Page 100 of Property of Whiskey

She smiles. “Knew it.”

“Not scared of him.”

“Sure.”

“Don’t flatter him.”

“Then why?”

“Badge.”

“What about it?”

“Club.”

“Badge and club ain’t an explanation.”

“Kid.”

She stops.

Wren. That one she understands without me explaining.

“Life,” I say. “I got enough shit without having Sheriff Dix’s daughter in my bed.”

“Your bed?” Her eyebrows rise.

I look at her standing between my knees in Mama’s basement after I tackled her, handcuffed her, kidnapped her, and dragged her down here against her will.

“Now I clearly make terrible fucking decisions.”

She laughs again.

I shouldn’t enjoy that sound so much. I do.

Her cuffed hands settle on my shoulders. “What if I told you I’m not trying to get your keys?”

“I’d call you a fucking liar.”

“What if I told you I don’t care about them right now?”

That gets dangerous.

I sit straighter as my cock doesn’t believe in lies. “Twila.”

“What?”

“You wanna use me to get loose, don’t.”

Her smile fades.

“I’m not trading your freedom for pussy.”

Her eyes flash. “That’s crude.”

“I’m a biker.”

“Right.”