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Crazy Cruel Marriage

Page 113

by Nicole Snow

Even now, after I fucked her before dinner and after, she still looks so inviting I have to pinch my arm to drag my miserable lovesick ass away.

In the darkness of the bedroom, I glare at a message lighting up my phone.

We need a meeting this a.m. Promptly.

Everhart Fitness Center, back room.

Dr. Goddamned Rennick.

Just past four a.m.

Most of the world has the decency not to call a meeting at that hour, but I’m not sure if this android ever sleeps.

Rennick doesn’t do a lot of basic things, like simple human decency.

He’s also the only asshole on earth I need to answer to.

This time, he wants me to meet him at a fitness center downtown, the one owned by the clinic for employees only.

Apparently, I screwed up, so I’m not getting invited to the ivory tower anymore.

Not a good sign.

Neither are the two big mercs standing at the fitness center door when we pull into the parking lot. They wear black uniforms, zero identification, and thick armor bulging over their clothes.

My crew stays fit, and so do I, but these bruisers are next level.

All huge, ex-military men who look like they just walked off the battlefield. If push came to shove, these guys could grease us before we ever had a prayer of piercing their thick turtle armor.

The place is closed, of course, the neon sign and hallways dark.

I know what this is.

Intimidation tactic.

Bullshit.

I’ve had enough cowboys up my ass trying to pull this shit on me over the years.

I don’t care what cards he’s holding, even if they include bigger, deadlier hired guns than my crew.

Rennick might have the upper hand, but we’re partners.

I’m not his fucking errand boy.

“You want me to go in with you, boss? Moral support?” Bufalo sighs from the driver’s seat.

I pat the gun under my jacket. “No, I’ve got this covered.”

And I do.

Rennick isn’t stupid enough to try any funny business here.

If he does, Bufalo will sound the alarm, and he’ll have an all-out war on his hands. This chickenshit doctor might be king on his own turf, but the man travels.

Sooner or later, he’d slip. My brothers would bag him and avenge me.

This is just another talk. A hardass lecture where he rubs his point in and tries to scare me shitless, hoping I’ll fall down and grovel for the sake of our cash flow.