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Maybe he’s fucking with me again?

But no. Man’s actually pulling his dick out.

All the times I’ve been in locker rooms with other men, I’ve never looked at another guy’s willy. This one’s big. Long. Kinda red and angry looking at the tip, which I guess fits.

Jesus Christ, it’s tattooed.

If you’d asked me this morning what I’d end up doing at the end of the day, staring down a dick that says “Bite Me” would have been dead last on the list. But again, I picture that tiny baby upstairs with her wide eyes and pursed lips.

My little girl.

I gave up my only shot at college so I could be here for her. Pretty much lost my best friend. When I reached for that gun, I was sure as shit willing to kill for her. I can do this, too.

Slowly, I step closer. People sometimes feel intimidated by my height. At six foot seven I’m looming over this guy now that he’s seated on the counter, but he looks the opposite of bothered. He’s smiling the way a person does when they know they’ve got something in the bag, and he’d be exactly right.

Nodding my head at the money, I ask, “No fucking around this time?”

“No fucking around. Get me off, the money’s yours. There’ll be plenty more of it where this came from. I’ll even hook you up with a place to crash while you and your kid get on your feet.”

Acid swirls in my stomach. My mouth is dry. Never mind that I’m dizzy as hell. But I’ve played through pain before.

If this guy’s legit, he’s offering me what I need to get by. That’s what matters.

“Okay.” I brace my hands on either side of his hips, staring at the weeping slit. The stack of hundreds tickles my fingertips, and I curl it into my palm to be sure he can’t back out.

The door creaks open. “Dean, are you in here—what the fuck are you doing?”

Mike’s voice hits me like a block of ice dropped into my chest. When I move to pull away, the man whose name I still don’t know grips the back of my hair hard enough to make my eyes water and my scalp burn. “Hang on there, buddy. You know him?”

My head bobs carefully, every move increasing the sting and ache. Out of the corner of my eye I can make out a hand on the doorknob. Dark brown fingers clenched tight, the fancy birthday watch he got from his parents decorating his wrist.

Even with his voice roughened by shock and anger, I didn’t need to look to know it’s Mike standing there. I’m always aware of him. My former best friend. My former roommate. Billie’s brother.

“Who the hell are you?” Mike demands.

The man shifts, and for a second I’m worried he wants to shake hello over my head while he’s about to make me suck his dick. “Name’s Brennan.”

Oh. At least now I know that much.

“Your buddy here’s applying for a job. Good money. Real good.” Brennan’s other hand moves. Sounds like he’s sliding the gun on the counter. Or picking it up. “Now, you want to put in an application as well, you’re free to stick around. Otherwise, get the fuck out before I shoot you.”

My shoulders tense, even more when seconds pass and Michael doesn’t move.

Brennan’s fingers tighten, tugging at the back of my hair some more. “You get to work,” he murmurs, almost right into my ear.

The electric charge that runs through me is confusing as hell. I try to turn and look over at Mike, but I can’t see much aside from the hard set of his jaw. The way his lips press together in an angry line. The same way he’s looked at me for months now. Since he and his family heard about Billie being pregnant.

If I thought there was any shred of friendship left between us, I’ve nuked it now. For a second I worry Mike will tell his parents. Threaten to have Ella taken away. But if I don’t do this, I won’t be able to keep her anyway. Doesn’t get more lose-lose than this situation here.

But why the hell isn’t Mike leaving?

“Offer won’t be on the table for much longer,” Brennan says.

Fuck.

At his reminder, I take a breath. I lower my head.

And I get to work.