Page 21 of No Saint
“Looks like it.” Grinning, he kicked a can of cat food across the floor. “Cassie’s going to lose her shit.”
Dog sprinted back inside, going straight for a Roller Burger bag and tearing into it.
“Drop it!” I shouted, tripping over garbage on my way through the living room.
I’d just managed to wrestle a half-eaten, molded cheeseburger from him when the front door banged shut. “What the hell happened in here?” Cassie asked. “Did you piss off your garbage guys or something?”
Jade lingered in the entrance, her gaze drifting around the literal dump. I shouldn’t have cared what she thought of the mess, but nonetheless, an embarrassed heat crept over my cheeks.
“I think you need fumigators,” Jade mumbled, pulling her shirt over her nose. “Not a blackmailed maid.”
“Maids areexactlywhat we need.” Rogue stumbled through the disaster area. “Cleaning supplies are under the kitchen sink, ladies.”
Cassie shot a death glare at Rogue’s back. “You asshole. You expect us to clean this up?”
“No shit.”
Cassie reached for an empty can. I knew exactly where that was going—the back of his head.
“Okay…” Jade latched onto Cassie, then steered her toward the kitchen, mumbling something about a shit sandwich.
My attention dropped to Jade’s ass right before she disappeared around the corner. Having her in my space was about as unsettling as me digging up a corpse and propping it on the couch. Only this corpse was hot as fuck and hated me. God, this was going to be a long month.
Three hours later, the girls were still cleaning downstairs. Thank fuck the smell of hot garbage had gone. Electronic gunfire rang out from the TV speakers, followed by a zombie roar, but my focus wasn’t on the game Bellamy and I were playing. It was on Jade, bent over, on all fours, rubber gloves in place, while she scrubbed gum off the scratched hardwood.
“What the hell, Wolf? You’re supposed to be guarding the bridge!” Creepy-ass screeches came from the TV, followed by Bellamy shouting obscenities. “Seriously! Ten zombies are on me. Come revive me!” His palm smacked the back of my head, pulling my attention away from Jade’s incredible ass. “Put your dick away, and pay attention to the game.”
My gaze strayed to the decaying avatars surrounding Bellamy’s. “You take this shit too seriously.”
“Man, if I die, I can’t play for thirty more minutes.”
I moved my player back to the snow-covered bridge, pecking off zombies when they approached. But every once in a while, my attention drifted back to Jade’s ass.
And every time it did, my dick hardened a little more.
Bellamy shouted at me to focus, but I couldn’t. And that was bad news for me because that distraction was going to be here day in, day out. Bent over and scrubbing floors. Sleeping. Showering. I didn’t have to try to imagine what she’d look like naked and dripping wet—I knew. That image had been branded into my memory and haunted my dreams for years.
My stomach knotted. I had enough shit going on. I definitely didn’t need the constant reminder of what I used to have prancing around. And honestly, my dick couldn’t take it. I’d told Rogue that making them live here was a dumb idea, but it wasn’t until right then that I realized it wasn’t just stupid. It was going to be torture.
“I think I’m done.” A pleased look crossed Jade’s face as she looked around the now spotless room. Three hours of cleaning up literal shit, and she had a smile on her face? There was no way she was happy to clean up that mess. And if this was supposed to be punishment…
I nodded toward the corner where Dog’s makeshift bed was. The makeshift bed she’d just made, his gutted rat toy pride of place. “Missed a spot. Think it’s probably puke.”
Bellamy snorted before a round of gunfire sounded through the speakers.
“Really, Wolf?”
The immature fuckhead inside of me delighted in the annoyance in Jade’s voice. Shrugging, I aimed my avatar’s shotgun and blew off a zombie’s leg. “Doesn’t look clean to me.”
I glanced back in time to catch her glare at me, then she aimed her spray bottle in the direction of the bed and gave it a hard squirt.
“There.”
Dog ran over, sniffed the spot she’d just sprayed, and sneezed.
“Now that I’ve cleaned up after you like children with no basic life skills, what would you like next?” she asked, her tone arsenic-laced and sugary sweet. She tossed her gloves onto the coffee table. “Maybe I can teach you the alphabet? Or read you a bedtime story?”
Smartass. I met her patronizing gaze, then reached for my backpack at the end of the sofa. “Not really one for bedtime stories.” I chucked the bag onto the coffee table. “But my algebra homework is in the red notebook.”
