They were in the middle of a motherfucking heat wave and he was cranky as hell. The smell of tobacco wasn’t making things better.
“Tranquilo, Russian,” Carlos said with a chuckle, throwing the smoke through the window. “Take it easy. You don’t have that problem back home, right?” Nico thought he was talking about the heat, but Carlos pointed at Vivian. “Asses the size of aircraft carriers, I mean. Don’t get me wrong, amigo, Russia is probably as fucked-up a place as any and I’m in no hurry to freeze my balls off, but your women, perfect porcelain dolls. All primed up always.”
Nico didn’t bother answering. “This is a waste of time,” he muttered.
“We could always have a little chat with Vivian. Work her a bit. Find out if the bitch knows something. And this is a nice neighborhood; they might have expensive stuff. Besides, I like the sound that comes from fat flab. It’s like punching a jelly ball.”
And this was why he preferred to work alone.
Nico looked at the man, whose eyes were already shimmering with sick excitement. Jeez, that was the worst kind of thug: dumb and bloodthirsty.
Incompetent, ineffective bunch of shitheads. They’d managed to kill the very person they needed alive and then compounded the mistake by eliminating the wrong witness.
Annoyed, Nico started the engine.
“You’re no fun, Russian. Now what?”
At this point there was only one option left: track down the shift’s supervisor and ask who the fuck had dispatched Maldonado’s flight. Which he’d hoped to avoid, more than anything because Donald Solis, as luck would have it, was on vacation. In fucking Hawaii.
He drove into traffic, almost running a red light. Shit, he couldn’t think in this heat wave. He didn’t get how people could live like this, constantly sweating. The sun frying their brains. He’d take freezing temperatures any day over this. Cool kept you sharp, in movement. No wonder these assholes never got shit done and their tempers exploded at the smallest setback.
“Sure we can’t take a short detour to play with that fats—”
Carlos didn’t finish the word because Nico had smashed his face on the dashboard.
Then he cranked up the AC. Much, much better.
Chapter Ten
“Stop staring at my sister-in-law’s boobs,” James said to Jack. “You’re going to break blood vessels in both eyeballs. I don’t dare to guess what’s happening to your other more Southern pair of balls. Strangled blue, right?”
“I’m staring at your son.”
James let out a bark. “Right. Try again.”
Jonah was laughing and gurgling, looking happy as all fuck, lying on Elle’s chest and nuzzling her tits. Lucky kid. Jack would be happy as all fuck too in his position. Had been, just several hours ago. Elle’s shirt was getting ruined with so much dribble, but she didn’t mind. She continued kissing and caressing the baby while she talked to Tate, both of them sprawled on lounge chairs.
“You’re sleeping with her,” James stated.
Jack didn’t answer, but apparently his friend didn’t need confirmation.
“Don’t bother denying it. I can see it in the way you look at her.”
“How do I look at her?” As far as he was concerned, he was scowling like always. Because she drove him crazy, like always.
“Proprietarily. Like she’s yours.”
She was. For the time being at least.
“I knew this was going to happen if you spent any time together,” James continued. “The only reason it hasn’t happened earlier is because you avoided her like the plague.”
“She is a pest,” he muttered. A sexy, extremely fuckable, and devilishly attractive pest, but a pest nonetheless. That he wasn’t in a hurry to shake her was what surprised him the most.
As if she felt his gaze on her, she turned to him and winked. Fuck, she was beautiful. More so now that she’d lost the braids.
“You were in luck, buddy,” she’d said as she’d came out of the beauty salon the day before, her thick hair free again. “The braids were too tight and itchy. If I had liked them, there’s no way I would have given them up for you.”
He was sure about it. Heck, she probably had put up with them longer than she would have if he’d kept his trap shut.
“Has she tried to ditch you again?” James asked, taking him out of his reveries.
“Not recently, no.” Then again, he hadn’t given her many opportunities. He spent the day trailing her, and the night between her legs. “She does a million things a day.” Even on Mondays, when Rosita’s was closed, she organized a boot camp in her backyard for the women of her neighborhood. Where she got the energy, he had no idea.
“What happens when this situation is over?” James asked. “When you’re not forced to spend time with her?”
“I’ll walk.”
James’s expression went hard. “Jack—”