I nipped his lip back. “And you’re mine.”
After hurriedly finding food and flashlights for the vacant house’s occupants and dropping them off there with a vague excuse of us needing to leave again, Ezra gave me directions he read from a text message. Apparently, during his walk today, he had contacted friends via phone who he had known had lived here at one point, after he had run by their old living quarters downtown and seen they were no longer there.
His friends were obviously more cautious — smarter — than Lynn Johnson, telling by the scenery we were passing. Wherever they now lived, it was in the boonies. There was nothing out here except for sand, cacti, tumbleweeds, and a crescent moon that dimly lit our way. Finally, another half-hour later, Ezra pointed to a road I probably would have missed, the only thing even showcasing it even was a road were two tiny red reflective plastic circles stabbed down into the earth on either side of the ‘driveway’, maybe an inch from the ground.
Turning down the long road — still no house in sight — I carefully asked, “Anything I should know about these people?”
“Nothing like you’re thinking,” Ezra murmured, dialing a few numbers on his cell. “They’re good people even if a bit,” he placed the cell to his ear, “flamboyant.” His eyes met mine briefly before turning back to the road. “And don’t be surprised if you see drugs being used.”
Then he stopped talking to me as the person he was calling answered. “Judge! It’s Ezra. How are you, man?” He paused, chuckling softly. “Yes, Jury told you right. I’m going to be using your mad skills to get married tonight.” A pause. “No, I’m not crazy.” Another pause. “No, I don’t need a bachelor party.”
I bristled, glancing at him, my grip tightening on the wheel.
Ezra’s lips twitched, catching whatever expression I wore. “Judge, she’s hearing everything I’m saying, and I’d rather not piss her off and have a runaway bride on my hands.” A longer pause, then Ezra turned a little on his seat toward the window, whispering, “Seriously, Judge. Don’t even think about it. If you’ve really planned something, get them the fuck out—” He stopped talking…because I slammed on the brakes and jerked the phone from his hand.
“Judge?” I asked into the receiver, damn near on the verge of violence.
Ezra was bright enough not to grab the phone back. He sat quiet. Really, he didn’t move…or breathe. God love an intelligent man.
A chuckle echoed over the line. “You must be the soon-to-be Mrs Ezra Zeller.”
“Actually, I’m Queen fucking Ruckler,” I let a bit of my growl enter my tone, “and soon-to-be wife of King fucking Zeller, but since that’s a bit of a mouthful, and you’ve apparently already taken the names Judge and Jury, I’ll go with your festive streak and let you call me…Executioner.” Oh, the irony. I growled low, my eyes flashing into the night. “And you’re going to get a front row seat to just what the Executioner does if I see one damn naked woman when we get there.” I paused. “Are you feeling me, Judge?”
There was an extended pause over the line, then booming laughter. “Oh, fuck. That’s perfect.” More laughter as he mumbled, “I’m feeling you. No naked women will be in…sight. Now, can I talk to my man?”
My wolf growled. “My man.”
A gurgled chuckle. “Alright, can I talk to the apparently newly crowned King Zeller?”
I turned my glare on Ezra, holding out the phone to him. “I’ll kill him if he’s lying.”
Ezra studiously nodded, carefully taking his phone back. He leaned over just as slowly, kissing my cheek. “Calm down, sweetheart, because even if they can’t get rid of all the strippers, you’re the only woman I’ll be looking at.”
I blinked. All of them? He said it like it was a freaking shitload, not the one — or two — I had been visualizing. But, of course, who could see Ezra Zeller having only one or two strippers at his bachelor party? Naive, I was currently being, and I wasn’t about to voice it.
Jerkily, I put the SUV back into gear and continued down the road. A soft growl permanently vibrated in my chest and possessive anger oozed from my very being, even as Ezra ran his hand up and down my leg in repetitive soothing motions.
Holding the phone up to his ear, Ezra stated severely, “You pissed her off, Judge.” There was a lengthy pause. “Yes to all questions, and I suggest you do as she said unless you want your head ripped off,” yes, it would be, “because she wasn’t kidding. We’re almost there, I can see the house ahead,” uh, I couldn’t, “so I need to try to fix your damn mistake.” He snapped his phone shut.
Instantly he leaned over, nuzzling at my neck and purring, “Sweetheart, you know—”