Page 103 of Fragile Facade
Soren laughs, not stepping back from me. “He accosted me in the shower and made me agree to spy on him.”
I growl, my fingers tightening around his throat. “Naked?”
“Yeah,sweetheart. Naked.” He licks his lips, and this time, I mirror him.
“Don’t make me kill one of our own, Sauder. I’ll do it.” I love Facts, but he doesn’t get a free pass to the body that belongs to me. “How long have you wanted to call me that?”
“Sweetheart?”
“Yeah.”
“Never. I just want to take the power away from it so it doesn’t piss me off every time you call me that.”
I smile and tilt my head at him, fingers drumming on the side of his neck. “Try again. Don’t lie this time.”
Soren scowls, unwilling to admit he loves the nickname. “Are we spying or what?”
I glance to the left again. “Facts looks like he’s got it under control.” The guy has no idea a jittery, uptight man who can’t understand sarcasm and can’t spout a lie to save his life is watching him like a hawk.
“Facts can’t talk around this guy. Let’s go talk to him and let Facts eavesdrop.” He steps back, but he grabs my hand, and yeah, I like that. I like it a lot.
Facts can talk ten miles a minute, so if he’s tongue-tied, it must be something extra special.
Moros erupts into cheers as Tom is walked down the dead centre of Death Row, half of The Misfits trailing him. He’s butt-ass naked, cock in a cage, a ball gag in his mouth, and a trail of anal beads hanging behind him. Ah, it’s the least that cocky fuck deserves. Doesn’t even surprise me that he’s glancing behind him, looking for his daddy.
When we get close to the target, Facts shakes his head in agitation, trying to warn us off, but Soren isn’t deterred.
“Can I bum one?” he asks the guy, who is lighting up a cigarette.
He passes us each a cigarette, offering the lighter to me first. “No problem. Killian, right?”
Soren scowls, not appreciating that my name is known but not his. “Yeah.” I tilt my head at my needy man. “And Soren.” I light my smoke and hand him the lighter.
“Novak,” he says, taking his lighter back from Soren. “I’ve seen you guys around. You own that music shop, right?”
“My brother does,” Soren says, eyeing this guy up. He’s got long blond hair and a scruffy short beard to match, real Viking or biker gang style, and I can’t believe this is the guy who Facts finally decided to get hot over. The guy looks like Thor. Maybe a bit less bulky. “What about you? You do something?”
“Was in the NAVY for most of my life, but didn’t take another tour when my mom got sick. When she died, I needed a change, and I’d been to Moros for trips. Bit of a true crime junkie, so this place spoke to me. I moved here with my cousin, and we’re both in the fire department now, fixing up our house in our spare time.” He shrugs, nodding at his cousin with a grin on his face. His cousin is throwing eggs at Tom, maniacally laughing as he does. “We fit in, I guess you could say.”
I like them. I look at Facts to find him leaning forward, trying to hear as much of the conversation as possible. Probably clamping his lips to repress his greeting when his eyes meet mine.
“I don’t wanna misspeak because you’re in The Misfits,” he says, looking at Soren, who is glaring, “but they really fucked up the old Fire Hall when they took it over.”
“New one is better,” I say before Soren blows his cover. “New leader of The Misfits is solid, though. He’ll bring them back around.”
Soren turns to Facts, ready to make sketchy introductions, but then the gathered crowd starts shouting, and we all look towards the street. Eggs fly, ravens squawk, citizens seethe, and bottles and cans whip across Death Row.
Yates. Torn and bloody, barely standing, beaten and tortured, finally doing the walk of shame he’s deserved for years. And right behind him, Lockan Tate holds the chain around his neck. The new Misfits leader is shirtless and flecked with blood, looking powerful as fuck and appealing because of it.
Soren steps up behind me, lips by my ear, brushing my new tattoo. “Get hard right now and I’ll cut it off.”
I turn my face towards his, a grin on my lips. “Trust me, sweetheart. If I get hard, it’ll be because you’re so fucking possessive.”
“I’m not possessive of shit,” he says against my lips. Yet, he grabs my jaw and forces my head to turn even more, eye to eye. “But facts are facts. I fucking own you, Killian.” He licks my healing tattoo to prove his point. Totally unsanitary, but yeah, that does it. My cock firms up, and like the egotistical prick he is, he pats it, knowing it’s hard for him. “Mmm,” he hums.
Time to knock him down a peg. I glance at Yates, pleased with how unified the town is now that the traitors have been caught, but it’s time for us to go. Moros has all come together, and we’re ready to face this war as a united front, so I can take the night off to face my own war with Soren Sauder, the man who became mine but doesn’t always need softness. The night’s vibe is diabolical, and it’s affecting me just right.
I grab Soren’s wrist to bring him in front of my chest, possessively wrapping my arms around his shoulders from behind. “Nice to meet ya, Novak, but we gotta go.” I turn us around and steer him down the alley between The Ambient Raven and Death Mark. “Did you forget about your family curse, sweetheart? Time you got a reminder.”
