Malice is a nasty sonofabitch. Old-school Italian, too. Or at least his family was before emigrating from New York to Mayhem. I wouldn’t be surprised if their blood contained oil traces from the first olive plucked from Sicily’s original branch.
“Malice,” I growl in warning.
He gives me some serious side-eye, but he backs off, and I shift my attention to Jamie. I track her hurried steps as she comes toward the van. Her hair was a wild mess when she’d gone to the bathroom. It’s now in a neat ponytail. With her hoodie tossed over her arm, the gray T-shirt hugs her perfect B-cups. Black utility pants mold lean legs, and her stride is long and confident, like she owns the concrete beneath her feet.
None of this is helping my current erection situation.
“I’m sorry I took so long.” There’s not a hint of remorse in her husky voice.
Jester meets her halfway. He drops an arm around her shoulders, and she stiffens. I’d wager good money that I’m the only one who notices the slight clench of her jaw. Apparently, Jamie still hates being touched. “No worries, James. I was using the time to explain to Malice that even women have to take a dump once in a while.”
I clamp my lips together to keep from laughing and wonder how the fuck Jamie doesn’t break at Jester’s remark.
Goddamn, I’ve missed my friends.
But Jamie’s not the only one with defense mechanisms. Jester’s need to fill the trip home with his special brand of sarcastic humor is, in this case, his way of dealing with the raw emotion I see every time he looks at me.
“Yes, women use a bathroom for that reason. However, I was washing up and brushing my teeth.”
Jester folds himself to put his face real close to hers and inhales—loudly. “She smells all minty and fresh.”
“Took a shit. Washed a face. Same difference.” Malice jabs a finger at our vehicle. “Get in the fucking van.”
Jester gives her a playful jostle that has her bunching up her shoulders. “Forgive our large Italian friend. Think of him as an angry olive. Once he gets to know you, he’ll warm up to you. Promise.”
Jamie squirms out from beneath Jester’s arm and brushes by Malice with the grace of a queen. Malice cocks a brow and crosses his arms over his chest, watching her as she tosses her backpack into the van. “It’s fine. I’m not here to make friends. I’m here to see that Wraith gets home.”
“That so?” Malice’s tone is lethal.
“Yes, that’s so,” she tosses over her shoulder.
“You gonna cut and run again once we get to Mayhem?”
Jamie swings around and throws her hands in the air, a crack showing in her armor.Good. Each small fissure counts toward its destruction. “I didn’t run. I was arrested.”
Malice gets all up in her face. A normal person would back down, but Jamie holds her ground. “You tell yourself that, honey, but we know the truth.”
Jamie raises her chin and flares her nostrils, matching Malice’s formidable frown. “And what truth would that be?”
Malice backs away a step and gives her a one-shoulder shrug. His smirk is pure nasty. “I ain’t gonna spell it out and make it easy for you.”
My hard-on dies a tragic death as I watch them. I’d intervene, but Malice won’t hurt her. Shred her with words, absolutely. From what I’ve seen from her, Jamie can hold her own. And if she’s going to survive in Mayhem, it starts here, with Malice. But if it gets too ugly, I’ll call him off for damn sure. Although, the vicious side of me is curious to see how far she can be pushed.
“How convenient.” She props her hands on her hips, and Malice’s expression goes dangerously dark. “You think you have me all figured out after knowing me for what, ten hours? Wow. I’m impressed. Even psychologists took longer than that to psychoanalyze me.”
Malice’s grin is slow and evil. “You got balls.”
“Big brass ones.” Jamie crooks her finger at him. Malice leans toward her. She rises on her tiptoes and cups her mouth, but her voice is anything but a whisper. “If you listen real hard, you can hear them bang together when I walk.”
Ever the referee, Jester steps between them. His laughter echoes across the parking lot, drawing a few glances our way. “Holy shit, what happened to the quiet girl who followed Wraith around for an entire year?”
Jamie lowers off her tiptoes and turns to Jester and says deadass, “She had to kill her father. That tends to rush a person into adulthood.”
“Oh damn, yeah, I can see how it would do that,” Jester agrees.
I push off the van and clamp my hand around her wrist. “You’re staying with me when we get to Mayhem.”
Her brows shoot up. “Am I?”
