Page 113 of Tormented

“I know.” He gives her a squeeze and lets her go.

Touching your things again . . . .

Seriously—stop reminding me.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. “Guess I’ll go find the boss then, yeah?”

Abbey watches me with a slight frown as I completely dismiss her and walk toward the door that adjoins the garage to the clubhouse. It’s not as though I want to be a complete asshole to her, more that if I so much as catch a whiff of her, touch her, or look at her too long I’m likely to pick her ass up and march it to the nearest flat surface so I can fuck the shit out of her.

She was eyeballed by Rooster.

Watched as she walked into the Starbucks by some frat boys.

And hit on by the fucker at our last gas stop.

And now Fingers—platonic as it is—having his hands all over her . . . .

A man needs to claim his territory from time to time.

Just that now isn’t the right time.

King’s standing out on the back deck, watching his son run around and kick a ball with Callum. He turns as I approach, holding out a hand for a quick clinch on greeting.

“You made it. Abbey still in one piece?”

“Ha-ha.”

“Serious. Is she?”

I shake my head as he laughs.

“You realize,” he says, “that without Cash around we’ve lost a connection to the men he dealt with. He had a unique channel to a couple of elite buyers.”

Back it up. “We?”

King turns his head to look at me again. “Yeah. I told Tuck I’d help in exchange for his assistance with our latest problem.”

The one Tap said fell on King’s doorstep. “What is the problem now?”

He huffs out his nose, frowning. “Bronx may have got himself tangled up with a girl while he’s undercover, a girl who also happens to be Tuck’s estranged daughter.”

“Fuckin’ small world.”

“That it is,” he says flatly. King leans back, checking behind us for I’m assuming the girl in question. “Don’t say anything though. It’s a long story, but basically she still thinks Tuck is her uncle until he can get here and explain otherwise.”

“So how is any of this our issue?” I mean, I think Tuck is great and all that, but . . . .

“We offered protection in exchange for manpower when we deal with Carlos.”

“Well, ain’t that kind.”

“As if I’d be able to turn him down anyway,” King mumbles more to himself than anything else. “Might as well make sure I get somethin’ out of it.”

“What’s the current situation with that fucker who sired me? Any news?”

King’s mouth quirks up in a lopsided grin. “No news. He’s blissfully livin’ out his days, unaware they’ll be his last.”

I scoff. “He treats every day like his last. Asshole has that many enemies, I swear he doesn’t even take a shit without sweepin’ the room first.”