“Good,” she answers aggressively. “I don’t want to put another white boy in the ground.”
That catches my attention, but I can’t tell from the look on her face if she’s joking or not. She definitely isn’t smiling.
“If you killed someone, you would be in prison.”
“Is that how it works?” Damara says mysteriously.
I laugh. No woman with pink hair could actually be a killer. She does enough to spur my uncertainty.
“Listen, short stuff. You’re not gonna have any reason to kill me. I’m taking you to my place in Santa Fe until I figure out what happened.”
“We had sex. What is there to figure out?”
“Your smart mouth won’t get you anywhere with me.”
“Whatever. And don’t call me short stuff. I am five-foot-five, thank you very much.”
My phone powers up.Finally.Holy shit, it’s late. Two in the afternoon? What time did we go to sleep? My stomach lurches. I can’t remember the last time I’ve slept past noon. The occasional night of debauchery never killed a man, but waking up this late makes me feel like my ass is getting old.
Damara glances at the screen and mutters, “Fuck,” under her breath. Yeah, same here short stuff.
I have fifteen text messages from my property manager – which is never a good thing. I also have four missed calls from Hunter. Two missed calls from Ryder Sinclair. And…
“Where’s your phone?” I snap at Damara, suddenly suspicious that she hasn’t placed any calls trying to escape.
“If I had it, I would have called Tamiya to get me out of here to get plan B the second I woke up.”
“What is your problem?”
This woman lacks appreciation entirely for the fact that I’m trying to help both of us sort this shit out. My head pounds and I need more alcohol.Now.
“I’m not happy about this situation either,” she says.
There are even more text messages and missed calls, but only one that I need to prioritize – the call from Wyatt Shaw.
“I’m calling Wyatt.”
“Call Tamiya right after to pick me up,” she says. “And don’t tell her that I let one of you crazy white boys get all up in my business.”
I don’t know what the hell she means by that, but there isn’t a fucking chance I’m calling Tamiya to do anything except give her specific commands to stay away from me until I’m done with her pink-haired sister.
“Just be quiet,” I respond to Damara gruffly. “We’ll both search for your phone once I’m done with Wyatt.”
The boss shocks me by picking up after two rings.
“Where thefuckare you?” he growls.
“The clubhouse. Where the fuck is everybody?”
“This is a fucking mess,” Wyatt growls at me. “Fuck…”
I can’t blame him for his frustration. I feel just about the same with how much my head hurts and that nothing makes sense. Damara fixes her pink hair and then folds her arms as she stares at me with an expression so pointed that it’s almost accusatory.
I soaked this woman’s pussy in my cum and most likely kept her safe from the inevitable debauchery that follows our club, and the only way she sees fit to repay me is to accuse me of the unthinkable while simultaneously expecting me to solve ourmain problems. What the fuck happened last night and who the fuck drugged us?
“What happened?”
“You’re at the club house,” Wyatt says. “Which means you saw everything.”
