Page 111 of The Outlaw's Savage Revenge

I shrug. “I don’t know. It’s like you said, it’s convenient to have a body double.” My fingers skim over the muscles of his uninjured shoulder. “Why don’t I meet this other Cade Quinn and see which one I like better—”

Cade pins me against the truck and crushes his mouth to mine with a raw, desperate intensity that steals my breath. There’s something almost . . . showy in the way he lifts my ass and wraps my thighs around his hips as he brutally ruts into me. Like he’s staking a claim.

“You’re mine alone,” he growls against my lips, swallowing my whimper as he grinds into me again.

“Cade, I was only joking—”

“Say it.” He barks.

“Fine, I’m yours al—”

He doesn’t let me finish. As if he’d rather taste the words, he devours my mouth again, tangling his tongue with mine. And then,just as abruptly, he releases me and jerks back like he’s been burned. I stagger against the truck, knees suddenly like jelly.

Message received loud and clear; he is not that generous.

Once my balance is restored, I look up, and my breath catches. Suddenly I realize why Cade stopped trying to fuck me right in the open.

The other Cade Quinn is coming down the limestone steps, and oh boy . . .

He looksexactlylike Cade.

Same muscular build. Same broad shoulders. Dark blond hair and stubbled jaw. He’s even dressed like Cade in a torso-molding t-shirt.

Only, there’s something about the way he moves that is . . . oddly mesmerizing. It’s fast and soundless. Almost like gliding. I didn’t think it was possible for anything to walk like that.

I can’t stop staring as he gets nearer, noticing other details like the long scar running down the side of his face, from his temple to his jaw.

My spine stiffens, however, when I notice their tattoos also match perfectly, right down to the puckered skin around his wrist. It’s like a mockery of Cade’s pain.

Acid burns through me—an instant, visceral dislike.

How dare he wear Cade’s skin like this?

The only relief comes from the military dog tag hanging at his throat. If he’d worn a metal rosary too, I might claw his eyes out—and yep, they’re green, too.

“Well, aren’t you two cozy,” Scar drawls when he reaches us. His voice is just as deep, although it lacks Cade’s rough timbre.

Scar pulls Cade into a hug, burying his face in the crook of Cade’s neck. Scar’s lids fall closed for a split second before he pulls back. And instantly I know Cade means a lot to this man.

“You look like shit, Pretty,” Scar teases.

Pretty? The nickname catches me off guard; it’s so at odds with Cade’s hard edges.

“Long day,” is all Cade offers, but I catch the way his shoulders tense.

Scar’s attention shifts to me. When Cade remains silent, Scar huffs and steps toward me with a wry smile. “Ah, you must be Luna. I’m Scar. The one who cleans up after him,” he jerks a rough, almost deformed tipped thumb toward Cade.

I chuckle despite myself and extend my hand. “Nice to meet you, Scar.”

Scar glances at my hand, smirks, then pulls me into a bear hug. “Likewise,” he says when he releases me. “So, I gather you’ve been keeping him up at night.”

I shrug, unsure how to take the comment. “Funny, I thoughthewas the one keepingmeup.”

Scar throws his head back and laughs. “Confident. I like that.

Scar’s gaze flickers back to Cade and lingers. “Fuck, Pretty. You look like you could use a strong drink.”

“Or ten.” Cade mutters, then claps him on the shoulder. “Shower and dressing change first.”

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