Page 78 of Dangerous Men

Less than two minutes of digging, and I have Sydney's address. It takes me another minute to fully comprehend what that address means.

You’d never guess from the front that her little bookshop has two duplexes hidden on the second floor. The building owner did a good job concealing the back with privacy bushes and trees.

A shame they didn’t think about the height of the windows when they planted those trees. Didn’t think about how the branches would offer a perfect, uninterrupted view straight into her bedroom.

Really, such a shame.

I’m not exactly comfortable, sitting on a thick branch with my back against the tree trunk. But I’ve put up with worse. The pain is almost comforting.

I glance at my watch. Barely 10 PM. Her bedroom light is on, but the room is empty for now.

My breath catches when she appears.

Her hair is wet from the shower, and she’s wearing a comically large T-shirt, long enough to cover everything but so threadbare the fabric is almost transparent.

I’m suddenly aware of how hard I am. Vicky in nothing but her thigh highs had barely given me a reaction, but this?

I reach down to adjust myself.

Sydney towel dries her hair, plumping her curls, her movements practiced and unhurried. She disappears briefly to put the towel away, and when she returns, she has a book tucked under her arm and a glass of wine in her hand.

The bedroom light turns off, and a moment later, the soft glow of the lamp at her bedside flickers to life. Sydney crawls onto her bed, propping pillows up against the headboard. She settles down against them and opens her book, her legs tucked up next to her as she starts to read.

I… I simply watch her.

It’s uneventful. Mundane. But not boring, not to me. I watch her gasp as she reads. Then giggle, the noise so soft Ican’t hear it. I can only imagine it, bright and joyous, like music. More than once, she closes the book and squeals, her feet kicking out against the covers like she can’t stop herself. Uninhibited, private enjoyment.

I feel calm watching her. And after a while, I let myself smile.

28

ASHTON

It’spast midnight by the time I hear the roar of Sebastian’s motorcycle tearing up the driveway of our compound.

Finally.

There’s an art to making protein smoothies that don’t taste like compost mixed with human waste. An art I’m still perfecting. I love my sweets, and I love food, but sometimes you need to feed your body the right fuel to keep it running properly. I’ve just finished prepping all the leafy greens and measuring out just the right amounts of everything when the front door opens and Sebastian walks in.

“Hey, Doc!” I have to shout over the sound of the blender. Not that it matters. Sebastian doesn’t answer. He just drops his helmet and laptop bag at the door and hangs up his jacket without so much as ahey brother, how’s it hanging?

Rolling my eyes, I pour my smoothie into a fresh glass and rinse out the blender in the sink, leaving it for the cleaning staff. Not even sparing a glance in my direction, Sebastian walks to the fridge and opens it, grabbing himself a bottle of water.

I slide into one of the dining chairs, setting my smoothie down on the table in front of me. Our compound has a formal dining room—a massive one with a table big enough to seat at least twenty—but we’ve always eaten in the kitchen. The little wooden table set up here seats us all comfortably enough, and most of the time we eat on our own, anyway. Especially lately.

“I figured you’d come home right after the shop closed,” I muse, looking at the clock. The second hand moves slowly around the face, inching the time closer to twelve thirty. “Where have you been all night?”

Sebastian pauses, the bottle of water almost at his lips.

“Francesca’s,” he says finally.

Ooooh. I grin. Good for him. About damn time he found someone to spend some time with.

“Well. Hope you had fun.” I chuckle.

Sebastian doesn’t answer.

“So…” My leg bounces under the table, and I rub my hands together, eager for any bit of news. “What’s the report? How’s our girl doing?”