Page 91 of Pack of Crooks

Show me that pretty smile.

I pinch my eyes shut. Fuck. What if she hates that I asked for a picture?

Ding. The tinny notification pulls my attention and I stare at my screen, a grin cutting across my face. Hazel is in what appears to be her bathroom and she’s smirking at the mirror. Her blonde hair still holds some of the curl she had earlier in the day, but they’re starting to loosen, leaving her with a beachy, sun-kissed surfer girl vibe.

What are you doing?

Lottie and I are binge watching the Real Omega Mates of Atlanta.

Bravo has the best shows.

Hazel starts to type, deletes whatever she had put, then sends a different message.

You watch Bravo?

I love the ROM. It’s soothing.

LOL.

Wait. You watch the show?

Trash TV is my favorite pastime. I haven’t seen Atlanta though. Just New York and Beverly Hills.

COME OVER. RIGHT NOW.

I’m up and out of the bed not even a second later, shoving my feet into my boots, deciding the joggers and black T-shirt are good enough. Hazel was wearing her loungewear. I don’t want my presence to make her and Lottie feel like they can’t be themselves.

On the way to her apartment, I pick up the four most popular dishes from my favorite Vietnamese and Thai restaurants along with four pints of custard. I probably should have asked if they were even hungry, but you can’t call binge watching successful if you don’t stuff your face while the drama unfolds. I let myself into her building, but right before I go up the stairs, a grimy looking guy comes out of his apartment, eyeing me.

“Who are you?” he demands.

I lift an eyebrow. “Does it matter?”

He nods. “This is my building. Now I’ll ask you again. Who are you?”

So this is the asshole evicting my omega. “A friend of one of your tenants.” I hold up the food. “We’re having dinner and it’s getting cold.”

Glaring at me, he nods. “Guests aren’t allowed after midnight. Don’t make me kick you out.”

I fight a bark of laughter. Who does this guy think he is? I’d have him on the ground in a second. Stupid fucker. To his face, I simply nod before heading up the stairs. In my head, I plot a million different ways to murder him, but realize I probably shouldn’t. I dodge dripping water, grip tightening on the bags of food, and cast a scowl in the landlord’s direction.

What a piece of shit.

As if sensing my presence, Hazel opens her door before I can knock, a grin playing at the edges of her mouth. “Well hello there, kitty. You look so pretty.”

I narrow my eyes. “Careful, sunshine. I might have to spank you for that nickname.”

“I’m counting on it,” she whispers. She lets me inside, taking in the food with wide eyes. “Wow. You brought dinner.”

“Hope you’re hungry.”

“We were just getting ready to order something, but Lottie couldn’t make up her mind.” Hazel glances at her sister who rolls her eyes.

“Hey, Maddox,” Lottie says, eyeing the food. “You brought ice cream?”

I tsk. “No, I brought custard.”

Getting off the couch, she wanders closer. “What’s the difference?”