Page 2 of Need (Men of Inked Sinners #3)

OLIVER

Liam steps out of his truck, and his eyes go straight to the wreck a good thirty feet off the side of the highway where the cop is taking notes.

Her car’s a pile of shit, smashed against a bank of trees.

“Well, shit,” he mutters, running his hand back and forth over the top of his head. “This is gonna be a bitch.”

The temperature has risen throughout the day, and the sunshine that finally decided to make an appearance is doing a number on the snow covering the ground. My truck would get stuck in the mud before I’d make it halfway to its destination, but I figured Liam’s could do it without an issue.

“Should I call someone else?” I ask him as the cop walks our way with his fancy clipboard and my driver’s license that I’d given him when he first arrived.

“Nah, man. I got it. She’s lucky she wasn’t in it,” he says as he ticks his chin toward the back of the woman’s head while she waits in the cab of my truck.

“She was outside of it, but I got her out of the way.”

Liam’s eyes widen. “Are you crazy?”

I shrug. “Was I supposed to watch her die?”

“No, but damn, Oli. Ma would’ve lost her shit if you’d gone off and gotten yourself killed.”

My brother. He’s so poetic with his words.

“Sir, here’s your license back and hers,” the cop says, handing me everything, including her stuff. “If you could have her come down to the station on South Halstead to give a statement and drop off the dashcam footage before the end of the day, we’d appreciate it.”

“Will do,” I tell him, stashing our stuff in my side jacket pocket.

“Sir,” the cop says, tipping his head toward my brother.

“Officer,” Liam says through his teeth, hiding his sneer behind his unkempt beard.

Liam’s never been a fan of law enforcement, especially in the city. He spent way too much time with them as a teenager because he was always doing dumb shit and getting caught. Despite his best efforts, he didn’t have the smarts for a life of crime.

Liam’s eyes are trained on the cop as he walks back toward his cruiser. “I’m surprised they even bothered showing up. ”

“Hit-and-run always gets their blood pumping.”

“They do love to arrest people,” he says, and he’d know. I’ve never been arrested in my life, but my brother…he has a frequent customer card with the county jail.

“You got this?” I ask, glancing toward my truck and the pretty girl tucked inside.

“Yup,” he snaps. “You got her?”

I nod. “Always.”

“She hot?”

“Yeah. She’s way too pretty for you, man.”

“Bullshit,” he mutters. “No such thing.”

My brother is good-looking, and boy, oh boy, does he know it. But he has a knack for ruining sweet things like her. He sucks them in and quickly turns their world upside down, leaving them a bigger mess than her smashed-up car. I won’t let that happen with her. She’s too nice for that…too sweet.

“She’s mine, Liam.”

His eyebrows shoot up as he pulls his head back. “She’s what?”

“Off-limits to you, buddy,” I tell him as I step backward, making my way back to where she’s waiting.

“Yeah. Yeah,” he says, swiping his hand in the air to brush me off. “I got my hands full with Sharla anyway. Don’t need to add another to the roster.”

Sharla. She is something. Very pretty, but a little off her rocker.

Exactly the way Liam prefers his women. Stable and sane are not words to describe any of his long-term girlfriends.

He met Sharla at the Pink Flamingo as she shook her moneymaker on the stage in front of him and still does three nights a week.

“Catch ya later,” I call out as I get to my truck door, wanting to get inside the warm cabin because the wind is wicked today, and there’s a good-smelling pretty thing waiting for me too.

“Bye!” he yells back before I climb inside.

“Everything okay?” she asks, her big brown eyes still filled with so much worry.

“All good,” I tell her, fishing the shit the cop gave me out of my side pocket. “You gotta go down to the station today and make a statement.”

“I didn’t see anything,” she says as she grabs her license from my hand.

“Just tell them what you did see and what you know. The dashcam and my statement will fill in the rest.”

She tips her head back against the seat. “I can do that,” she says with a sigh. “I’ll have to get a ride.”

“We can go now if you want,” I offer, for no good reason.

I want to stick close to her, and I don’t know why. I’ve met plenty of pretty women before. Hell, I’ve spent way too many nights with them too, but there is something about this one and the state of shock she is in that have me wanting to stick around .

“I’m sure you have better things to do than hang out with me.”

“Not really,” I answer honestly. Sure, I could be working, but with the wind and cold, I’d do almost anything to get out of being outdoors right now.

And being around her isn’t a hardship. I can’t think of a better way to spend my day.

