“Baby, someone’sknocking on your door.”
She jumped up,grabbing her phone, and swiping the screen. “Oh my god. Stewart? What thefuck?”
“Tell me.”
She glanced atme, then back at her phone. “Mrs. Eaton’s son. He usually visits over the holidays,but Mrs. Eaton has been having some health issues, so she said he was coming—oh,god. He’s jacking…” She covered her mouth with her hand. “I’m going to besick.”
“Call the cops,”I ordered, pulling open the door.
Stewart was inhis thirties, maybe, with a receding hairline and a bad case of adult acne, andhe was standing in the hallway, his micro peen in his hand, and he was, infact, jacking off in front of Daisy’s door.
I didn’thesitate. Just tackled him to the floor, shoving my knee in his back, and Iknocked him hard enough to render him unconscious.
Daisy
IDIDN’T CALL the cops. I called my father,entering the code for the alarm to stop the incessant beeping as I scrolleddown to his number.
“What the fuck,Ducky? Who is that on the cameras?” Dad demanded, his voice gruff since he’dobviously been woken up.
I bit my lip andforced back the bile. “Stewart. Mrs. Eaton’s son.”
“Fuck, okay.Flea’s closest, so he’s on his way. I’m coming as well. You still got thosecable ties I bought you?”
“Um, yes.” Iheaded into the kitchen. “I think so.”
“They’re on thesecond shelf in your pantry.”
“Right,” I said,diverting my steps, and heading into my pantry. “Found them.”
“Baby girl, haveHuck secure this asshole, okay?”
“Yes.”
“We’ll be theresoon.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
I hung up, thenrushed into the hallway and handed Huck the zip ties.
“Did you callthe cops?” he asked, securing Stewart who was groaning under the weight ofHuck’s body.
“Uh, no, wedon’t do cops.”
He scowled.“What do you mean, you ‘don’t do cops?’ This pervert was—”
“Don’t growl atme, Huck,” I hissed as I heard the faint ding of the elevator down the hall.“You don’t understand our world.”
Frowning, heslid his phone out of his back pocket and swiped the screen. “If you’re notgonna do it, then I will.”
“Put yourgoddammed phone away, man,” Flea ordered.
Huck dropped hishead, and I could tell he was warring about whether he was going to actuallyput his phone away or fight Flea.
I was relievedhe chose the former, as the latter would likely result in damaging the face I’dgrown quite fond of. As Sergeant at Arms for the club, Flea didn’t fight tofight, he fought to win.
“What’s goingon?” Louisa asked, peeking through her slightly open door. “Oh my god, is thatStew?”
Luckily, therewere only three condos on our floor, and Mrs. Thatcher was older and wore hearingaids.
