“Let’s roll.”
But we don’t move out fast enough. One of the whores prances over and I don’t even bother looking her in the eyes.
“Hey, Skull.”
I tip my chin without giving her the time of day.
“Who’s your friend here?” she purrs.
“That’s—”
“I’m taken,” Slider says quickly.
I cut him side-eye.
“Well, if you change your mind…” She trails a long purple fingernail over her partially exposed nipple. “I’ll be ready and waiting.”
“Taken?” I laugh when she’s out of earshot. “Since when?”
“Since never,” Slider grunts. “I want a nice quiet virgin.”
I snort beer out of my nose. “All right then. I’ll be sure to point one your way if I come across one, but that ain’t likely to happen here.”
Five minutes later we’re loaded up. Slider’s in the passenger seat of my truck, and a few of his guys and my guys are on bikes.
“It’s not far,” I mutter, turning onto the main road.
He checks his gun before sliding it back into his holster. “So, what are we collecting?”
“Maybe some teeth,” I reply as I mash the gas pedal. The sooner this is done, the sooner I can get back to my woman.
Chapter Eighteen
It’s organized chaos in the kitchen, and these ladies are definitely not old. There’s Cardi B blaring from the speakers one minute and some Yungblud the next.
I only know this because Beatrice and Jessica have informed me I’m lame for not knowing both singers.
“Take those cookies out, please.” A tall strawberry-blonde with her T-shirt tied in a knot below her boobs tosses me a pair of oven mitts. “They should be done.”
The smell of chocolate hits me when I open the door. “Whoa these look good.”
“Secret recipe. Don’t eat too many or you’ll be fucking looped for a month.”
Carefully, I pull them out, giving her what I know is a puzzled look.
“Oh, lord. Honey, you really are green,” another woman says as she steals one of the cookies, burning her fingers.
After I place the tray on a trivet on the counter, I put my hands on my hips. “Okay, I’m green, I guess. Someone needs to explain. I’m kinda drinking from a firehose around here. Humor me.”
“Pot,” the blonde says laughing. “I made those with pot butter.”
“Oh!” I grin, laughing. “I’ve never tried that.”
The woman who stole one breaks off a bit of her cookie and holds it out to me. I’m already holding up my hands. “Not today! I’ve already had my brain scrambled. But next time.”
She grins. “Skull packing heat? That kind of brain scramble?”
Oh my god. My face burns hotter than the oven.
