Page 6 of Dirty Beasts: Chance

“Please Jesus,” I say, heading for the industrial coffeemaker and pouring myself a mug—there’s a whole coffee station on one wall: a rack fixed to the wall with white diner-style mugs hanging on hooks, a small glass-fronted mini-fridge beneath it with cartons of half-and-half and gallons of regular milk as well as creamers in a variety of flavors, as well as a black plastic three-section container with packets of sugar, Sugar in the Raw, and Splenda. I fix my coffee with enough hazelnut creamer to turn it nearly white and take a seat on the bench near Chance… “near” being relative, as I’ve put at least two feet between us. I hook my cane on the edge of the table and take a sip.

Chance leans over and peers into my mug. “Little bit of coffee with your creamer, huh?”

I glare at him. “Sorry, does my coffee preference not meet your approval?”

He backs away, snickering. “Just teasing, woman. Shit.”

I gesture at Rev with my mug. “Tease him. Bet he likes it.”

Rev just stares at me, his gaze dark, expression blank. “No.”

I blink and turn away. “Okay then. I take that back. Don’t tease him.”

Chance laughs. “I’ve known him since I was ten. I know better.”

“Chance is a pathological teaser,” Rev says. “He nearly got busted down a rank for teasing our X-O. The big dumb fuck just can’t help himself.”

“I did not almost get busted down a rank, you tool.” Chance sips, shrugging, his mug hiding a grin. “I just got KP for, like, a fuckin’ month.”

I watch them bicker, and drink my coffee, and wait for the questions to start. Eventually, it becomes clear none are forthcoming, which leaves me off-balance.

“Well,” Myka says, getting up to rinse her mug out. “My landlord found someone to take over my lease, so I’m gonna go start packing my clothing.”

“Would you care for some assistance?” Anjalee asks. “I am not doing anything else today.”

Myka’s smile is friendly and welcoming. “Sure. Mom always says many hands make light work.”

Rev slugs back his coffee. “I’ll find us a storage place for your furniture.”

The three brothers all rise from their table, set their mugs in the sink, and wander into the gym, together as one, without a word of communication—Metallica starts up, loudly, and within minutes I hear the distinctive clink of weights being moved.

Lash sets his mug in the sink, and then pauses beside me. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Annika Scott.”

“You too, Lash.”

He vanishes into one of the rooms, closes the door. Leaving me alone with Chance.

He gets up, refills his mug. Sits closer to me than he was before he got up, close enough his knee nudges my thigh. “So, Annika Scott.”

I sigh. “Here we go.”

He lifts an eyebrow. “Here we go, what?”

“You helped me out with the situation with Alvin. Albeit, I didn’t ask for or need your help, but still, there it is. Now, I assume, we’re going to discuss what I owe you.”

He stares hard at me for a very long time. “Jesus. That’s where your brain goes?”

I stare back. “Am I wrong?”

He nods, sips coffee with a loud slurp. “Yes.”

“You handled Alvin like he was nothing,” I say, rather than addressing his answer. “You should’ve dropped him off the side, though. Would’ve saved yourself trouble. He may be small, he may be dumb, and he may be a sick, twisted pain in the ass, but what he’snotis forgiving. He’s a seriously vengeful little fucker, and you made yourself a very bad enemy.”

Chance cackles. “Ain’t scared of a little shit like him.”

“It’s not him you should be scared of, it’s the guys he’ll hire to murder you. Or, injure you to the point that they can drag you to him so he can do the honor himself.”

Chance laughs again. “Also not a worry.”