Page 17 of Flint

I hang up and run across the road to beat the oncoming car. The fact that it slows down a bit has me turning to watch it drive off.

Weird. They slowing for me or to check out the people talking on the porch?

I ain’t one to believe in Spidey-senses and all that, but my gut feeling kicks in, and I notice their license plate is missing. Coincidence? Doubtful.

I check the street more carefully now. I’m on edge after that call, and got to say, I kind of wouldn’t mind if Kitten isn’t killed. She ain’t so bad, you know, after you get over the annoying bits. Which there are a lot of.

“What’s the holdup?” I grunt to Prospect as I see Kitten just glaring at him.

He shrugs and shows his annoyance. “She won’t let me break a window.”

“Really?”

“Really?” She turns that glare on me. “That’s all you’ve got to say? Of course I don’t want him busting windows. He might claim I live here, but I have no idea. What if this is a stranger’s place? Or what if I don’t live alone or this isn’t even mine? Heck, I could be renting, and breaking a window could be a viable reason for kicking me out. And then I’m sleeping on the curb, in the rain, with no money or memory.”

“Um, how is rain a factor in your little melodrama?” I raise an eyebrow at her, not even trying to see it from her angle.

She throws her arms up, winces, glares at me, then continues on this crazy tirade. Damn, she’s adorable like this.

“It rained last night, remember? Try to keep up, detective. We wouldn’t be in this mess if I didn’t slip because of the rain.”

I take a step closer. “Do you remember that?” I ask cautiously, not tipping my hand to what I now know about the texts and tire markings on the hill.

“Obviously. Already established non-ninja skills here. I tripped like eight times when I followed you all to the club last night. Safe bet to determine I probably tripped while running.”

I share a quick look with Prospect, one that says I ain’t agreeing to her thought process. He perks up instantly, understanding what I’m not saying: foul play.

“Now, are either of you bikers the kind that come from a rough childhood that had you breaking and entering into houses by picking locks and not just smashing windows with rocks?” she asks with a bat of her eyes.

“Are you fucking serious?”

The group of us turns to see a Disney princess stomping through the yard toward us. Okay, not a princess, not by the glare she’s sporting that’s probably meant to kill small animals. She’s a bit heavyset, but the girl’s got nice curves that seem to make the sparkly pink thing she’s wearing look elegant. If not for the fact that it’s got brown down the side, which I think is paint, and the tiara is bent, and her blonde mass of curls is sticking out the side with what looks like gum holding it in place.

“Um, hi?” Julianne says with a small wave, and I step in front of her. I immediately regret this when I get the side-eye from her and a smirk from the prospect. He better keep his damn trap closed when he talks to the brothers later.

“Don’t ‘hi’ me, you skank. Want to tell me why you left me to do the fucking overnight alone? And don’t say it’s because you were with these two last night.”

Damn, that isn’t nice. Kitten might be a mess, but she ain’t completely unfuckable.

“You’re way too good for them, so I know they don’t even have a chance in hell with you,” she continues.

Okay, ouch again. When did it become open season on bashing the bikers? We might be hard-core, but we got feelings, too, you know.

“So spit it out already. You fall off a cliff or something? Forget you forced me into doing this shit with you? Or did you just want to have a good laugh at my expense? Come on, out with it, bitch. Which is it?” the woman seethes.

“Um, all of it? I mean, not the last one but the first two, I guess.”

I’m still not letting Kitten out from behind me, moving my stance to keep blocking her. And the way I feel her hand on my cut, I’ve got half a mind to think she’s okay with me being the added barrier. Not even going to touch how I feel about her hand on me, possessive and all that shit. I give zero fucks about it at all.

Yeah fucking right, and bears don’t shit in the woods.

“ Jules, you’re killing me here.”

“Ha! I do have a nickname.” I can’t fight the smile as I turn to see her stab a finger into Prospect’s stomach, hard by the slight grimace on his face.

“Hey, I never said you didn’t.”

“But you didn’t say I did. Thus you suck as my stalker, and I’m now accepting new applicants if anyone wants to throw in a résumé or two. What say you, jackass? Interested? We already get to be best buddies, so why not kick it up a notch?” She’s doing that damn adorable thing again, waggling her eyebrows.

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