Page 146 of Property of Whiskey

She’s pretty in that way that makes you think sweetness right before you notice the expression saying she has already decided exactly how much bullshit she’s willing to tolerate.

Royal’s hand automatically settles over her rounded stomach.

Becki looks down at it.

Then at him. “You done?”

“Nope.”

“Thought so.”

I almost smile.

Royal catches it. “You laughing at me, Deputy?”

“Considering it.”

“Careful. I’m sensitive.”

Becki snorts. “Since when?”

“Since pregnancy.”

“You ain’t pregnant.”

“Emotionally, I am.”

Whiskey groans. “Why the fuck did we come here?”

“Because somebody tried breaking in,” I remind him.

The humor disappears from all three of them so fast it might as well have been shut off at a switch.

Royal straightens.

Becki’s hand closes around his wrist.

Whiskey’s attention goes toward the hallway.

“Where’s Kaylee?” I ask.

Royal studies me. “You interrogating?”

“I’m asking.”

“Same tone.”

Whiskey shifts closer but keeps his hands to himself. “She gets to see her.”

Royal’s brows lift. That gets everybody’s attention.

Including mine.

“She does?” Royal asks.

“Yeah.”

“Since when do deputies get access to girls we’re protecting in our clubhouse?”