“His name is Terry,” she said, shoving the bag across the table. “Terry Parsons.”
My mind now occupied with something other than my scalding cock, I glanced inside the bag to make sure everything was there.
“My friend recommended you,” she continued, picking at her left sleeve. “She didn’t say how much?—”
“You don’t pay,” I said, glancing back up.
Her brows caved. “But?—”
“You gave me everything I need,” I continued. “Do you have somewhere safe to stay?”
“I was staying with my sister, but he found me.” She picked at her lip. “I’m going to stay with her best friend’s cousin. He shouldn’t know the connection.”
I nodded and stood. “You should be able to move back into your home by the end of the week.”
Her shoulders slumped deeper with an exhale, before she quickly scrambled to her feet to follow me.
“Please stay and get something to eat,” I said. “The tab is paid for. You’d be doing me a favor.”
She paused, stuck halfway between sitting and rising. I needed her to stay long enough that we weren’t seen exiting together.
I shot her a smile. “I wasn’t kidding about the toast.”
She sat back down.
Good.
Time to go inspect my dick for third-degree burns?—
“You’re not going to hurt him, are you?” she asked.
I paused before answering. “No.”
I left, weaving through the restaurant, searching for golden doe eyes and a brilliant smile. She didn’t look my way, engrossed in something her friend was saying.
For the best.
I had three rules: no names, no faces, one night only.
Those rules existed for a reason. I didn’t date for areason. I definitely didn’t date women likeher,whose joy radiated like white gold sunlight. I would break someone like her?—
“Calder Throe.”
The moment I stepped outside the restaurant, my name was said—as a statement, not a question. I turned to find a man leaning against a winter-dead cherry blossom tree.
He was tall, maybe an inch or two taller than me. Golden-blond hair, tan skin, green eyes, and tattoos snaking up his neck, with a few under his eyes. I recognized the undercurrent of power, the kind where you don’t need to hide that you’re a criminal, because you either own everyone who cares or have the power to kill them.
Just like I recognized the tattoo on his hand.
The same I’d been forced to get almost ten years ago.
He glanced down at my pants. “Did you piss yourself?”
I fucking wish. At least then I’d still have a cock.
I slid my phone into the breast pocket of my suit. “Can I help you?”
“You probably know me by the name Butcher.”
