Page 240 of Back in the Saddle

Jeff made a frustrated snarly noise when I used his street name.

“She doesn’t want to know how you earned that, brother,” Javi remarked.

“She really doesn’t, but I’ll tell you,” Titus said to Henny, then bent his neck to where my cat lay on his chest and whispered something in his pointed ear.

Since Henny had no reaction, I sensed he was unimpressed by this news.

But they were right.

I really didn’t want to know.

However.

I turned my gaze to Javi. “You’re in this too,hermanito.”

“No, I’m not,” Javi said, taking a pinch of grated cheese from the bowl Eric had put it in and sprinkling it in his mouth. He swallowed that and said, “If someone was gonna roll on them, we were going in with them. Those boys took care of business before we got there, and I don’t blame them. That shit had to end. It did. Done.” He then popped a black olive in his mouth.

“Instead of eating it all, you can help Eric by slicing those olives,” I stated.

Not missing a beat, Eric got a knife and put it in front of Javi.

At this juncture, I noticed my guy hadn’t waded into any of this, not at all.

It was like he was inured to crazy.

And I loved him for it.

Javi got up, walked around the bar, repositioned the cutting board while corralling the rolling olives, and got to work.

“Speaking of olives,” Titus said from the couch. “I wouldn’t say no to another one of your martinis.”

Now someone was speaking my language.

I headed straight to the bar cart.

“Jess, we’re not finished discussing this,” Jeff declared.

I picked up the kickass shaker Javi bought me and turned to my brother.

“Yes, we are. Everyone I love is alive, breathing, healthy. I don’t have to do stakeouts anymore. And I’ve got a new mission of finding sexier nighties than the off-the-chart sexy ones I already have, because Eric has seen all those.”

Jeff raised a hand. “TMI.”

“You came in, mouth a’blazin’, you deal with the fallout,” I returned.

“Lucky man, honcho,” Titus said from the couch to Eric.

Eric just smiled at the guacamole he was forking together.

“To end,” I continued, “you also don’t have to be in a safe house anymore, another plus. Now, fortunately, before another shitstorm hits, I’ll have time to find the perfect Taser holster. Life is good. Take a load off, stop distracting me from my cocktail shaker, and let it be good, Jeff.”

He glowered at me.

I took it.

He kept doing it.

I kept taking it.

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