“I have to go down there too so they can get a copy of my dashcam video.”

“I canceled my meeting with my client already, so I’m free if you are.”

“Free as a bird,” I tell her, putting the truck in drive. “Buckle up.”

Without hesitating, she does as she’s told. I don’t know if she’s always this easy or if she’s still in shock over what happened.

“You need a ride home after the station?” I ask her, because why the hell not. I’ll do whatever to spend more time with her and not just because anything beats freezing my ass off in the cold.

“I can get a ride.”

“Darlin’, I have a truck and some time. You want a ride home after the station?”

“Sure,” she says, picking up her phone when the screen lights up. “But I hate to put you out.”

“You’re not putting me out. I offered.”

“Okay, but only if you let me buy you lunch.”

I glance her way, wondering if I heard her right. “Lunch?”

She gives me a smile that makes me warmer than the sun ever has on a summer day. “My family owns a place, and they make the best burgers in town.”

“I’m not one to ever turn down a good burger,” I say, but the woman could’ve offered me anything and I would’ve jumped at a chance to spend more time with her.

“The best. I said the best, not good.”

“So, you said client. What do you do for work?” I ask, making the question seem like small talk, but really, I’m gathering intel. I have an overwhelming need to know everything about her. I know the basics from her license, but besides the events of earlier, I don’t know much else.

“I’m an organizer.”

I’ve heard of some crazy-ass ideas to make money, but never in my life have I heard someone say they’re an organizer. “Like a maid?”

“No. I suck at cleaning,” she says, staring down at her phone screen again, tapping away at the glass. “I take what they have and make it accessible and easy to use. I declutter their life a bit and make sure everything has a proper place.”

“People pay you for that?” I ask, and it comes out harsh and judgmental. But obviously, I’m not rich enough to understand paying someone to move my shit around my place.

“Yeah, and they pay well.”

“Huh. Well, I’ll be damned,” I mutter. “You must be good. ”

“I’m the best in the city.”

“I wouldn’t say my place is organized, but I know where everything is when I need it.”

“Then you’re organized.”

“The garage isn’t, though, but that’s because my brother never puts anything back where it should go.”

“You want some help with that?” she asks, making me glance her way again.

“I don’t think I could afford you.” Her car had been cute but pricey, and her clothes aren’t giving me thrift-store vibes. The woman is classy and way out of my league, but that doesn’t stop me from going out of my way to spend more time with her.

“I’ll give you a helluva discount for saving my life and helping me get a new car.”

I forgot about that. I’ll have to beg Randall to give the girl the family discount and not screw her over like he usually does with his other customers.

“It’s a deal,” I tell her, but then it hits me.

Liam will be at the garage, and he’s the last person I want around her.

Sharla or no, the man loves women, especially pretty little things like her.

“I have some time week after next in the evening.”

Liam’s on vacation soon. He and Sharla are going to Vegas to party it up like they don’t do that every day here in the city. It’s just an excuse to drink and gamble nonstop without anyone thinking they’re lushes or degenerates. Vegas has a way of making everything that’s bad somehow look good .

“That’ll work.”

“Perfect,” she says, tapping away on the screen again, “What’s the garage’s name so I can put it in my phone?”

“Winston Brothers.”

“Got it,” she says as I ease onto Halstead near the station. “It should only take a few days.”

“You haven’t seen the garage.”

“You haven’t seen my skills.”

God, I like her attitude. Unlike after the accident when she was a jumble of emotions and a hot mess, when she talks about her work, she’s confident and self-assured.

“I’m Oliver, but my friends call me Oli.”

“I like that,” she says. “I’m Lulu, and sometimes people call me Lou.”

“Lou,” I whisper her name, and I like the way it sounds on my lips.

“Here we are,” I tell her as I stop in front of the station, taking a spot on the street to avoid paying the ridiculous prices to park in a city lot. “You still good with doing this now?”

“As good as I’ll ever be, but I don’t remember anything besides you on top of me.”

I remember it too, and I haven’t been able to think of much else on the entire ride to the station. There is something about this chick that sticks under my skin and has my mind wandering to all the possibilities that will never become reality .

“I don’t think they need to know about that,” I tell her, killing the engine of the truck.

Her eyes meet mine, and for a moment, I can’t breathe. “But you’re a hero,” she says with so much seriousness, it makes my chest squeeze a little bit.

“I don’t think anyone’s ever called me that before. I was just in the right place at the right time.”