Page 15 of Casual Felonies (Wildlings #1)

Omar, by the way, still hasn’t let go of my neck.

In trying to hide the fact that every cell in my body is freaking out, what with all the clear and present danger, I didn’t quite… What?

“What?” I ask, horrified at the tremble in my voice.

“Does. My. Nephew. Stink?”

Hughes looks amused, which…shit cubed, I am so fucked right now.

“Oh, uh…” My brain glitches, then releases. “ No . Not at all, Mr. Hughes.”

In fact, Rami smells delicious. Not like a particular fragrance, just a combination of his soap, skincare, and deodorant. And skin.

I decide to keep that detail to myself.

In the meantime, Anders and Hughes are beside themselves.

“Mr. Hughes?” Anders says, smacking his friend’s shoulder. “I’m gonna start calling you that.”

Hughes shakes his head. “Please don’t. That’s what Liam calls me in bed.” He turns to me. “You can call me Hopper.”

“Uh…okay.” I grimace. “And, to reiterate, I don’t think Rami smells. At all. ”

Anders muffles a laugh. “Oh, I see.”

Omar shifts beside me. “What do you see, love?”

Anders sends me a mocking gesture. “He thinks our son is hot, but he also has a will to live.” He folds forward again, feline as he picks up the thin listening device disc and rolls it across his fingers, like that trick you do with quarters. “Does my son return the sentiment?”

Focus, Valentine. The real issue is I don’t want these serial killers finding out that I fucked their son’s mouth like I owned it, then licked the cum off his belly like I owned that too.

Hopper gently knocks his head against mine. “Well?”

I clear my throat and unstick my tongue from the roof of my mouth as I scramble to find the words. Knowing they’ll smell a lie, I go for a half-truth.

“He, uh…made a pass at me.” I look around, making sure they see me. “But I told him to find a new barber.”

I don’t like what Anders’ face is doing. His expression is morphing between confusion and amusement, and neither bodes well if my goal is to remain unflayed.

“ You rejected Rami?”

There’s surprise in his tone, as though he’s never considered the possibility.

“I… It’s not that he’s undesirable. I just knew it’d be a bad idea. Nothing against Rami. At all.”

“So you do find him attractive,” Omar muses, removing his hand from the back of my neck.

I suck in a relieved breath. Then again, Hopper is still leaning on my shoulder.

“Of course. He’s a good-looking guy.” Spit finally returns to my mouth, and I swallow. “And his work with various charities is admirable.”

Sure, Rami’s a bit of a dumbass in real-world situations, but I’m not about to tell his fathers—and one terrifying uncle— that .

“But his spy work is woeful,” Hopper notes, his voice rough .

“Hey,” Anders says, throwing his friend the finger. “That’s my son you’re talking about.”

Hopper checks in with Omar. “I’m not wrong, am I?”

“No, Hop. You know what you’re talking about. People never know you’re there unless you want them to know you’re there.”

I turn to Hopper. “I promise I didn’t know you were here until you spoke.”

“Thank you. I appreciate that,” he says, patting my hair.

I swear to God, I’m going to shit my pants.

Omar clears his throat. “Coming back to the point, do you have other equipment in Everett’s shop?”

I stare at my boots and shake my head. I’ll sneak in tonight and remove it.

Omar’s hand goes back to my neck, and with the lightest pressure, he forces me to look up at him.

“Let me ask that in a different way. If I were to order another sweep of Everett’s shop this very second, how dead would you be?”

“I, uh.” Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit. “I’d be pretty dead,” I finally say, my muscles firing off, in a fight with my brain to pass out or run .

Anders’ look turns murderous—oh fuck —and I send up my hands. “I haven’t turned on the new equipment. I swear. You can check my laptop at home—I’ve got nothing on that feed.”

“Why should I believe you?” Omar asks, sinking his nails into the sensitive flesh of my neck.

“I—I. They fuck. Everett and Rafi. After hours. A lot, and not just a lot for old dudes. Like, Everett really, really likes how tiny Rafi is. I noped out when they started the Daddy play.”

Am I a dommy son of a bitch who enjoys calling my lovers “boy” from time to time? Sure. But I’m not super into the Daddy stuff. Though I definitely should’ve taken better care of Rami after our…encounter. Session ?

Stop thinking about kink, asshole.

Hopper snorts, burying his forehead in the meaty part of my arm. “Fucking hell.”

Omar’s jaw tenses. “I don’t need the play-by-play.”

“Sorry. Sorry ,” I repeat. “That’s why I didn’t want to talk about the equipment.”

Anders busts out laughing, and that sends Hopper even further over the edge, and now people are staring at us because those two are howling .

Omar sighs, and I wonder how much of his life is basically wrangling these two. He turns to me and puts his finger in my face. “Don’t let on that you know Rami is following you.” I can’t quite read his expression. “And don’t sleep with him.”

Er…

Hopper snorts. “Omar’s fucking with you. You can sleep with Rami.” His face shifts. “As long as it’s consensual.”

Omar glares at Hopper. “Why would I want my son with a man who admitted to bugging our friends?”

“Oh, come on,” Hopper says, rolling his eyes. “True was doing it for a good reason.”

Omar crosses his arms over his chest and Anders gives me a thumbs-up. I don’t even… What the fuck do I make of that? Also, am I really on a first-syllable basis with a serial killer?

I hold up my hands again. “I don’t have any plans to sleep with Rami. Promise.” Omar seems happy—or at least not dissatisfied—with my answer. “But…how long do you want me to let him spy on me?”

“Until he gets bored and ceases.”

“But what if I’m?—”

I cut myself off.

“What if you’re what ?” Anders asks, clearly enjoying my discomfort.

“What if he follows me into a sensitive situation? My side hustle can be dangerous. ”

“Then no side hustle until he stops.” Omar insists.

“Why?” I ask because I clearly have no fucking sense of self-preservation.

Anders has the answer. “We want to see if he’s got an aptitude for this work.”

I shake my head. “He doesn’t. I promise you, he doesn’t.”

Ah fuck. Three pairs of murderous eyes narrow at my head, like they’re trying to work out the most painful way to crack it open and scoop out my stupid, stupid brains.

“Hey, not cool,” says Hopper, mortally offended. “It was just his first attempt at stalking. He’ll get better.”

“Exactly,” Anders says, standing. “You’re just gonna need to baby bird him for a while.”

My mouth drops open. “Baby bird?”

“Yeah, like, chew it up and feed it to him until he can do it on his own.”

I… What? I look to Omar as the voice of reason, but he’s nodding along.

“Yes. Baby bird him for us, and we’ll forgive the bugging.”

Jesus, hell. Fuck my life.