Page 100 of Darling Psycho

The act was beautiful, better than she’d ever imagined it being, but his execution and reason for dragging her off stank.

And now she was back to being mad at him.

Having known, or at least guessed at what a relationship with a psycho sadist control freak would be like, he’d shown her up close and personal, and though she’d been turned on, she’d meant it by needing boundaries and a talk first.

She was shivering when she let herself in, teeth chattering as she slipped off her coat and let the warmth of the cabin heat envelop her while Oscar ran forward for a pet. The cat was closely followed by a broody man, taller than God and infinitely eviler.

If she expected an argument, he soon burst her balloon, letting her know never to expect anything predictable where he was concerned because Lawless gently reached for the scarf around her neck. Unwinding it, he dumped that and her purse. Then, taking her by the hand, the man she was crazy about led her into the family room, where a roaring log fire was crackling in the fireplace. He took her to the closest seat, and before she plopped down, his lips touched hers.

That one brief touch evaporated everything she’d been stewing in for the past six hours. It was Lawless’ superpower. Or just the power he held over her.

“You look tired. How was the first shift?”

“Besides having to deal with an asshole who gave me a sore throat, it was fun.”

Lawless chuckled without remorse. A hand came around her neck, and he stroked her gently. Then, with little effort, he utterly derailed her when he was nice, so she stood there like an idiot, letting him stroke her throat until he nudged her to sit.

It was while he walked away she noticed the gray sweats cupping his perfectly shaped ass.

Wonderful. He’d used another weapon against her.

Sneaky biker. Shots were fired, and they were wearing butt-hugging sweats.

A fire, hot chocolate (which he brought a minute later), and his tight-ass gray pants with a black t-shirt. He might as well have thrown his dick in her face again if he’d wanted her to surrender to his will.

Cradling the hot cup in two hands, smelling the sugar rising from the steam and the pile of whipped cream he’d put on top, she sighed, resting her head back. She was tired. On her next shift, she’d remember to wear sneakers instead of heeled boots. Her poor feet were screaming. Bar work was no joke. Bar Icy had been heaving since opening at 11 a.m. and was still hopping when she left. Zara and the rest only hung around for an hour. She suspected they’d dropped by to make sure her first day went okay. Crazy people. She loved them all.

“Don’t go to sleep,” the robotic voice said from the kitchen area. “dinner won’t take long.”

At the mention of food, Angela cracked one eye open, her belly growling, reminding her she ate nothing because a manipulating asshole was making her give him a blowie.

“Is it pasta?”

“Yes, it’s pasta.”

Yay. She could stay awake for pasta, but she kicked off her boots and curled up on the soft couch, letting the comfy cushions cradle her sore body.

On the other side of the couch, two of Lawless’ laptops sat open. Both were showing two different feeds. The one she focused on was of a warehouse.

“Who are you spying on?”

“I followed your suggestion and found Ruiz’s guy, Ricardo. And the crates are firearms.”

“Fancy,” she remarked, “Illegal, I take it?”

“Very. And worth millions.”

“Why are we watching him and his guns?”

We. She’d always aligned herself with Lawless; there was no point changing a habit of a lifetime now. She was with him, no matter what.

“Thought it would be fun to watch their warehouse being raided.”

With Angela on one side of the couch and Lawless on the other, the laptops between them, they ate pasta. The Mexican police raid was pretty anticlimactic. She didn’t know what she expected. Something from a movie, maybe? But it went without a hitch. Police swarmed and took control of the situation. The Ricardo guy and several others were arrested. After it was over, she took the bowls, washed them up, and returned to the living room, a coffee for Lawless, who was now watching the second laptop. It was of an audio feed, with no cameras.

“So, this was to mess with Ruiz?”

“Misdirection. No man likes his business being disrupted.”

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