“Positive.” I smirked at my wordplay, but she just rolled her eyes. “Bad phrasing aside, I just wanna make sure everything is good. And I don’t have the patience to wait for-fuckin’-ever.”

She studied me for a moment. “This about Mac?”

I didn’t bother to deny it and lifted my chin.

O was quiet again. “You’re a grown man. You don’t need me getting in your business, but I’m doing it anyway. Be careful with her.”

She was right. I didn’t need her in my business. And if she was anyone else, I’d have told her to fuck the hell off.

But her concern was genuine, and it wasn’t unwarranted. Mac had been through a shit-ton. She’d only just started letting go around me, and it wasn’t even much. A bigger smile. A real laugh.

Her cum dripping down my finger.

I’d been treading lightly, fighting my own feelings to focus on hers. But after she’d sought me out, all bets were off. I was taking it slow, but I was still taking it.

Taking her—and not just for sex.

Her personal advice delivered, Ophelia returned to nurse-mode. “One of the doctors who occasionally volunteers at the clinic with me runs one of those luxury concierge practices that does house calls to rich yuppies. Since they pay a shit-ton, his lab cranks out results faster than Starbucks brews coffee.” Her lips tipped. “Great, now I want coffee.” Almost immediately, she scowled. “Never mind. Anyway, I’ll reach out to see if he can squeeze you in.”

“Appreciate it.” With that settled, I headed for the kitchen to learn how to make hummus.

But I did it while googling whether it was safe for Mac to eat.

* * *

“Let’s talk about Beverly.”

I looked across the table to my prez. “Hills, Hills Cop, or Hills, 90210? ’Cause I know it’s sure as hell not a woman named Beverly. Otherwise, your wifey would slice your dick off with that knife Swedes used to thinly carve the chicken.”

Given the topics that filled our agenda, it was inappropriate, bordering on morbid, to make jokes during Mayhem meetings.

I did it anyway.

If I didn’t, all the ugly shit I saw would meld itself to my brain. My psyche. Before I knew it, it would coil around my throat like barbed wire and drag me down. We all needed something.

I joked.

Swedes cooked.

Glitch studied the ever-advancing and updating tech.

Lash, Haze, and Scythe probably had their own shit, though I had no clue what.

Judge obsessed over O.

And Jury… Who the fuck knew. Probably brooded in a corner until he felt better.

Judge’s glare cut to me, but there was no venom in it. “Beverly, Mass, you gaping Mass-hole.”

I gave him the finger as I glanced at the open app on my phone. “We don’t have any jobs in Beverly.”