Page 133 of The Outlaw's Savage Revenge

Cade watches me for a long beat, his expression unreadable. Then, his lips twitch into a slow, infuriating smile that makes my pulse stutter. “Noted.”

I narrow my eyes. “You think I’m kidding?”

His finger hooks under my jaw, tilting my face up until our gazes lock. “No, I don’t think you’re kidding, Luciana. And for the record, I like it when you get territorial.”

“Territorial?” I step back from him just enough to make my point. “I’m not territorial, I just—”

“Baby.” He doesn’t even let me finish. His hands slide down to my hips as he drags me back against him. “You might as well pee all over me at this point.”

My jaw drops at the crude visual. “Cade!”

“Relax.” His chuckle is rough, dripping with male satisfaction as his hands tighten on my waist. “It’s a compliment. Though, if you ever want to go there . . .”

“Caden!” I hiss, glaring up at him. He only laughs harder, soaking up my indignation, the bastard.

I should smack the smug grin off his face. I should. But the ache building low in my belly makes it hard to think about anything other than dragging him into the nearest corner to finish what he just started.

40

Luna

The bell over the door jingles as we step into the diner. Chrome gleams everywhere—counter, napkin holders, trim—like stepping into the past. Booths line the walls, their black cushions worn with stories.

We slide into a booth and are just settling in when a buxom waitress bounces to our table, her eyes lighting up like Christmas morning at the sight of Cade.

“Oh my God, Cade!” she gushes, her voice dripping with adoration. “You’re back! It’s . . . so good to have you back home!”

Cade blinks, his eyes suddenly shuttered as his gaze quickly scans over her, then back to her face. I recognize that look now. It’s the same way he looked at me at Enigma. I thought it was lust. Now I know better—it’s clinical. He’s reading any telltale signs that she needs help.

“It’s good to be back, Betty,” Cade replies. “Your boss treating you okay?”

“Um. Yes.” She twists her fingers in her apron. “I had no idea you’d be here. I would have . . . well, I don’t know what I would have done . . .”

Cade smiles kindly, putting the waitress out of her misery. “You wanna start me with black coffee?”

“Yeah.” She nods like a bobblehead, her eyes still glued to him like she’s afraid he’ll disappear. Then, almost reluctantly, she turns to me. “And for—?”

“My Old Lady will have a flat white. Thanks, darling.”

I freeze.

Betty’s gaze darts to me, then back to Cade, and her face goes beet red before she spins on her heel and all but runs to the counter.

I blink after her retreating form, then slowly turn my head to Cade, who’s leaning back in the booth like nothing just happened. His lips twitch in that infuriating way that tells me he knows exactly what he just did.

“Your Old Lady, huh?” I ask, arching a brow.

His smirk deepens, lazy and cocky, and he lifts one shoulder in a shrug. “Victoria called it. And I trust her judgment.”

I laugh despite myself, shaking my head. “Oh, we’re making life decisions based on a six-year-old now? Good to know.”

“She’s never wrong,” he says easily, “Besides, princess . . .” He leans forward, resting his forearms on the table, his voice low. “You want the label.”

My mouth opens to deny it, but nothing comes out. Damn him. He’s right. Between Phoenix’s cold reception and his rough biker family, yeah, I want something that makes it clear I belong here.

So,instead of arguing, I roll my eyes and nod toward the waitress I already know is another one of Cade’s ‘damsels.’ “Interesting woman. Which hell did you pull her out of? The Cartel’s or the Bratva’s?”

Cade’s smirk stretches into a wicked grin. “Your uncle Pascal’s.”

---