Page 40 of Bad Men

I got a grinning kissy face emoji as a response followed by, “It’s quiet. I got bored. I’m researching.”

I groaned under my breath. “Researching?”

Another gif appeared as if in response. This one had a woman on her back, legs open to one man’s cock while the other guy was at her head getting sucked.

“This looks fun, too,” she commented.

“Jesus Christ,” I moaned to myself.

“Is Nero with you? Is he busy?”

“No, he’s at home. Why?” It wasn’t until I’d hit send when I realized she’d added us to a group chat. She was probably hoping he would be answering, too. “He’s sleeping,” I lied, feeling the inexplicable urge to save her from the knowledge that Nero had planned to kill her, had come much too close. She didn’t need to know about that. “You wore him out.”

“Lol. Not my fault you guys are so hot.”

“You’re pretty damn hot yourself,” I wrote back with a lack of enthusiasm I normally wouldn’t have felt when talking about sex, or the prospect of sex.

Mentions of Nero had dampened the excitement I’d been feeling. Even the gifs weren’t enough to resurface the thrill. I closed my screen and dumped the phone into the cup holder.

I knew I had to talk to him eventually. Never mind that we lived together, he was my best friend, had been since we were in diapers. That kind of bond meant something. As pissed off as I was, and God knew how fucking pissed I was, he was my brother in all the ways that mattered. I couldn’t let this break us up.

Accepting what needed to be done, I pulled away from the curb and drove back to Mia’s diner. I parked out front and made my way inside for a cup of coffee and my own stool for the next seven hours.

The wait wasn’t nearly as unbearable as I’d imagined. I got to watch Mia in her element, watch her make people laugh and leave with a smile on their faces. She was quick, too. The kind of waitress every diner needed. I found I really enjoyed studying her every motion. I liked the swing of her hips, the sway of her hair, the way she laughed even though the joke was dumb as fuck. I liked that she shot me a grin every time she passed my stool. More than all that, I liked watching guys hit on her and her shut them down.

“Are you sure you want to stay?” she asked after the twentieth time.

“If I wanted to leave, I would,” I said, sipping at my third cup of coffee; at that rate, I would be up for the next twenty hours, but she made a mean brew. I probably could have lived off the stuff.

“Well, can you at least order something then?” she tapped her pencil on her pad. “You’ve been drinking coffee since you got here. It’s not good for you.” The bell behind her jingled under the large palm that slammed down on it. She turned away and gathered up the steaming plates. “How about a plate of fries?” she offered, already skirting around the counter in the direction of the food’s owners.

Fries did sound nice, but I didn’t want her waiting on me, as ridiculous as that sounded; waiting on people was literally her entire job, but if I wanted food, I would make my own, which was complicated when I wasn’t able.

She delivered the three plates of fully loaded burgers to the three jocks squished into a booth in the corner. One of them — the one who had been doing most of the talking, a pimply-faced blond with moron written all over him — said something to her that she laughed off with a wave of her hand. He seemed to persist before passing her a folded napkin. I didn’t need to see it to know he’d given her his number.

Mia peered down at it, then at him. Her smile never faltered, not even when she set the napkin back down and shook her head. Then, to my utter astonishment, she pointed to me and gave him a little shrug.

All three pairs of eyes glanced in my direction and I returned it with my deadliest stare, daring them to try again.

They turned back to their food without another word. Mia returned to me with a grin twisting up the one corner of her mouth.

“What’d you tell them?” I asked when she regained her spot on the other side of the counter.

“That you were my brother and have been super overprotective since you had to kill my last boyfriend.”

I would have believed her if it wasn’t for the twinkle in her eyes and the laugh she was failing miserably to conceal.

“Liar,” I mumbled.

Mia broke in a fit of giggles. “I told them I was already taken by you, so they were out of luck.”

She swung away and set a torn slip from her pad on the pickup window. The meaty hand I occasionally saw dragging receipts in and food out, snatched the piece of paper and disappeared with it.

“I can’t wait to finally get out of here,” she said once she’d returned. “I just want to take off my shoes and curl up on the couch.”

“You want me to take you home?” I offered.

She thought about it for a full two seconds before giving me a shake of her head. “Not unless you want to take me home.”

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