Page 75 of Ballistic

“Worked for the Bojanski’s when I was a kid.” Dax chomped down on an onion ring and took a sip of his Coke. “My buddy, Jase, and I would help rough up people who owed them money.”

“So, really, you do the same thing Kenny does. Minus raping kids.”

“Yeah, minus that shit.” Shooting me an unamused glance, his lip curled in disgust. “But it’s checks and balances out here, Nic. The line between good guys and bad guys sometimes gets blurred. I never punched an innocent man, though. I can say that, at least.”

“I’d say you’re one of the good ones.” I lifted his Coke to take a sip, then stuffed another bite of the coney into my mouth. “How long do we wait?” I asked around an ungracious mouthful of bread and meat.

He lifted a second hot dog from the bag and glanced over at me. The man ate like a horse, which made sense for his size, if not the chisel of his muscles. “Settle in, kid. These poker games sometimes go well into the morning.”

“If the guy’s a buddy of yours, why not just go in and drag him out the back door?”

“Too many eyes and neutral territory. You and I are supposed to be laying low, remember? ‘Sides that, we passed a cop about a block back. Someone calls, it’ll be game over.”

I licked the sauce from my fingertips, savoring the spice of the mustard I’d squirted it with. “So, when you’re not beating up guys who owe money, or pedophiles who send you dick pics, or climbing abandoned buildings, what do you do? For a job?”

“I worked for a long time, installing floors.”

“Floors? Seriously? That’s so … boring.”

The flex of his jaw and bob of his throat when he swallowed held me rapt for some reason. Distracting.

“Only job I ever held that felt legitimate, though. Kinda made me feel normal for a while.”

“So, you quit it?” Popping the last bite, I crinkled the paper and stuffed it into the bag set on the floor.

“Just found vigilante work more rewarding—financially and spiritually.”

I reared back at that. “You make money doing this? How?”

“People like the idea of someone going after scum. I post a video online?” He shook his head and lifted his Coke for another sip. “People go crazy when they see it. I’ve been offered everything from weekends on a yacht, to rent-free living and marriage proposals.”

“Marriage? You’re a celebrity, then.” I set my feet up on the dashboard and crossed my arms, thinking how many women would lose their shit if they knew how skilled he was in the sack, too.

“No. I’m a guy who goes to sleep every night wishing the world wasn’t such a shitty place, sometimes.” Dax eyed my legs before tearing into his next bite. “Problem with playing a victim is, you become acutely aware of how many predators there are. It’s fucking depressing.”

The mere thought of him stalking those vile men roused the urge to hop in his lap. Over the last couple of days, my cravings for touch had intensified, thanks to whatever he’d done on that roof. Probably altered my brain when I’d climaxed. As though he’d cracked open my nerve endings, leaving them raw, my skin burned for the feel of his hands. “You’re a predator, too, though. An apex.”

“I am. I like to hunt pussies.”

I smiled at that, letting my knees fall open and catching another sly glance out the corner of his eye. “What time is it?”

“Ten o’clock. Games usually go until two, but I’ve been at some that go until about five in the morning.”

“So, we’re looking at about four, maybe seven, hours in here?”

“Looks like it.”

Rubbing my hands over my thighs peeled his gaze from the food in his hands. I watched his jaw flex, thinking back to only hours before, when his face had been between my thighs, and something tugged at my stomach, not unlike those seconds before a pink pill had been set against my tongue. I needed him again. The tremble of withdrawals made me all too aware how quickly my body had replaced one addiction for another. “You know, I’ve never had sex in a ‘Cuda before.”

He cocked a brow and lowered the hot dog from his mouth, his eyes seemingly hungry for something, too. Always ready to offer a fix. “Is that an invitation?”

Biting my lip failed to hold back the smile tugging at my mouth. “What if it is?”

“Then, you need to get your eager little ass in that backseat before I finish eating.”

“Or what?”

“You’re going to end up with coney sauce on your tits.”