“Right.”
“And not on me,” he added.
“Mm-hmm,” she mumbled loudly.
She was totallygonnafocus onhim, just be quiet about it.
He kept his gaze to the floor.
Her voice broke the silence.
“You can’t tear him apart when you get to him, Mo.I’m notvisiting my man in the pokey and I hear conjugal visits are hard to arrange.”
His neck still bent, he turned his head her way.
“Lottie, shut up.”
“You got it,” she whispered.
He looked back to the floor.
Lottie went back to being Lottie.
She took off her makeup.Brushed out her hair.
Saw to business.
Including the business of giving him room to do what he hadto do.
Soon.
Fuck.
Soon.
Thank Christ.
Now all he had to do was stop himself from committing murderbetween now and getting her on her back in her bed.
With what he’d been through since meeting CharlotteMcAlister…
Piece of cake.
He’d been wrong.
It was not a piece of cake.
What he had not been wrong about was that this was theirguy.
Threat neutralized, Lottie was home, asleep, had no idea hewas not there, and Axl was sitting in her living room just in case she woke upand found out he was not there, Axl could tell her what was going down andshe’d continue to feel safe, not all of a sudden without a bodyguard.
Mo was in the guy’s house with Hawk and Smithie.
The man had been identified by Smithie and his bouncers asan irregular regular.He didn’t come often, but they’d all seen him, more thana few times.Too innocuous to be red flagged, they’d never have called it.
Until Mo had.
In his house, there was no sick-fuck shrine to Lottie.
