“Oh, yeah, I bet that girl gives good head. Those lips . . .” Dex pursed his lips and shook his head. “She’s a fine piece of ass, I’ll give you that. Here,” he said.

I glared at him as I caught the can of beer he’d tossed me. Throwing it down on the table, I stalked over to him and grabbed hold of the scruff of his shirt, bringing his eyes level with mine as my knuckles pressed against his windpipe. He coughed, struggling to breathe.

“Don’t you ever talk about her like that around me, you fucking wanker,” I growled.

He put his arms up in surrender. “Fuck, jeez, settle down, bro. It was just a joke,” he wheezed, doubled over. I glared at him. Walk away before you do something stupid. I backed off, still angry.

Dex and I had history—mostly because his girlfriend had been in love with me for the past three years. He fucking hated the fact that she settled for him. Teegan was nice and all that, but I’d had no interest in having a girlfriend until Leeta came along.

“Look, I might call it a night. I’m pretty wrecked,” I muttered, rubbing my neck.

“Ahh don’t be such a pussy. Stay and have a drink. We never see you anymore,” Dex said, slapping a can of beer against my chest. I took the can and cracked it open. Maybe spending a few hours with the guys wasn’t the worst idea in the world.

#

It was after three in the morning when I stumbled inside. I wasn’t drunk—I’d only had the one beer and a couple of mouthfuls of bourbon—but after barely sleeping the night before I was fucked.

I had a missed call and two messages from Leet, but I knew better than to respond to them now. As sweet as she was, she could be a real bitch when I woke her up—even when it was accidental . . . which was often.

Walking into the kitchen, I grabbed a beer from the fridge and fired up the laptop. I didn’t have to work the next day, thank fucking Christ, because the guy who owned the garage I used ran a training workshop every second Wednesday. After taking today off, too, I was going to have to put in a long one Thursday in order to catch up.

Not that it bothered me.

I loved what I did, and when I was working on my bikes I felt like I was good for something. When I was a kid, Dad would throw old, run-down bikes my way, and I’d strip them down and rebuild them. Anna would sit there for hours, watching me.

Even with no formal qualifications, I knew everything there was to know.

Pictures of Anna filled my home screen on the laptop: Anna with me, Anna with Dad, one of all four of us smiling like fuckheads on the beach. Even Dad was grinning, beer in hand, which was a rarity for him.

My childhood had been dysfunctional, but we always knew Dad loved us. It wasn’t the usual kind of affection—there were no trips to our school productions, no Christmas or birthday celebrations—but in his own way, he made sure we knew how important we were. We were so close.

Up until Anna died.

I leaned back in my seat. I missed her so much. I was supposed to have protected her.

I’d found out she was dead when my brother woke me up after an all-night bender. I was passed out in bed when Cash came charging in, his eyes red. Right away, I knew something was wrong. My mind had gone to Dad first, because that was the logical explanation: another fight in prison, or maybe all the drinking had finally caught up with him.

But Anna? My sweet little sister? It was impossible.

I can’t think about her now. Thinking about her left me a mess. Anna had been the glue that held our family together. Without her, we were a mass of pieces, none quite fitting next to the other. Even Leet didn’t realize how much Anna’s suicide still affected me. Talking about it led to questions I couldn’t answer. Besides, talking was for pussies. I’d tough this shit out like my brother did. Like my father did.

I pushed her from my mind. I couldn’t think about her right then. If I did, I’d fall apart. It had been a year, and I still hadn’t gotten over it. I didn’t think I ever would.

My email whistled. I glanced at the icon. My blood ran cold. Holy fuck. After six weeks of nothing?

My hands shook as I opened my email. There it was.

A time. A date. A description.

Slim, brown eyes, blond hair. I mentally ran through my girls. Only one fit the description. Cassandra. Now I had to pray that she was available.

I’d been waiting for this. Six fucking weeks, and I’d finally have another chance.

I grabbed my phone and searched through my contacts until I found her. She was listed under electrician #3, just in case Leet saw it. I drummed my fingers on the table, waiting for her to answer.

“Hello?” She sounded tired.

“Cassandra. It’s Mace.” Then I remembered it was three in the morning. Shit. “Fuck, sorry it’s late,” I apologized, hitting my head against the wall beside me.

“It’s okay.” She yawned.

“Are you free Thursday night?”

“For you? I’m always free. Is this . . ?”

“Yes. The same as last time. I’ll pay extra again.” I paused. “Are you sure you’re okay with it? I mean, I know it’s kinda fucked up . . .”

“That was some pretty kinky shit, but believe me, you’re one of the nicer guys.” She chuckled, her voice raspy. “Besides, you tip well.” She let out a roaring laugh, so loud I had to hold the phone away from my ear. God, this chick smoked so much weed that although she was only in her twenties, she sounded more like fifty. At least she looked her age. That was all that mattered.

“Thanks, I guess.” I winced. “I’ll see you at seven.”

Chapter Six

Leeta

Little Marcus meowed wildly at my feet as I poured his biscuits into a bowl. It was official: I was in love with two boys. My tough, rough guy and my little, furry softy. I’ll let you figure out who is who.

“Here you go,” I said, placing the bowl on the floor. He began to purr, licking up mouthfuls of kibble like he’d never been fed before. I laughed. “Someone’s a greedy guts.” I stroked his fur and then stood up. I had so much work to do that day it wasn’t funny.

After the fastest shower in the world—twenty seconds—I put in a load of laundry and then settled down at my laptop. I turned it on and waited. Nothing happened. No way. I’d just charged the battery the day before. Sighing, I stood up and went in search of the charger, which I had a feeling was still in the bedroom.

Yep, there we are. I yanked it out of the wall and waltzed back into the living room. After plugging it in, I sat down. And…nothing.

What the hell is going on? Stupid fucking computer.

I slammed the laptop shut and pushed it away from me, frustrated.

Fuck!

I had an opening argument the next morning and I needed to get this finished. But now my piece-of-shit laptop had decided to be temperamental, and I had no idea what I was going to do.

I reached for my phone and called Mace. No answer. It was three o’clock; he was probably at work. I weighed up my options. The local library was closed of a Wednesday afternoon, so that was out. I could go into work and risk being stuck there half the night, but then I’d have to explain why I had called in sick today.

Somehow I didn’t think turning up for the last hour was going to look good to my bosses.

So I could sit here and panic . . . or I could go to Mace’s.

I stared at my keys, and in particular, the key to his house. Surely the fact that he had given me a key meant I could let myself in? Especially in an emergency. And it didn’t get much more urgent than this.

I grabbed my keys and my files and rushed out the door. I didn’t want to think too hard about what relationship lines I was about to cross. We had been dating for a while now, but we hadn’t really had the ‘what’s mine is yours’ talk. This felt creepy. Like I was invading his privacy. You’re about to hack into his computer, Leeta. It should feel creepy.