“Thank you,” Ryan says with a wide grin. “Not everyone is as amenable as you’ve been today. We’ll keep our noses as clean as possible.”
“Now, don’t go making promises you can’t keep,” I warn. “No one in this room is clean. I just ask that you don’t flaunt it, yeah?”
“Yes, sir,” he says, sobering. Hayes comes closer from the dark corner where he’s been watching, and gives Ryan the wiring information. My lips twitch as I see that it’s going to Caelin,where he’ll undoubtedly ensure that it gets deposited in Omega’s Haven’s account.
Discretion and mind melding at its finest. I really don’t need the money.
Morgan stands, leaving his smoldering cigar in the ash tray. His phone is in his hand, and his gaze is apologetic as he gestures to it. The men around him nod and begin other conversations as he strides toward an exit. Standing slowly, as if I have all the time in the world, I drain the rest of my drink before returning it to the table.
I’ll have to return to enjoy the rest of my cigar, depending on how this goes.
“Welcome to Minneapolis,” I murmur to Ryan. “Please make sure whoever is running your bar makes an appointment to speak with me.”
“Yes, absolutely,” he says, taking the offered card from Hayes.
Holding my finger up to Hayes, I give Ryan a small smile. Picking up my coat, I pull it on as there’s a nip in the air even for the fall night air. My leather gloves go on as well. No use having my hands cramp while I’m beating the fuck out of someone.
“Then we’ll be in touch. Please excuse me.”
Walking slowly in the direction Morgan exited, I discreetly pull out my brass knuckles from my pocket. At this point in my career, I pay people to kick someone’s ass, but this is intensely personal for me. I’m not going to give up this opportunity to find a little vengeance.
According to Nancy, Morgan knew she was married and didn’t care. Whether or not he knew she was married tome,is beside the point. Never touch what another man has already claimed, despite the fact that it was a marriage of convenience. If I wanted to be in an open relationship, I’d never have gotten married to Nancy.
She was honestly more trouble than she was worth.
Pushing my way out the exit door, my head immediately moves in a swivel to see who is out here. A few men are standing around chatting, and they incline their heads respectively toward me. They shouldn’t be an issue.
Morgan stands a few feet away on the phone, angrily gesturing as he hisses at the person he’s speaking to. Hmm. That’s a shame. It doesn’t seem as if his night is going to get much better than this.
In fact, I detect a steep drop in his luck. Isn’t that a pity?
The brass knuckles fit perfectly once I slide them on, and I flex my hand to get used to the heavy weight.
My lips are pulled into an interested smile as I walk over to Morgan, gazing at him apologetically. I want him unbalanced. Maybe he’ll think I want to bum a smoke, or that I'm incapable of reading the room because it’s obvious that he’s busy. In this instance, the weight of surprise is on my side.
It’s when his annoyed gaze moves toward me that I give him the chance to say something that may interest me. It’ll determine my next move, as I’m working on instinct and anger.
“Fuck off, would ya? I’m on the?—”
My fist flies into his face before he can finish, and I kick his phone away from him when it drops to the ground. His hand moves to his face in surprise as it begins to bleed, and I raise my brow in challenge.
“Seriously?” he asks. Hmm, why are all the words emerging from his mouth boring me? It doesn’t matter how enticing his lips are framed by his thin mustache, all I want to do is knock his teeth out.
I hit him again, this time across the jaw, patiently waiting for his brain to catch up to what’s happening. I have lots of time, no one is waiting on me, and I fully plan to finish my cigar once I’m done here. My body is turned slightly to watch the men atmy back, and I see that they’re simply standing there gawking at us. I don’t mind an audience as long as they don’t plan on participating.
Morgan finally lunges at me and I duck around him, kicking his ass to push him forward. His arms windmill comically as he catches his balance before turning to glare at me.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he yells, whirling around to face me.
Shrugging as if I don’t understand what he means, I land several more punches along his face and chest, getting into the flow of fucking up all that smooth skin. The blood is flowing in a very pretty pattern, and is beginning to stain his crisp, white shirt.
It’s very easy to become blood drunk when your canvas is this gorgeous. It’s a shame that one of the first men I’m interested in is such an asshole.
There was another once, a male omega, that smelled like fudge. It was a decadent scent, and drew me in his direction like a moth to a flame. It’s too bad that the sound of bullets tore me away before I could find out his name.
See? I’m just not cut out for dalliances, much less a relationship.
“Move along,” Corbin drawls, stepping outside into the alley. “The man doesn’t need an audience. In case you need the reminder, speaking about things that don’t concern you while you’re out living your lives is an invitation for us to end it. Understood?”
