Page 21

“Thanks for getting back to me so quickly, Dom. We can talk outside.”

I watched her go, even though my instincts prickled. Baby Doll made it this far because she played hardball when she needed to. That included keeping her fair share of secrets. I would have felt better about the whole ordeal if the cop had been going bald with a gut that suggested he spent most of his time behind a desk with a box of doughnuts.

Instead, he was an attractive bastard. Firm, square jawline. Golden brown wavy hair. A perfectly fitted uniform that practically melted onto every sculpted muscle of his body.

Was she actually fucking a cop?

God, she better not be. Baby Doll was smarter than that.

After several minutes dragged by, the door opened again.

“Thank you for your time, Dom,” she said, stepping into the clubhouse. “I appreciate it.”

Before I could ask what the hell that was about, Zayn “Spike” Gendry waltzed in. Naked as the day he was born. With a bunny on each arm. He tongue-kissed one of them and gestured to a nearby table.

“Make yourselves at home, ladies. I’ll get you coffee in a minute.”

Baby Doll shot him an annoyed look.

“Do you have something against wearing pants?”

Spike gestured at himself—six-foot-four, ripped abs, chiseled features, thick cock on full display. I hated that my gaze involuntarily snagged on the gleam of his Prince Albert piercing. Of course the bastard had jewelry to pretty up his goddamn dick.

It was no surprise that he’d worked gigs unavailable to the rest of us ugly fuckers. Underwear model, porn star, Chippendale dancer. Even though he was just shy of forty by now, he was still in disgustingly good shape.

“Nothing to be ashamed of,” he protested. “Freeballing gets the air circulating. You should try it. We wouldn’t complain if you decided to go tits-out. In fact, we would be very supportive.”

“Spike,” I said with a sigh. “Don’t piss her off when your nuts are exposed like that. She’ll kick them into your throat.”

“No, no, let the man make his own decisions,” Big G said. “I want to see how this plays out. Wish I had some popcorn.”

Baby Doll batted her lashes at Spike.

“You’d love to get a look under my shirt, wouldn’t you, Spike?”

Big G huffed a laugh, shaking his head.

“You’re in danger, brother.”

Spike sidled forward, reaching for the hem of Baby Doll’s black tank top.

“You’ve already seen mine. It’s only fair you show me yours. I promise to treat the girls right.”

She stood dangerously still as he lifted her shirt by one teasing inch. Then she tipped my coffee over, spilling hot liquid across the bar, splashing over the edge.

Spike leaped back, shielding his crotch.

“Shit!Fuck!That’s hot!”

“Oops,” Baby Doll said with faux innocence.

I gazed in dismay at the remains of my coffee, sprawled across the bar. This is what I get for staying at the clubhouseinstead of going home, where I could enjoy my coffee in peace without all these theatrics.

Spike examined his dick, then glanced at Baby Doll with a sullen expression.

“Doesn’t look like you did any damage. Which is a fucking miracle.”

“Are you sure?” she cooed, saccharin-sweet and dripping with sarcasm. “Maybe I should take a closer look. Just to double check.”