Page 70 of Killer Confections

Now, it’s time to go find some fucking hicks.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Atlas

Nothing. A whole lot of fucking nothing.

Rowan and I’s meeting about the South syndicate was last week. We followed a fucking ghost trail all over Ohio and ended up with less evidence than what we started with.

We know they’re here, lurking around and waiting for the right moment. The whole compound is on guard, locking the kids down after school, and no one is traveling alone until these fuckers are dead in a ditch somewhere.

Thalia called with an update on her hit. She’s too anxious about what’s going on back home to enjoy luring Calaway into some fake temptress trap, so she’s settling to kill him tomorrow night after their gala, collect her check, and come home. Having her extra hands around for patrolling duty would be nice. She’s a great fucking sniper and I need to put her skills to use. The least amount of interaction we have with this syndicate, the better.

I’m exhausted as it is, but I don’t want to sleep in my shitty, cold bed. The quality of sleep I get next to Loxley is insane. I never imagined that sleep could be restful. I’ve had insomnia since I was ten. Mostly because of the fear of my old man breaking into my deadbolted bedroom and smothering me with my own pillow, but it never went away. Even after I killed him, I still couldn’t sleep for the life of me.

But next to Loxley? I might as well be fucking dead.

Which is why I’m practically stumbling into Sweet Haven during the afternoon slump in customers. I’ve justrelieved Dom of his watchdog duties so he could go get some sleep and now I’m patiently waiting my turn as I walk up to the counter.

This has become my new routine. Anytime Loxley is working, I’ll sit in the dining area until she’s done. Then I find some entertaining way to get her alone. I could break in through her window while she’s in the shower (that one was a fun role play that ended with her riding my tongue until she was gushing all over my face), or I may catch her in the alleyway a few blocks down and get her heart pumping before forcing her to her knees on the uneven concrete and stuffing her pretty mouth full of my cock until she’s choking and sobbing for me.

It’s always something new and exciting and my greedy girl is perfect. She doesn’t back down from a challenge and she’s put all of her trust in my hands. She knows I would never hurt her and our connection has grown so strong it’s like we never lost time.

The annoying sounds of gum smacking reaches my ears and I attempt to not grind my teeth at the teenager behind the counter. Blair is what nightmares are made of with her mannerlessI don’t give a fuckpersonality and all black attire. She reminds me a lot of myself when I was her age, which is why I haven’t slashed her tires for the way she speaks to me.

She pops her gum, looking up at me with a quirked, pierced brow. “Back to stare at my boss?”

“Hello to you too, Blair,” I ignore her comment, but my eyes follow a head of red-blonde hair past the kitchen door windows.

“You know,” the teen drawls, flicking her thumb across her phone screen. “I thought about calling the cops on you the other day. You’re a weirdo.”

My brows knit as I keep searching for my girl. “And you’re a child with no grasp of what love is.”

“I’m eighteen.”

“And? You’re only proving my point. A child.”

“Pervert,” she retorts as she lifts her phone screen to me, showing that she has nine-one-one typed up on her keypad.

My eyes narrow on her. “You wouldn’t.”

She gives a loud, obnoxious smack. “Try me, old man.”

I’m not even thirty yet.

“How many times do I have to tell you?” I point a finger at her and she cocks her hip, looking unimpressed. “Loxley and I aretogether. We share a bed, kid. Something you know nothing about.”

“I haven’t been a virgin since I was sixteen.”

I slap my hands on the counter. “Where the fuck are your parents? Huh? I just want to talk to them.”

She shrugs, lowering her phone before resting her elbows on the counter. “Dad’s too busy buying scratch offs and mommy dearest is somewhere in Kansas living in a trap house. Checkmate.”

Well, fuck me sideways.

“Jesus Christ, kid,” I mutter, shaking my head. I sigh before mimicking her pose and holding my fist out to her. “Club Parent Hater is looking fuller every year.”

She bumps her fist against mine, a small chuckle falling from her. “Yours were bad too?”