for the day. Under the guise of watching out for my girl, I followed Harper.

His first stop was Pink Sweets in the Georgetown neighborhood, where he talked too long with the barista. Next, he headed to the first of many Dirty Dreamz locations, Marley’s competition, where he went inside carrying a paper bag, stayed fifteen minutes, then came out empty-handed. That fucker made his rounds for the next two hours, the same routine at each.

His last visit took us to the Dirty Dreamz across the street from Emerald Glow Nails. When Harper didn’t come out after thirty minutes, I headed home, cursing myself for wasting time to confirm what I already knew. Johan Harper was a low-rent mob boss, and the scantily clad women of Dirty Dreamz were under his thumb.

* * *

Marley brought the bottle to her lips, staring into the dark kitchen while she curled her fingers through the scruff on Ginger’s nape, lost in thought or, knowing her, devising an escape plan for the evening. Food and drink had softened the furrow between her brows, and I now hoped they would loosen her tongue.

Heh. That tongue.

With great restraint, I stayed on my end of the sofa. If things went my way, the only activity involving tongues would be talking. My plan was to get the woman to open up, trust me enough to share. Hence, my kitchen was stocked with every manner of alcoholic beverage. I’d even made a trip to the cannabis shop in case weed was her go-to unwinder after a hard day’s work.

She’d arrived freshly showered, no makeup, hair knotted, wearing clothing that hid her shape—gray sweats two sizes too big, a men’s-cut baggy white tee with the letters FTP over her chest.

If I had to guess, she’d tried to look as unappealing as possible, not that she was unattractive by any means, but Marley doubted my sincerity about wanting to know her better, and maybe her attire was a test. Maybe she just liked loose clothing after wearing her skin-tight, next-to-nothing work costume all day. Perhaps she was trying to turn me off. Who knew? What she didn’t understand was that she could shave her head bald, wear a damn knapsack, and not shower for weeks, and I’d still be the unemployed big lug who was head over heels for his neighbor. I finished my Fat Tire, cleared my throat, and said, “We need to talk.”

Marley swallowed, set her bottle on the coffee table, Ginger on the floor, then turned to face me and whispered, “Okay.”

The woman was too far away. “C’mere.” I offered my hand.

Much to my pleasure, she obliged, crawling across the couch, straddling my hips, then settling, ass on my thighs, hands on my chest, our faces close, and fuck, my brain glitched, everything going fuzzy before coming back online.

With Marley in my lap, an eternity could pass, and I’d be none the wiser. No man stood a chance against that sugary sweet, fresh-baked cookie scent she wore.

I gripped her waist and held her steady. “I could eat you alive right now.”

“Then do it,” she commanded.

I stopped her hand’s descent to my groin. “First things first.”

Her fiery glare promised a battle, and battle we would after I said my peace.

“I’ve kept my mouth shut about the other night. Figured if you wanted to talk about why you spent all day drowning your sorrows, you would.”

The spark in her eyes fizzled. “That’s nobody’s business but mine.” She studied my face, waited for a reaction, no doubt ready to run if I gave her grief. “My private pain to process.”

So help me, my chest cracked open, all fight draining.

“All right, gorgeous, I won’t bring that night up again.” I brought our mouths together until she softened against me. “But we do need to talk about something else.”

“Joe,” she purred, grinding down on my groin. “I didn’t come here to talk.”

I managed to mutter through the torment, “There was a man at your house the other morning.”

She listened without a lick of emotion on her face while I described the vehicle. But when I said, “I’ve seen that same car three times since, driving by real slow. Sometimes stopping, then moving on.”

“You think someone’s following me?”

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