Page 152 of Ly to Me

“Wanna learn, sweetheart?” I asked my wife, who had a look on her face that wasn’t to be toyed with. That look was the same one she gave my truck before destroying it. I coaxed her to me with a finger, and as she settled between my legs, Grant struck up conversation with Sophia. I wasn’t sure what about, nor did I really care. “Apologies, Mrs. Roland. Do you already know how to shoot?”

“Sophia taught me a few things,” she said pointedly.

Lyra tried to act like she was involved in Grant and Sophia’s conversation, glaring at them over her shoulder. I cleared my throat, pulling her back to me. “Your possessive nature is cute, but only when it’s directed at me.” For good measure, I grabbedher wrist and placed it over my semi-hard cock. “Let your friend be.”

“How can you be turned on right now after how many times we—great. You just got harder.”

I chuckled. “If you didn’t hear, you’re about to be holding something deadly and made of metal. That’s like begging to be fucked.”

“Shots?” Sophia asked, walking by us and into the kitchen. Lyra dropped her hand from my crotch, which her friend hadn’t noticed because of the metaphorical hearts shooting from her eyes toward Grant as he leaned against the couch.

“Don’t give me that look,” Lyra muttered. “I won’t get wasted like the last time.”

“I’m not givin’ you a look.”

She leaned into my ear. “Liar.”

“What Icangive you is—”

“Take this shot with me and quit fuckin’ your husband on the table.” Sophia’s hand came within two inches of my face. I ground my teeth together, almost regretting my decision to invite her friend here and keep Lyra busy so she wouldn’t miss me later.

Lyra knocked the shot back and set the empty glass on the table, the scent of tequila filtering through her lips as she leaned into me a little more. And now I was really regretting having to go anywhere that wasn't our bedroom, where I could put my wife's mouth to good use.

Grant reached for his gun case, yanked the bottle from the counter and took a few long sips, then tipped his head toward the porch, keeping his full attention on Sophia. “Come on, darlin’. I wanna see you shoot.”

A bead of sweat broke over Grant’s forehead as he checked Sophia’s third can on the fenceline—another dead-center hit.

Checking Lyra’s can, I shook my head at her from across the field.

“This girl might kill me,” Grant muttered as we walked back to the girls.

“Makes me feel better about leaving them here alone.”

“Shit, might have better luck with Sophia in tow than me.” Grant rubbed the back of his neck.

“The three of us can handle him just fine.”

My phone vibrated in my pocket with quite a few notifications, all messages from Leo. As I played one of the videos, Grant cocked his head, stopping in the middle of the field. “It’s Jamie, ain’t it? What’d he do now?”

I pocketed my phone, having seen what I needed to. “He’s deserved it for years.”

“Not as bad as he does now, though?”

My fingers tapped along the can. Lowering my voice, I said, “He decided to touch what wasn’t his.” My wife wouldn’t want the name calling or the threat to be disclosed to anyone else. Touching would be enough to get Grant on board. Shit, I was sure he’d be willing to do it with no motive.

“When can we head out?”

The girls' laughter covered my words as I said, “Tonight, when he thinks he’s safe in his bed.”

45

Carver

The Hunt

Many cans later, Lyra finally hit the edge of one. I assured her, just like The Sanctuary and her horse, she could come out and practice whenever she pleased, although she’d have towarn me so I could make sure no one drove anywhere near where she was.

As night came, Grant and I slowed down on the drinking, letting the girls have their fun. Lyra’s skepticism peaked when I brought out the rolling tray and kissed her forehead, but when I told her Grant and I were going hunting for a bit, her tipsy shoulders raised and fell with ease. Soon enough, they’d be asleep with the boxes of pizza and Chinese food they insisted they needed spread out on the floor between them.