I shrug a shoulder. “I’m kinky. If you’re lucky, I’ll use it on you.” It’s just some old rope I had in one of my bug out bags. I keep meaning to throw it in the boot of my car, but maybe it would be fun to use it on her once I’ve gained her trust. I drop her things on the bed. “The bathroom’s down the hall.” I close the door, giving her some privacy, then meet Dan in the kitchen, making coffee.
“So, what are we dealing with here?”
“I fucked up, okay?”
He rubs his hand over my short hair. “Nothing new there, baby brother.”
I yank my head back. “Cut it out. Someone’s after her. I should have stayed away, but I couldn’t get her out of my head. I had to see her again. And again. Now someone else has caught up with her, and here we are.”
“So are you two an item?”
“We will be. She just doesn’t know it yet.”
He pats my back, moving around me to open a cupboard door. “Always the optimist, Dom.”
I get the pan from under the oven and crack a couple of eggs into a bowl.
“You making her breakfast? It must be love.”
“There’s nothing wrong with taking care of your woman, dickhead. Maybe if you tried it, you might keep one.”
“You know it’s hard when you’re not even in the same fucking country half the time.”
“Yeah, yeah. Go put a shirt on or something.”
Dan wraps his arm around my neck, pulling me into a headlock. “You scared your woman will want me instead?” He chuckles.
“She doesn’t even like me much, so she ain’t gonna want an arrogant ass like you.” I push him off me. “Cut it out now, or I’m not making you any breakfast.”
“Sweet.”
Poppy stands in the kitchen in her work uniform, a little bit of makeup applied from her bag, I assume. “You’re making scrambled eggs?” She gawps between the two of us.
I take the few steps towards her, lift her chin to close her mouth and peck her nose. Something I’ve wanted to do for weeks. Call me soft, but she has the most adorable button nose I can’t help but kiss.
Dan pats my back. “I’m gonna take a shower, no fucking on my worktop.”
Poppy squeezes her eyebrows together. “His worktop? Is this not your place?”
“Nah, I just crash here when I’m in the city. My place is in the Lake District.” I’d love to take her to my place. Secluded with no people. I fucking hate people.
After cooking her eggs, I sit at the breakfast bar with her, watching her eat. “Tell me everything. I need to know who I’m dealing with.”
“I’ve taken care of myself this far. I’m a big girl.”
I nod to her chest. “I can see that, but I still want to look out for you.”
Her eyes roll. “I think it’s Malcolm. He was a premium player in the casino I worked at. He always wanted a private dance with me.”
I raise my brow. “You danced?”
“Yes.”
I clench my fist. “Did he touch you?” My stomach tightens like a knot, twisting and tugging, rearranging my insides.
“No, but he always requested my presence when he hosted private parties. He always carried a pack of matches to light his cigars.”
That explains why she had an anxiety attack outside the car last night when she saw the matchbook. Knowing he hasn’t had the pleasure of tasting my little fox brings me some relief, at least.
