Page 403 of Devil’s Disciples

Men like Cash irritated me. Always the cynic. No. No. No. I don’t believe it. Prove it. I didn’t see it, so it didn’t happen. I don’t understand it, so it can’t be. Trust was a two-way street, and if he wanted me to trust him, he needed to trust me. I didn’t expect him to trust me just yet, but at that moment, it wasn’t about trust. It was about intimidation. He was trying to intimidate me.

I studied him.

His hair was cut short on the sides, and he wore it long on top, like an old-school punk rocker. His massive arms were covered in tattoos and his jaw was darkened by a few days’ scruff. He would probably intimidate most, but I wasn’t most. I swallowed my desire to tell him to fuck off and took two steps in his direction. Just to prove he didn’t scare me.

I looked him in the eyes. “I’ve done bank vaults in the past.” I said, my tone flat and without emotion. “In fact, to clarify, I’ve manipulated locks in several rural small-town banks.”

He said nothing.

With that problem solved, I turned to Baker. “Where were we?”

He glanced at each of the men. “Bank vaults would start a whole new chapter in the club’s book, fellas.”

“I still call bullshit,” Cash barked. “Nobody can open a bank vault. They’re impossible. That’s why they’ve got ‘em at banks. Cracking a bank safe is for TV and movies. Next thing you know, she’s gonna tell us she’s got a pet dragon.”

If I didn’t do something about Cash and his big mouth, he’d continue to walk all over me. I turned around and gave Goose a back me up on this deal look, and then shot Cash a look.

“How big is your dick?” I asked.

His face went flush. “Huh?”

I crossed my arms. “You’ve got a dick, right?”

The closet filled with sniggers and laughs.

“Fuck yeah, I do,” Cash responded. “A great big fucker.”

“How big is it?” I asked. “In length.”

“Nine, on a bad day,” he responded. “Why? Wanna see it?”

“Nine?” I laughed. “In centimeters, maybe. Yeah, I better see it.”

I really didn’t want to see his dick. I glanced at Goose and gave him a help me out, dear wag of my respective eyebrows.

Cash reached for his zipper. “Are you serious?”

I crossed my arms and pursed my lips. “I’m calling bullshit,” I said mockingly. “I’m going to need you to get it out and whip it up to full size. Big guys with big mouths are usually hung like field mice.” I nodded toward his hand. “I’m ready when you are.”

“Kimberly’s going to love hearing about this,” Goose said.

Thank you, dear.

My guess was that Kimberly was Cash’s significant other. While I waited for Cash to withdraw, I wondered if he treated her in the same disrespectful manner that he was treating me.

He crossed his arms. Again. “I’m not showing you my dick.”

“But you want me to believe you’ve got a nine-incher?”

“I do have a nine-incher,” he huffed.

I raised both brows. “Want to know something?”

His eyes narrowed. “What?”

“I believe you,” I said. “Would you like to know why?”

“Sure,” he responded, even though the tone of his voice told me otherwise.