Ranger chuckled. “Only you would think a bitch crying is background music.”
“Christmas music,” Dutch said as he took a bite of his sandwich. “There’s a difference.”
I groaned as I leaned back in my seat. “Well, I can’t fucking stand it. When the hell is she gonna run out of energy and pass out?”
As her wailing grew louder, I found my hands pulsing for the heat of her neck. I hated that noise. The noise of a woman aimlessly drowning herself in her own fucking snot. It reminded me of how badly my mother used to cry at night before I killed that useless son of a bitch she wanted me to call a father.
Asshole had it coming, too.
No one hits my mom and gets away with it.
Ranger stretched out, his hand patting his protruding gut. “Who’s turn is it to do the dishes?”
I stood quickly. “I’ll do it.”
Dutch picked up his bowl. “You did them last time.”
I snatched the bowl out of his hand. “And I’ll do them this time. Now, scram.”
As the guys made their way out of the kitchen and back upstairs, I tried to busy myself with washing the dishes. Well, rinsing them off, anyway. I scrubbed them down, feeling the bubbles of the soap popping against my sun-toasted skin. The sun started setting over the water, casting shades of purple and pink throughout the sky.
And still, that woman downstairs couldn’t put a fucking lid on it.
“Enough,” I growled as I slammed the last dish into the washer. “If she won’t shut up, I’ll make her shut up.”
She didn’t have a reason to cry, anyway! She’s the one that gave herself to us. If anything, she should’ve been thanking us that she wasn’t already dead. I kicked the dishwasher closed with my foot and started the cycle, listening as the water pipes all kicked into gear.
Then, I stormed into the basement, kicking the fucking door open with my foot.
“Jesus Christ, are you ever going to shut up!?” I bellowed as I emerged downstairs.
She scrambled to get behind the bed before she tucked that quivering lower lip of hers over her teeth.
Effectively shutting her up.
“See? Was that so hard?” I asked as I threw my arms out to either side.
Naomi wiped at her tears, and the motion of her arms alone drew my gaze back down her body. Christ, what I wouldn’t give to see those curves jiggling for me as I stuffed her full of my dick. I licked my lips as her breathing grew ragged. As if she were spent from a night of carnal pleasures. But, as my gaze kept traveling downward, I found the food tray I had brought down to her.
Untouched.
“Ranger won’t like that, you know,” I said as I motioned to her untouched tray.
She sniffled. “Not hungry.”
I walked over to the tray, and she yipped like a stray dog. She scurried out from behind the bed as I picked up the food, listening as she scampered over into the small L-shaped part of the basement that dumped itself into a decent-sized closet.
I pointed to the door. “Open it.”
She looked over at the doorknob. “Why?”
I flinched toward her quickly and she jumped before doing as I asked. Dear God, why the hell did women ask so many fucking questions all the damn time? They were asinine, and unnecessary, and as I watched her quickly open the door, she paused.
“There’s a table back here?” she asked.
I shrugged. “Where else were we going to put it? Go sit down.”
Shockingly, she did as I asked without hesitation. Maybe she was finally coming to her senses. While she rubbernecked around at the closet-kitchen-infusion Dutch insisted on having down there, I sat the tray of cold food in front of her.
