And… I’m not mad about it.
I think.
Chapter Fourteen
Nero
Taylor is in the shower and I’m still sitting on the bed, dressed and staring into the open drawer by her bed, at the box of condoms.
How is it possible I’m jealous of a fucking box? Because I want to know every single asshole she has used them with. Tear the fucking hands of each man who has touched her before me.
I want to take the box and throw it in a fucking fire. Which is insane because if she hadn’t had them, we wouldn’t have fucked.
I’ve learned my lesson when it comes to being safe. As much as I would never regret Oscar, I don’t want to be one of those men who has kids with different women. Like my father. Although I’m screwed in that regard, if I ever want more, because it definitely won’t be with Sheridan.
Fuck what am I even thinking about. I grab my cut and boots and head downstairs. I don’t need to be in the room when she comes back out of the shower because I’m likely to bend her over the bed and fuck her again. I don’t have time for that.
I’m not going to bother lying to myself, it will happen again. I don’t know for how long, or when I’m going to have to move on, but I want her.
It worries me that she knows about Oscar. Women have got attached to me and tried to screw me over. If she tried to hurt me through him I’d have to handle it.
That thought makes me feel like fucking shit. My phone vibrates in my pocket and I grab it, checking the stairs for Taylor.
“Yeah?”
“It’s more than this one guy,” Blaze says. “And we might have a problem.
“Meaning.”
“They’re a gang. Not in the traditional sense, they’re fucking college kids, from rich neighborhoods.”
“They’re doing this for fun?” I grit out, my mind racing. “What’s the bigger problem?”
“His dad is a district court judge.”
“Shit…”
“It’s up to you. Stryker has never had a problem with high-profile targets.”
“He put his fucking hands on her.”
Blaze is silent, he would never ask, but I did slip up. No one knows about Taylor. I don’t have to explain the things I do or ask my men to do, they follow orders no matter what. But this is different. It is a problem. They need to know why I’m doing it if we take a district judges son off the map. And I intend to. He is not only getting a beat down.
The fucker is a dead man walking.
“You know who the rest of them are?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay, well, they need to be fucking stopped but we can’t let them know it’s us. Not if we’re dealing with this prick.”
“Understood. I’ll go talk to Stryker.”
“I want to be there, for him.”
It goes without saying so he doesn’t respond to that. “Anything else, Prez.”
“No.”
