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“I know what stitches are, asshole. Who did them?”

I hesitate.

Big mistake.

Beck’s eyes sharpen. “Who did them?”

“A woman.”

A really hot one that gave me a hell of a blow job.

Then I pounded her into the mattress, not caring that I was destroying my body.

Worth it, though.

The silence stretches.

I put the bandage back in place, pressing the edge so it sticks to my skin. A pained hiss escapes before I can stop it.

Beside me, Beck turns his whole body toward me. “A woman?”

“Yes.”

“What woman?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

His gaze drops to my shirt. Then trails over my wrinkled pants and down to my untied boots.

His mouth starts twitching. “Did you fuck the woman who stitched you?”

“Drive the fucking truck.”

He bursts out laughing. “I need to hear this story.”

“No, you don’t.” I clench my teeth. “Can we leave?”

“Why? You afraid the woman who sewed you will chase you down and sew your balls to your leg?”

“Shut up, motherfucker.”

Honestly, I hadn’t considered that.

Callie wouldn’t do that... right?

Beck doesn’t give up. “What happened tonight?”

“I got stabbed.”

“How?”

I shrug. “Unexpected witness.”

His brows shoot up. “There was a witness?”

“Yeah.”

“What happened to him?”