Page 94 of Average Joe

I hated the man for hurting Joe. “He’s still there?”

“He’ll die there.” His answer was gruff, and he swallowed hard. “That club is his family.”

“Jeez, Joe. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry for me, gorgeous.” Joe rolled back to his side and drew lines around my nipples with his finger. “Mom was the best. My grandparents helped as much as they could until they passed. I had Frank and Con, and I had Alice. My life was good.”

When I asked, “Do you see your father anymore?” Joe moved his hand to rest again on my belly.

“Spent the past six years working for him,” he mumbled.

He may as well have punched me. “What?” I flipped to my side, bringing my nose to his neck. “I thought you had just gotten out of prison when you came back.”

The jerk had the nerve to laugh. “You assumed.”

“And you let me keep on assuming.”

Warm fingers dug into my waist and rocked our bodies closer. “Would you have heard me out?”

“I don’t know,” I answered honestly, then threw a leg over his hip because the man was hard again and I wanted that thick erection between my thighs.

My phone chimed.

“Not now,” I groaned.

Joe reached over my head, snatched my cell from the nightstand, and placed it in my hand.

The text was from an unknown number.

It’s your dad. We need to talk.

I hit delete. The phone chimed again.

Don’t ignore me, baby girl. We need to talk.

“Speaking of shitty dads,” I grumbled.

The annoyance was plucked from my fingers and tossed to the end of the bed. Then Joe helped me forget about the sins of our fathers with a few of his own wicked tricks.

* * *

My internal alarm blared, jolting me awake. “What time is it?” I reached for the phone that wasn’t there.

Joe rolled over, checked his cell, mumbled, “Four-thirty,” then dropped his head back into his pillow.

“Shit. Shit. Shit!” Panic fueled my frenzy while I searched in the dark for my clothes and hopped around attempting to dress. When decent enough, I jumped on the bed, slapped Joe’s fabulous ass, and said, “See ya later.”

“Wait, I’ll drive you.”

“No. I’m fine.” I jogged down the stairs, hollered for Bruce, and made it out the door just as Joe stumbled down the steps, trying to wrestle into his sweats.

“Marley, wait.”

When I passed my driveway, a cold chill crept up my spine. My skin prickled, and a heavy dread weighted the air. At the door, I glanced left, then right as I wiggled the key in the lock.

A low whistle came from the direction of Mr. Slavic’s yard. Bruce barked at the same time I whipped around. A hooded figure stood in the road, and my blood turned frosty.

He stared. I couldn’t move. Bruce continued to bark but stayed at my feet, the hairs on his nape raised, his butt rubbing my thigh like he was trying to herd me inside the house.

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