Page 84 of Burn Bag

“It’s only for another couple of days,” she smiled, hurrying away before I could argue. “I already found homes for several of them, but we have to give people time to get supplies together.”

“At this rate, we should just have food and litter trucked in. We could probably get wholesale prices,” I said sarcastically.

Of course, Daphne, being the wonderful wife she was, popped up with a smile on her face. “That’s a great idea.”

“I was joking,” I said quickly, attempting to stand up, only to have the cat stretch his paw out as if he was pushing me back down. “Daphne, we are not ordering a truck full of litter and food.”

“Why not? It would make sense.”

“Because…because it would not!”

What I really wanted to tell her was that I was concerned that it would only encourage her to get more cats.

“Well, I’ll talk to the other wives and see what they say.”

She continued to busy herself around the house, but I couldn’t do it. Everywhere I turned, there were cats. I couldn’t handle another minute of this. I shooed the cat, but he refused to move.

“Come on, you little fucker. Move.”

Still, he did nothing.

I tried nudging him, but that still didn’t do the trick. No matter how hard I tried, the cat just yawned and stretched out further. Finally, I picked him up and tossed him to the ground. Blinking slowly up at me, he jumped into my chair and laid back down.

“I’m leaving,” I called out, hoping she understood how pissed I was.

“Okay, sweetie!”

I rolled my eyes, marching to the door and slamming it behind me as I strode outside. Hopping in my truck, I was at the office in no time, ready to hit the gym or take a job, anything to keep me from spending another fucking minute in that house.

With her.

That smile, her golden hair, those large eyes that kept pleading with me to get along with the cats. Why couldn’t she plead with me to fuck her hard? That, I could do with my dick healed.

It was mostly scabbed over, but I was still a little gun-shy. Even the slightest touch had me flinching. If I ever wanted to get laid again, I was going to have to seek out a psychologist to get over this fear.

“Hey!” Fox grinned as he caught up to me, tossing some popcorn in his mouth. “Where’s the little missus? I was hoping we could work on her throwing technique today.”

“Not gonna happen,” I snarled, pressing the button on the elevator.

“Why not? She wanted to learn.”

“Because she’s not getting any weapons. The last thing I need is her getting any more ideas in her head.”

He snorted in amusement. “Okay,” he mocked. “You know, throwing knives is about more than death.”

“I know,” I growled. “You’ve turned all the women in this company into trained killers.”

“Well, not all of them.” He leaned in close, whispering as if this was the answer to all conspiracy theories, putting a rest to the questions behind JFK’s assassination. “Between you and me, Bree will never have what it takes to hack it.”

“Good to know. I was really worried about that.”

He flinched back, frowning at me. “You were? I could give you a roster of where everyone’s at in training right now.”

“Fox, I was fucking with you. I don’t give a shit where the women are. And I don’t care how much you think Daphne needs to train. She is not and never will take any classes with you.”

“You know, I think you’re jealous,” he grinned, munching on some more popcorn.

“I’m not jealous. I just don’t want you teaching my wife to murder people. And what the fuck is it with you eating popcorn? What happened to your Funyuns?”

---