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Her fingers fiddled with her top. Then she said the words that sealed her fate.
“Can’t you just lock him up somewhere?”
He grabbed her elbow, and in one smooth move, he pulled her up from the bed.
“Nobody puts Loki in a corner.”
“What?” She looked dazed as he ushered her outside.
When he looked in the hallway, Baran snapped his fingers and held out his hand to Yuri. And Viking knew, just knew, the smug motherfucker had predicted this outcome. Probably put money on it too. He always fucking did. That’s why no one ever played poker with him. Yuri, who’d never met a pussy he didn’t want to make purr, looked surprised, then cursed. Yeah, he owed Baran now.
“You’re kicking me out?” Mandy finally got the memo. “Over a stupid dog?”
He pushed her up against the wall. Her eyes grew large, and a flicker of worry showed in them. Yeah, she was getting the picture.
Loki was a moody bastard, grouchy on a bad day, annoyingly chipper on a good one, but it was his fucking dog. Viking wasn’t locking him up anywhere, ever.
“You call him stupid again and I’ll smash your pretty face. Apologize.”
Her mouth dropped open. “What—?”
He mushed her lips together, giving her the duck-face expression she so obviously had paid for.
“Not ‘what.’ Apologize. To my dog.”
As always, Loki was right there when he needed him. Standing at his master’s feet, barking at the woman who had invaded his territory.
Mandy looked down and swallowed. “I’m sorry that I have offended you…dog.”
He let her go and cut his men a look. “Get her out. And don’t let her back in. I’m sick of this shit.”
A little voice in the back of his mind, in the dark vortex that sucked up all light, told him the actual reason he was so pissed. The stupid girl had reminded him of a certain dog lover.
They claimed revenge was a dish best served cold; it was a lie. Viking had waited sixteen years to kill his long-time rival and archenemy. It had done nothing to quench the simmering rage inside him. Worse, it seemed to still grow inside him every day, like a roaring beast, ready to pounce on anyone who even gave him a side glance.
He went back inside to his lonely apartment and turned on an LP. Immediately, AC/DC’s “Highway to Hell” blasted through the speakers, the lyrics perfectly matching his mood. The record player looked ancient, but nothing sounded as good as vinyl. He’d barely gotten his Monster energy drink out of the freezer when a knock sounded on his door.
It was Baran with an odd expression on his face.
“What is it now?”
Baran stepped aside and revealed a young girl standing behind him in the shadowy hallway. She was tall, had curly hair, and looked barely legal.
Viking held back a curse. They always seemed to find him. Women with daddy issues, who loved to have a one-night stand with a “silver fox.” If one more of them purred out that ridiculous name for him, he was going into spank mode, and not in a good way.
“She’s been looking for Mr. Skarsgard,” Baran explained, watching him for a reaction with those eyes that never missed a thing.
What the hell was up with him tonight?
“Didn’t I just tell you I’m done with this shit? What part of it didn’t you understand? The done or the shit?”
“I think you’ll want to deal with this…shit.” Then the bastard just turned away and left him alone with the coed.
This one was even younger than most who visited him and seemed out of place in more than one way. She looked sophisticated, in her designer jeans and shirt that didn’t show any cleavage. Also, her fingers were white from clutching her bag, indicating she felt far from comfortable.
He shook his head. “Whatever it is you think you’re looking for, little girl, I ain’t it. Now, go off to your real dad before some asshole does takes you up on your offer.”
The girl bit her lip. “I can’t do that, sir.”
