Page 26 of Fast and Dirty
“Have him come work for me.”
“And why would I do that to you?” He glances at me. “You run a good business, and he’s sure to do something to shit on it. I don’t hate you that much,” he quips, his eyes going back to the screen.
“I’ll make him my toilet-cleaning errand bitch, he won’t so much as touch a socket wrench,” I assure him, adjusting the bill of my ballcap. “You’re stuck in this cycle with him because he’s your brother and you have no choice but to care about him. But if you cut the cord, he’ll have no option but the one I offer him, and it will teach him some damn humility.”
I know a thing or two about this, as the one good thing my dad did was never handing anything over to me. Quite the opposite, actually. While I could sometimes be a little punk about it back in my youth, I appreciate reaping rewards from hard work now. Although I’m not sure it was dad or jail that instilled that in me.
“You trying to say I can’t handle my own brother, Dr. Phil?” he snarks, downing the second half of his drink.
“I’m saying you can barely handle your dick,” I jab with a grin, and he biffs the bill of my ballcap, knocking it off my head.
“Pick that up!” I point down at the floor,laughing.
“Pick it up yourself asshole,” he laughs.
“I know you like to see me bend over, but this is going to extremes,” I chuckle, pushing out of my seat to retrieve my hat. “And I’m just trying to help your ungrateful ass.”
“Fine, you’re right,” he sighs. “I appreciate it buddy. I got the next round,” he relents, turning back to the bar and signaling to Collin. “Can we get another one?”
As I stand and push my hair back on my head before replacing my hat, I see a large portion of the bar’s clientele is gathered by the dartboards.
“What’s going on over there?” I ask, sitting back down and picking up my beer so I can polish it off in time for the next one. “There a tournament tonight, and no one told me?”
The makes Hunt perk up a little and he raises his eyebrows to answer me. “No, some new chick in town is showing a few guys up at darts. Ryan’s over there somewhere to check out the fresh meat - his words, not mine.”
The mention of a new girl sends my thoughts skittering back to Kira, not that they had wandered far. I wonder how she’s doing over at Agnes’s. I haven’t heard from her in the past three days. My mind starts to drift, and to distract myself, I glance back over towards the dartboards, and the first thing I notice is a hot ass in jean shorts. My eyes pan upwards and take in the loose t-shirt that’s half-tucked in and a swinging black ponytail.
“Kira?” I narrow my eyes to focus. In my peripheral I see Hunt’s head turn in the direction of my gaze and back to me.
“What, you know her?”
I continue to stare, trying to register the change in her from her new attire to the lack of makeup on her face, to the way she grabs up her pint glass half full of beer. “I … rescued her,” I respond slowly, and I put a smirk on my face as my eyes dart back to him, hoping he doesn’t make a big deal.
“Rescued her,” he snorts into his glass.
“She broke down on the side of the road last Sunday,” I explain as he continues tochuckle at me, shaking his head, but I ignore him. “She kind of got stranded here, and she’s been staying with Agnes.” My eyes dart back to Kira, still trying to believe what I’m seeing. She looks … I don’t fucking know how to say it, but I like it. Apparently, so does my dick.
“Holy fuck, you hit that.”
Hunts declaration snaps me out of my stupor, and I brush him off, lean forward on the bar, grab my beer and pretend to be completely enthralled by the game. “You know, you say a whole lot when you keep your mouth shut,” he prods.
“Fuck off,” I huff, just as some commotion breaks out over at the end of the bar.
We both go on high alert as our heads do a synchronized swivel in that direction. I can’t quite see what’s going on behind the cluster of spectators, but my instincts kick in, knowing that’s where I last saw Kira.
I’m out of my seat and barreling towards the fray. I push between two other patrons just in time to see Kira throwing her beer on Ryan.
“What the hell is wrong with you, you fucking bitch?” He barks, his hand going to his shirt and pulling it away from his body.
Oh fuck no.
My tired brain doesn’t take even a second to assess the situation. Instead, it sends my body hurling in Ryan’s direction and getting in his face. “The fuck did you do?” I demand.
“Fuck off, Bradford,” he spits with narrowed eyes and a chin tilt. “Mind your own fucking business.”
“She is my business,” I snipe at him, not even realizing the words until they’re out of my mouth.
“She’s been a hustling tease all night,” he spews back just as I feel a gentle hand on my arm.
