Page 86 of Trailer Park Princess

Bored as fuck.

And I'm in a weird mood after everything that just happened. Maybe it's whiplash from sucking Kade's cock after he walked away the first time and then getting tugged by a leash to some kind of mobster bullshit.

Maybe it's Maybelline.

"I asked you a question." His fingers find the chain, give it a sharp tug that forces me to lean toward him. "You're allowed to answer."

"Nope," I mutter. "Not bored."

"Liar." But there's amusement in his voice now, like my discomfort entertains him. "You've been shifting around for the past ten minutes. Can't get comfortable?"

I press my lips together, refusing to give him the satisfaction of complaining. My legs are starting to cramp up, but I'll sit here until I turn to stone before I admit it bothers me.

Kade's laugh is low and dark. "Stubborn as ever. Some things never change."

Everything changed, I want to scream.You changed. I changed. Everything about this entire situation is fucking insane.

But the words stay locked behind my teeth.

I hear footsteps in the hallway outside and get freshly irritated with myself for hoping Tank is going to walk through that door.

Jinx straightens slightly on the couch, his hand moving to something under the cushion. A gun, probably. The casual way he does it—like reaching for a TV remote instead of a weapon—is yet another reminder of what he is now.

The door swings open, and a man I don't recognize steps through. He's built like a bouncer, as heavily muscled as he is tattooed, with a shaved head that gleams under the fluorescent lights. I can smell the cigarettes and gods know what else bleeding through his sweat. His eyes sweep the room, landing on Kade with immediate deference before sliding to me.

His gaze lingers. Traces down my body with interest that makes my skin crawl. I see the moment he registers the collar, the chain, the way I'm positioned at Kade's feet like some kind of fucked up trophy.

I look away, focusing on a stain on the concrete that might be oil or blood or both.

"Boss." The man's voice is pure gravel. "We got a problem."

"There'salwaysa problem, Marco." Kade doesn't move, doesn't shift his attention from whatever he's reading on his phone. The dismissive gesture is clearly intentional. A power play showing this Marco guy exactly where he ranks. Especially after he made Kade wait. "What is it this time?"

"It's about the shipment from the docks. The one we were expecting Thursday."

Now Kade looks up, and I see the shift in his expression. Business mode, Cyrus would call it. The calculating mind that's kept them alive and profitable in a world that eats people like us for breakfast.

People like we used to be, I correct myself.

"What about it?"

Marco's eyes flick to me again, uncertainty crossing his face. Like he's not sure if he should talk freely with me here.

"She's fine," Kade says, catching the look. His hand drops to my head, fingers threading through my hair in a gesture that's both possessive and oddly gentle. "Speak."

The casual way he gives me permission to exist in his presence while simultaneously petting me like a fucking cat—or a dog, considering I'm on a leash—makes fury spike through my numbness.

But I swallow it down. Stay quiet. Stay still.

"Right." Marco clears his throat. "So our supplier's been skimming. Taking product off the top, selling it to the Southside crew for markup."

Kade's fingers tighten in my hair, just enough to make my scalp sting. It's nothing Jinx didn't tell him, but I can tell he's testing Marco. Making sure the story doesn't change. "How much?"

"About twenty percent of each shipment. Been going on for three months, maybe more."

The math is simple enough even for my distracted brain. Twenty percent over three months adds up to serious money in this kind of shady ass business.

"Names," Kade says, the temperature in the room seeming to drop a few degrees along with his voice.