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“Have you not let the poor girl go yet? Please tell me you’re not going to kill her.”
Looking down at the girl with a frown, I reply, “I don’t want to kill her—she’s only young. I was going to pay her off, but by crying for help, it tells me she might run back to her cop mother. Then I really would have to kill her.”
The girl clamps her mouth shut.
“Give her the phone,” Harper says with a sigh.
“Excuse me?”
She chuckles. “You heard me, I speak whore, remember? Just give her the fucking phone or you will not get laid anytime soon.”
I sigh and hold the phone out to the girl. “My woman wants to talk to you.”
“Hello,” she whispers. “Money G . . . He will kill me . . . You could do that? Okay.”
She hands the phone back to me. “What did you just do? And who the fuck is Money G?” I ask, and Harper laughs.
“I fixed your problem. You’ll need to pay her pimp a visit at some stage, but you need to bring her to me, please. If she passes an STI test, she is coming to work for me.”
Now I laugh. “You realize her mother is a cop, right?”
“You realize her mother is a cop, yet she is still a prostitute. Just bring her down. I will do all the paperwork, and if she doesn’t pass, then you can deal with her.”
“Fine,” I grind out while looking at the girl. “But if she fucks up, I will put a bullet in her skull.”
“Well, be quick. If you’re a good boy, I might suck your cock before you leave.”
“I’ll have to take a rain check. We have to meet with all the heads of the families. My uncle royally screwed us. Make sure everything is legal and above board, they might be back to see you.”
“You know I will. See you soon.”
“Fuck, Harper, I think it’s stuck in my ass.”
My skin crawls at the male voice that floats from the background. “If you touch his ass?—”
“I have to go,” she interjects. “Dylan thinks he has a sex toy stuck in his ass.” With that, she ends the call.
How the fuck do you only think you might have a sex toy stuck in your ass?
Darragh pushes the door open. “What’s the plan? Do we kill her?”
I shake my head. “Harper is taking point on this one.” Darragh stays silent but raises a brow at me. “Don’t start. Just get her up—we need to leave.”
“I wasn’t going to. If anyone is equipped to deal with the prostitute, it’s Harper.”
I shake my head, fairly sure he even meant it as a compliment. I really don’t get what is going on between them, but Darragh knows now if he touches Harper against her will, I will kill him, family or not.
Ronan really did turn down the blow job I offered him, though I know I shouldn’t pout about it, not when he has business to take care of and so do I.
Dylan managed to get a novelty condom with a weird rubber ball on the tip stuck up his ass, but luckily Whitney, our full-time nurse on staff, was able to get it out. I walk back into Whitney’s room, where Isla—the girl Ronan brought in—sits on the bed holding a cotton ball to the inside of her arm.
“How long do the results take to come back?” she asks.
“Twenty-four hours,” Whitney replies.
“You all done here?” I ask Whitney, and she nods. “Good, let’s go to my office, Isla, and fill out some paperwork.”
Isla slides off the bed and follows me into the hall. “I’m going to give you the tour now and run through the rules with you.”
