Joker sighs. “Denied, Skipper. We’re not simply tying them up again. It’s not a long-term solution.”
Bird scrambles off the bed, holding the shirt in front of himself. “Woah, there will be no more tying up of anyone, unless it’s in kinky fun. I thought that I had experienced everything. But what do I expect when I become part of two outlaw packs?”
Phantom and I growl at the same time, before glancing at each other.
“They are not your pack.” I gesture at Phantom at the same time as he gestures at me.
He doesn’t need a voice for me to know that he is saying the same thing as I am.
Offended, I cross my arms. “You’d be lucky to have me in your pack.”
Phantom arches his eyebrow:you’d be lucky to have me.
Normally, I would agree.
Phantom is striking, powerful, and a killer who both protects Omegas and allows his Beta to backtalk him.
He is one of the few Alphas I wouldn’t mind having in my pack.
When he holds my gaze intently, pink creeps up my neck.
If I don’t leave now, then I may find it impossible.
“I have a mission,” I find myself explaining. “And revenge. Important shit.”
Anguished, Joker snatches hold of Phantom’s hand. “Can we tell them, Skipper?”
Phantom shakes his head.
“Please?” Joker glances at me. “She’s not bluffing about leaving. But youarebluffing about not caring. I know that you’re just as obsessed as I am with them both. And we won’t be able to protect them if they go. Can we tell them the truth? Trust them?”
“Tell us and you’ll find out.” I meet Phantom’s intense gaze. “Why should we stay?”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Hunter Cabin, Blue Valley Woods
“This is Baby Five.” Joker cradles the heavy Remington shotgun like it truly is his kid.
Then he pats it tenderly, before placing it down on the scarred oak kitchen table, where he has laid out his frankly impressive weapon collection this evening to show me.
Is this his method of courting?
It’s working.
Yet it was the secrets that he shared with me in desperation this morning that made me stay.
Did I make the right decision?
Joker places the Remington down next to his other ranks of guns, knives, and grenades.
“Is it your favorite?” I ask.
“She,” Joker corrects. Before bending down and stage whispering, “don’t worry, she’ll grow to love you too, baby. I’m not replacing you.”
I snort with laughter. “What about this one?”
Joker’s shoulder brushes against mine, as we stand side by side in the middle of the sparse timber kitchen, whose walls are blackened by woodsmoke.
