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Unbuckling his seatbelt, Legend read his phone. “To add to this good news, Daddy Dagger is still being pursued but is safe and with brothers.”
Teasingly, I rolled my eyes. “Oh, dear lord. Not this ‘Daddy Dagger’ nonsense again.”
Still sitting next to me, Lynx grinned. “The man can’t help the nickname lovers have labeled him.”
I lifted my brows accusingly. “Maybe not, but if I hear one ex-lover speaking of your body, she’s going to ground.”
The truck exploded with hefty laughter, then Legend teased with one of my past insults, “Leathered old men who reek of tobacco, let’s make this quick. Piss then food.”
I cringed. Did I call them that?
Vice reminded, “Or, ‘exhaust-pipe sniffing morons’.”
Oh. I had said that, too.
Legend continued, “Muffler-toking dimwits?”
And that.
Vice laughed. “That was a funny one.”
“Hey,” reminded Lynx, “Let’s not forget she called you and Dag Nancies.”
Boy, I got that one wrong.
Vice’s head bobbed. “And ‘challenged’.”
I winced. Oops. Got that one wrong, also.
“Insane,” Legend said proudly.
That one was correct! They are insane!
Vice admitted, “We are insane.”
I shrugged. See?
Lynx chuckled. “I think I heard her mumble ‘Bike-riding boneheads’ once.”
He heard that?
“Leather-wearing baboons!” cheered Legend.
“Ding-dongs.” Vice shook his head. “Precious, did you mean dick?”
On wheels.
“Oh yeah,” Legend carried on. “I forgot about that one. She was pissed!”
“Hey,” I warned them. “Tread carefully. This pain in my shoulder may make me crabbier than my monthly cycle—”
Three doors swung open and then slammed shut.
I was now sitting in an empty truck. “Pussies.”
Knuckles rapped on the windows. “We heard that!”
Grinning, I whispered a nickname I hadn’t spoken out loud, and wouldn’t admit, as their egos were already out of control. “Leathered Angels.”
