On occasion, he helped our clients disappear from their monsters. Or helped us find the monsters and drag them into the light. He also loaned out his men when we needed backup.

In return, we helped him with whatever his case called for. Information. Added muscle and manpower. Transport.

Sniveling minion retrieval.

I lounged back against the wall, ignoring the fucker’s insults as I thought about dinner. Pizza, probably. I hadn’t been home since Monday, so whatever food I had in my fridge likely resembled a science experiment gone bad.

Or blue cheese gone good.

Either way, I didn’t wanna eat that shit. Since I had to swing by the clubhouse to retrieve Dumpster from O’s care, I’d raid that fridge first. Nothing went better with greasy pizza than toasted waffles.

Or Swedes’s leftover fried chicken.

Fuck, Nox better hurry up, or I’m gonna start getting hangry.

Maybe I can convince Mac to come over for pizza.

I’d taken off early Monday to work the job as a favor to Nox. I’d known it could take a while till I figured out which rat was the king rat. I just hadn’t known it’d take all damn week. Even though I hadn’t given her a heads-up I’d be gone, Mac hadn’t texted.

Not that I’d expected her to.

I’d never in my damn life met someone so stubbornly independent.

Swear to Christ, it’d been like pulling teeth just to get her to come to the cookout.

Was I that fuckin’ boring? That hideous to look at? That much of a cocky dickhead to be around?

Fuck. My ego couldn’t take it.

Especially ’cause I sure as shit didn’t think any of that about her. She was smart and funny and honest. And since I had eyes that worked and a brain in my head, I was also aware she was hot. Her being pregnant didn’t change a damn thing about that.

I hadn’t expected it, but I’d had fun with her at my cookout. I liked the way she treated me—like a person and not a criminal, emotionless playboy, or piece of biker meat.

That shit got old, and it did it fast.

I could be me, she could be her. No obligations, manipulations, or exhausting games.

Yeah, I’m swinging by her place to check in—whether she wants me to or not.

I was about to text Nox to see where the fuck he was when a heavy door slammed shut in the distance. Footsteps grew louder as they grew closer.

The dickwad in the chair looked close to the pissing-shitting-puking part of the evening.

Nox and one of his boys came into the room. Matt stopped just inside the door, taking his station as a stony sentry. Nox continued toward me, ignoring his prey in the chair.