Ramsey Security (Ramsey Security #1-3)(130)

“Why?”

“Because it’s what Memphis wants.”

Sighing, I flop into the chair. “I hate working for outfits. They have unrealistic expectations.”

“True but I did work for Memphis for a long time. I’ll run interference so you don’t get stuck in their web. Can you work with Dino to dismantle Black’s organization?”

“How clean does Johansson want Common Bend?”

“Black has likely put new people in charge of the main parts of the town’s businesses.”

Kicking off my boots, I wish I had something to eat in the room. “The pharmaceutical side shouldn’t be difficult to clean. I don’t get the sense Black knows anything about safe production. If his new people don’t either, they’d likely blow themselves up. We can just speed that along.”

“Let me know if you need anything. I can send supplies or people. I’m also only a few hours away if you need the big guns.”

“Listen to you brag,” I say, laughing. “Do you think Troy will fly in and Dino can return to Houston?”

“Doubtful on the latter, but I’m sure Troy would help out.”

Imagining Dino and Troy growling at each other, I decide I can’t handle more testosterone.

“No, let Troy play cuddles with his woman. Dino should provide a decent human shield.”

Rafael remains quiet for a minute, and I feel him thinking. Rolling my eyes, I wish I could slap him through the phone.

“What?”

“Dino is sweet on you. He might make mistakes based on those feelings.”

“Sweet? He’s a dog in heat. I’m sure that’s not a new experience for him.”

“Whatever you have to tell yourself, princess,” he says, and I hear him fighting laughter. “Call if you need anything. Otherwise, have fun.”





9


Dino

Fly Me to the Moon

The corpses on the ground taunt me. Killing them would have impressed Minka. She likes a strong man, and I am a strong man, but this stupid bear-sized f*cker decided to ruin shit. I ought to kick his ass for ruining my big moment, but he’s carrying a shotgun like he knows what I’m considering.

“Nicely done with the skirt,” he says, clenching the cigar in his teeth.

Realizing what he means, I frown. “How did you know? Are you stalking us?”

Hayes taps at his throat and then points at mine. “The hickeys are a dead giveaway.”

Fixing my shirt collar, I shake out my shoulders. “The girl knows what she wants.”

“Or she’s bored in a small town.”

“Fuck off, Mountain Man.”

“Big talk for a guy standing in someone’s piss.”

I look down and realize the dead guy relieved himself at some point.

“I ain’t sorry to leave behind the days of cleaning up my messes,” I say, wiping my shoes off on the guy’s chest. “Good thing I have the help to do it for me now.”

Hayes grunts, but his focus is on approaching guys dressed in painter gear.

“Scrub it down, boys,” Hayes says, resting the shotgun over his shoulder and walking away. “Watch your back, Piss Feet. I won’t always be around to do it for you.”

I want to flip him off. No, I’d rather beat the shit out of him. Maybe shove that shotgun up his mountain-man ass.

Or I could go inside and find Minka. She’s probably in a bad mood, and I’d like nothing more to f*ck her back into a smile.

The girl at the front counter smiles at me when I walk inside. The shooting did nothing to cramp her day. No, the folks in White Horse shrug off such annoyances.

Minka is less blasé about the recent violence when I join her in the room. She’s spread out on the bed, frowning at her phone.

“The gorilla is cleaning up the mess he made.”

I rest my guns on the table next to Minka’s. Emptying out of my pockets, I find a music station on the phone and set the channel to Dean Martin.

“I don’t like that music,” Minka announces, trying to piss me off.

“No accounting for taste, Apples.”

I walk to the bed where she watches me warily. She’s thinking about work when she should be thinking about us.

Reaching down, I pull her by the ankles until her ass hangs off the bed. Minka is dead weight, bored of my attempts. So much indifference in her smoky eyes. So little idea of how determined I can be.

I tug her to her feet and wrap an arm around her waist. Like magic, the song Fever begins to play. Holding her tightly against me, I swear this woman has infected me with something fierce and addictive.

My hips move to the rhythm, but she remains a wet noodle. Minka stares in my eyes, and I love not knowing what she’s thinking. The mystery in her gaze could mean anything. Will she hit me? Laugh at me? Throw me on the bed and ravage me? The not knowing makes me unbearably hard.

“Do you use these moves a lot?” she whispers as her hips finally dance with mine.

“Never had to before.”

“Stud,” she says mockingly.

“You really were a virgin before me.”

Smiling, Minka wraps her arms around my waist. “Yes. Be gentle, Mister Sausage.”

“Oh, I’ll be tender,” I whisper. “Until I’m not.”