Page 76 of Last Man Standing

They say this woman freezes in the face of danger?

Bullllshit. “I see how it is.” Snickering, I glance down at her drawing and know, without a shadow of doubt, she’s either seen my brother half naked, or she’s seen my father’s… leg. Probably the former. “Would you draw something for me if I asked nicely?”

“No.” She doesn’t give my question even a single second of consideration. “Ask your brother. He might.”

“Which brother?”

“Either. Can you leave now? Or should we continue to pretend this is a simple matter of fun conversation and not what it really is?”

Curious, I bring my apple up again and nibble. “What is it really?”

“Supervision. A security detail.”

“Do you require a security detail? Is it for your protection? Or everyone else’s?”

She rolls her eyes. “Pretending, then. Noted.” She works on her dinner at a steadier pace, shoveling potatoes into her mouth fast enough I know she’s doing it for the sake of escaping me.

“Where is my brother, anyway?”

Glancing up, she parrots me with a little too much sarcasm to be considered friendly. “Which brother?”

“Bas. He was eating in the chow hall a little while ago, loaded up a tray I figured was for you, but now you’re out here… alone… with just a fork.” Suspicious, I peer back toward the hall. “You didn’t stab him, did you? I know he can be a prick most of the time, but he’s pretty decent once you get past the bullshit.”

“Didn’t stab him.” She swallows her potatoes and washes the lump down with water. “Though I’m often tempted. What time did he come to eat?”

“What— He—” I snap my lips closed and consider her for a moment. “What?”

“Sebastion. Dinner’s at six, right?”

Uno reverse on the interrogation tactics. She’s good. “Yes,” I answer warily. “Dinner’s at six. Why?”

“Sebastion ate at six?”

What are you getting at, Shorty? “Yes. He ate around six. Just a bit after.”

“Does he typically sit with his friends for an entire hour while he wolfs down ten thousand calories and loads up another plate for the road?”

“No.” Her phone vibrates against the chair, buzzing loud enough to draw my eyes and make her grit her teeth. And that’s when it hits me. She wants to know if he was with a lady friend after dinner. “He ate in ten minutes flat. Then he got up and said he had someplace else he had to be.”

Buzz buzz. Buzz buzzzzzzzzzzzz.

“I see.”

Oh, Bas. You’re in trouble, bro. You’re in big trouble.

“I wonder if he visited tits or blowjob?” she quips sourly. “Personally, I feel neither conducted themselves appropriately.”

“Why? You think sending sexy texts is trashy?”

“No, I think begging a man like that to pay attention to me is trashy. He talks of his dick so often, I’d say he’s willing to fuck anyone with a hole. The fact they’re begging speaks legions about them and allows him to flitter from woman to woman with zero accountability for whatever mess he leaves behind.”

“I mean…” She’s so fucking jealous, it’s eating her up inside. “I have it on good authority he never leaves a mess, Ms. Castro. He doesn’t like to waste a drop, if you’re picking up what I’m puttin’ down.”

Her cheeks blaze a fiery red, and fuck my stiff dick, her eyes dance with something I’m absolutely not allowed to think about. Or I die.

“Maverick!”

I jump in my seat and pretend Bas’ ferocious snarl as he stalks through the door doesn’t scare the piss out of me.