Page 33 of Wild Card (Foster Bro Code #2)

“A tip. It looks great, man.”

“Well, you make a great canvas.” Fox took the twenties from me. “You ever get single again, give me a call.”

Get single again…

I walked out of the tattoo shop in a daze. Holy shit, I really wasn’t single. I had a boyfriend. One who wore a badge. How was this my fucking life?

I went next door to the pool hall and texted my brothers to join me for a drink. Gray was eager to see my ink, and Bailey was always ready to shoot some pool. Only Holden brushed me off, saying he had some things to do around the house.

I called bullshit. That man was up to something. What exactly a touch-averse workaholic got up to without leaving home was a mystery. Was he calling psychic hotlines? Working a second job as a telemarketer? Watching a shit ton of porn?

I stepped up to the bar and ordered a beer.

“Haven’t seen you round here as much lately,” Leo said.

“Guess not. You miss me?”

He snorted. “I miss your money, but not your trouble.”

I tossed a fiver on the bar and picked up my beer bottle to salute him. “Well, I’m behaving today.”

“You better be.”

Gray and Bailey arrived a few minutes later, and I peeled up my shirt to display my new ink. My skin was still red and puffy, but they’d seen enough tattoos to recognize how amazing it would look once it healed up.

“Beautiful work,” Gray said. “Did Angel kick your ass for cheating on her with another artist?”

“Nah,” I said, trying not to think about the actual cheating I could have done with Fox. “She knows this was a one-off. Angel’s my girl.”

Bailey spotted an easy mark to hustle in a pool game.

Our little brother was not as sweet as he looked sometimes.

That innocent face of his took in a lot of foolish men who expected him to be clueless, though.

I just hoped it didn’t result in any conflicts tonight, because it would hurt like hell to get into a fight with fresh ink.

Gray and I shot the shit over beers for a while, and just as I was crossing to the bar to get a second round, a familiar voice sounded in my ear.

“You miss me yet?”

I turned, spotting Dalton in full uniform. “Hey, I thought you were off today?”

“Change of plans, courtesy of my asshole sheriff.” He slung an arm around me. “Just wanted to pop in to let you know I can’t come by tonight.”

I hissed as his arm rubbed over my side. He stepped away, forehead creasing. “What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”

I raised my shirt so he could see. “Got a new tat. Just a little tender.”

“Shit, sorry.” He leaned in closer, examining it. “Is that…a hand of poker?”

“Yep. Pretty cool, right? I’ve been wanting it for a while.”

“Yeah.” He stared at it until I dropped my shirt, then shifted his gaze to my eyes. “I’m almost afraid to ask, but…”

“What?”

“You’re not still running those illegal gambling nights, right?”

“Well, actually?—”

“No, don’t tell me,” he said quickly. “Just know that I really don’t want to ever have to arrest you again, Ax. But I also have to do my job.”

“Yeah, I know you do. You always do the right thing.”

He frowned. “No, but I try.”

“And I don’t?”

He shook his head. “I’m not saying that. I’m saying…” He stepped in close, lowering his voice. “It would be very difficult for me to do the right thing if it hurt you.” He licked his lips. “I don’t ever want to choose between you and the job.”

“You’d choose the job,” I said. “I know that.”

“Would I?” His smile was sardonic. “I don’t know. You’ve got me spinning.”

“I’m spinning too, you know,” I said, waving a hand toward the door. “I just passed up a free BJ from a hot tattoo artist.”

His face went tight, and his brows drew together beneath the fringe of dark hair falling over his forehead. “Angel?”

“Fox.”

His fist clenched at his side. The man looked about to blow. I grabbed his arm, keeping him close. “Didn’t you hear me? I didn’t do it. Because of you.”

He exhaled, eyes meeting mine. “Yeah?”

“You’re the only one. Isn’t that what you wanted to hear last night? Well, fuck, it’s true, man. Okay? You’re the only one.”

Dalton grasped my jaw and pressed a hard kiss to my lips. Right in the middle of the dang bar. There was a sharp whistle, a catcall and laughter, and one shout of get a goddamned room.

“Sorry,” Dalton murmured. “Hope you’re okay with PDA.”

I snorted. “Do you even know me?”

“Right. You fuck in bathrooms.” His gaze flicked to the corner.

“Want to give that another go?” I asked invitingly.

His shoulders slumped. “Wish I could. I’m still on duty. Shouldn’t be here, but I saw your car out front and couldn’t resist seeing you.”

“You’re crazy about me,” I said.

“Yeah. Stark raving mad.” He chuckled. “But hey, you must be a little bonkers too, if you’re passing up Fox. ”

“I know, right? Gingers are hot.”

He swatted my ass. “Behave while I’m gone, Ax.”

“I’m not the behaving kind.”

“Well, do your best, at least.” He pressed a quick kiss to my forehead, tugged a lock of my hair, and strode out of the bar.

I stood there, like an idiot, staring after him.

Then my gaze shifted to Gray and his shit-eating grin. I rolled my eyes and headed back toward the bar. I was going to need a shot of tequila to put up with him now.