Forrest shrugged and glanced down at the screen of the phone in his hand. "Clean-up crew has been in and out." He tucked the phone away.
I exhaled in relief. For the last hour or so, I'd worried someone would find Bob before they did. Whether his death could be traced back to us or not was a different story, but that risk made me anxious as hell.
The men? They didn't seem so concerned. I got the feeling they had this down to a fine art by now. They knew what to do, and how not to get caught.
"I'm going to go to the restroom," I said, placing my hands on the table and pushing the chair back so I could stand.
All three of them glanced around, before Forrest nodded. Not that I needed his permission, but whatever they were looking for, I might have missed. If they decided it was safe, then it was.
I hoped.
Leaving them to finish their beers, I headed to the back of the restaurant and into the corridor that led to the washrooms. The space was narrow. The walls and floor well-worn, if clean.
The washroom was just as small, leaving barely enough space to turn around. Fortunately, it was unoccupied.
I quickly did what I needed to do and washed my hands.
Stepping back out, I ran right into Woody's firm chest. He grabbed my arms and pulled me further down the corridor, before pressing me against the wall. I was so startled, I forgot to even let out a squeak of surprise.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he snarled.
"Drying my hands?" I suggested, shaking droplets off in the direction of his face.
He shook his head and bared his teeth.
"I'm not talking about that and you fucking know it."
"What are you talking about then?" I asked reasonably. At least it seemed reasonable to me.
"I'm talking about you coming with us tonight." He sounded like he was right at the end of his patience. A sentiment I could appreciate. He was pushing me right to the end of mine.
"Everyone needs to eat," I said, pretending I didn't understand what he was referring to.
"You know what I fucking mean," he growled in my ear.
His breath against my lobe made me shiver. If I wasn't already turned on by watching Leif kill Bob, I was by Woody's body pressed against me, holding me hard against the painted brick wall.
"I was there to do the same thing you were there to do," I said, trying to keep my voice even, when my knees wanted tobuckle under me. If he wasn't holding me up, I might have ended up a puddle on the floor.
"Why?" he demanded.
"For the same reason you want to do it, I suppose." I managed a small shrug. "Believe it or not, there are some assholes in the world." I raised my eyebrows at him.
"There's worse people out there than me," he agreed. He didn't look like he believed it either.
I smirked. "I don't know if I'd go that far." Was that his erection pressing against my side? "The bar is pretty low, I admit."
"There you go running that mouth off again," he said. He wound my hair around his fist. "I can think of better uses for that mouth."
"Can you now?" I asked, daring to look him right in the eyes.
The smile he gave me was feral. He reminded me of a wild animal, contemplating the best way to eat his prey.
"Yeah, I can," he whispered. "Your pretty little smart mouth would look good around my cock."
I shivered. My pulse raced, filling my body with white hot heat.
"You want to taste it, don't you?" he whispered. "You want me to fuck your mouth. Admit it." He tightened his grip on my hair.
