Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 78696 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 393(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78696 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 393(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
Lenore flipped him off, narrowing her eyes at him in the process.
“It’s also unattractive to scratch your balls for long periods of time in front of everyone, but do I ever say anything about that? No, you fucking fucker. I do fucking not. So fuck off,” Lenore growled.
She was three sheets to the wind and was using fuck like a comma.
I wondered what had happened to get her into such a fine mood.
And I’d also have to check the urge to scratch my balls in public since it was vastly apparent she didn’t like it when men did that.
“Well,” I said, walking up to the table. “This is a loud conversation y’all are having.”
I looked around at the patrons of the bar, and nearly every one of them were glaring at Lenore and Remy like they were the plague in the room.
“Fuck them,” Lenore growled. “And fuck you, too.”
I rose a brow at her.
“And what was that for?” I asked carefully.
She sniffed at me, refusing to answer, instead turning to Remy and snapping her fingers at him.
“Pass the mother fuckin’ salt, bitch,” she ordered.
I closed my eyes and tilted my head back, trying in vain to hide my smile.
She was absolutely trashed.
Whatever was the level of intoxication beyond drunk, it was fair to say that Lenore had exceeded it.
Easily.
She didn’t sound drunk, though.
“What do you do for a living, Mig?” Lenore asked the man at my side.
“I’m an ATF agent. Why?” Mig asked shortly.
Mig wasn’t big on answering questions, especially ones that came from women.
He, for some reason, thought it was because all women were out to make his life a living hell like his wife did.
It could never be an innocent question, according to Mig.
Lenore’s brows rose at Mig’s short answer, and she leaned forward.
“You’ve got to have the worst attitude on the planet earth,” she declared as she leaned even closer. “You remind me of someone I used to know.”
Mig’s brow rose. “Oh yeah? Who’s that?”
Lenore leaned back and smiled. “My grandfather. He was so awesome,” she gushed. “He used to yell at everyone but me, though. No one else was saved from his abuse.” She smiled dreamily. “He used to go pump gas and complain that the pump pumped too slow. Or when he got a cake from the bakery and the colors were wrong, he’d make them remake it or he’d get his money back. He was the king of complainers.”
It bothered me that she was fond of the fact that Mig resembled her grandfather.
In fact, I was downright jealous of Mig in that moment.
Lenore hadn’t so much as said a single nice thing to me in the time I’d been sitting there, and I was getting really irritated with that fact.
Which was probably why my mouth got away from me.
“Why the fuck are you ignoring me?” I asked shortly.
Lenore slowly turned to face me with a ferocious frown on her face.
Mig picked up his beer to hide his smile, and I wanted to beat the shit out of him.
“You want to know why I’m ignoring you?” Lenore asked sweetly.
A little too sweet, in fact.
I nodded my head. “Yeah, I fucking do, or I wouldn’t have asked.”
I was getting just as pissed as she was, which wasn’t a new thing.
In fact, I’d always had temper problems.
When I was younger, my mother liked to call me her little bull baby because I was like a bull in a pasture. If something pissed me off, I would charge it.
I had gotten a check on that part of myself when I’d gotten into the military and the army boot camp sergeants knocked the absolute shit out of me for talking back to them.
But it never went fully away.
And there were times that it reared its ugly head when I least wanted it to.
“Shit,” Remy sighed. “Why don’t y’all take this outside?”
Neither one of us listened as we both made our way to our feet.
Lenore stood about six inches from me as she moved so close to me I could see the different hues of her beautiful, angry eyes.
“I am not the type of woman that you just fuck and sleep with,” she said angrily. “I am a woman that you should take out on dates. I am a woman that you should call and give updates on your daily life. I am a woman that deserves to know that you’re alive and not dead in some fucking ditch on the side of the mother fuckin’ road!”
Ahh, the fucks were back.
Got it.
And I was just as angry as she was.
“I haven’t had fucking time to call you the last week,” I replied just as angrily. “I’ve been working. I’ve been trying to catch the piece of shit that killed my son.”
She narrowed her eyes at me. “Well, would it have killed you to tell me that?”
I glared at her. “I was busy.”
“I see,” she said in a deceptively quiet tone. “So what I’m hearing, basically, is that you’re busy, and I don’t rank high enough on your to-do list to warrant more than a quick fuck every few days followed by a nap. Got it. I see where I stand.” She narrowed her eyes. “Unfortunately, that doesn’t work for me, so I’m thinking that maybe you should leave me the fuck alone and tell your damn friends to do the same.”
My ‘friends,’ as she called them, were protecting her, and had been for nearly two weeks now.
They’d been taking turns watching her during the day and into the night until she got home.
When she got home, they used the surveillance I’d rigged up at her house to give her her privacy, but they were still able to ensure her safety by keeping an eye on the feed.
“My friends are there to make sure you don’t get shot at like I did yesterday,” I hissed, moving so close that her nose was touching mine.
Her eyes widened.
And I wanted to keep shouting at her, but I could tell that my words had thrown her.