Page 119 of Savagely Yours
“They’re kind of adorable,” she said.
Memphis’ eyes lit up. “Really? I ain’t never been called adorable. Crazy, yeah. I know I done heard ‘stalker’ a few times.”
“And Prisoner 340216,” Dallas tossed in.
“Oh, yeah. Forgot about that one.”
A third man, the driver, stepped out of the car. From the frustrated grunt and the hard slam of the door, something told me that the twins were regularly like this, and this man’s patience had been thin for quite some time. I didn’t know about “adorable,” as these were two adult men with clear psychological complexes, but there was something oddly trustworthy about them.
“Hey, you two, tone down some of the crazy,” the driver ordered. “That’s why people don’t want to join our camp after meeting you. I already told Wolfe that you shouldn’t be on the welcome committee.” He raised both hands to show that he was unarmed. “Hi, I’m Omar. Sorry about my friends here. They lack home training. You said you’re looking for Dr. Diaz?”
Larke nodded. “Yes, is she at this camp?”
“You mind opening up the back? Just a precaution.”
Dallas moved to where he could better see the cargo area.
Memphis didn’t budge an inch.
Larke unlatched her seatbelt. “Not at all. We have nothing to hide. Just let me?—”
“Mrs. Harding, do not step one foot outside of this vehicle,” I warned. “If anything happens to you, I’m going to hell, and I’m not going alone.”
Dallas clapped. “Naw, I like you. You might be our kind of crazy. What you think, Memph? You like him? I think the boss’ll like him.”
Memphis, eyes full of stars, didn’t respond.
Larke faced me, grinning with all the mischievousness that solidified just how much I loved this woman. “Dez, sweetie? My love, my honey bear, my sugar plum? Can you open up the back for the nice man? I love you.”
“Can I be your honey bear too, darlin’?” Memphis asked. “I’ll even take being your Sweet 'N Low possum.”
Dallas burst out laughing.
Larke gave me a “Please kill them later” look.
Unhinging my jaw, I stepped out of the van.
Neither one of the twins acted as if they expected me to pull a weapon, which told me they were as unstable as they looked. But I was used to instability. Hell, I was a brother to instability. If these two were to ever meet Giorgio Pozza, they would probably bow in worship.
I knocked on the van’s back door and kept one eye on Memphis. All he was missing was a barrage of cartoon hearts beating in the air around him. As much as I couldn’t blame the guy, he needed to cut that shit out.
“Are there actual women back here?” Omar asked.
I nodded. “Yep. I just want to make sure they’re not still asleep. The four of us came down together from our camp.”
“You mean, he was right?” Omar groaned. “Those twin psychos are not normal, I swear.”
Dallas, focus glued to the back of the van, shook his head. “Don’t listen to him. He loves us like stepsons.”
“I’m not old enough to be your father,” Omar argued.
“That’s why I saidstepsons. Our mama had a midlife crisis, so she started banging a younger fella. We were just teens, and our real daddy is a piece of shit, so you took us in and treated us like your own.”
I reached for the handle, taking note of how their accents seemed to morph and change. The southern accents were almosttoodistinctly southern, but I couldn’t pick up on the traces in between.
“I trust Gage has his reasons for keeping you two around,” Omar said.
“Gage?” I asked. Then, I recalled him saying something about someone named “Wolfe” earlier, but my mind didn’t have enough information to make the connection at the time. “Gage, as in Gage Wolfe? Tall guy, blond hair, Aussie? Former SpecOps?”
