Rush (Carolina Bad Boys, #5)(8)

Or kill me dead.

I hadn’t decided yet.

Best buddy?

Maybe.

Evil shit.

Definitely.

He spotted me.

I pumped the iron.

Brodie killed time with his nonstop smack-talk. “Hey, Maxi Pad, now that your name’s not a secret anymore—”

I glared up at him with sweat dripping down the sides of my face.

He grinned. “Challenge you to a bench-press-off?”

“It’s Max, which you’ve known since I started working here, boss. I prefer Handsome.” Gritting my teeth, I lifted the deadly heavy bar above my head again. “Besides, I’m the only one doing any work out here. And if you wanna give me a nickname”—my biceps bulged, my chest strained—“how about To The Max?”

He choked on laughter, and I heaved the weight onto the stand with a last grunt. Stepping away from the bench press, I swabbed my discarded T-shirt across my pumping chest.

“I thought it was Good to the Last Drop just like Maxwell House.” His wicked smile grew. “That what happened with that Shiloh babe the other week?”

My eyebrow arched into the atmosphere. “Shy? Sucking my cock? I don’t think so.”

“She was into you, man.”

“Like a sister.”

“Ya know”—Brodie followed me when I hit the fucking sandbags—“I heard from Nick incest is making a comeback.”

It was my turn to choke.

“In the romance world anyway.” Standing next to me, loudmouth dug into the sandbags, hefting them two at a time at the same rate as me as we dodged across the wicked obstacle course devised by Bo. “Stepbrother books, all the rage,” he huffed out.

“You’re fuckin’ with me.” I slammed both sandbags from my burning shoulders to the ground and picked up two more to start back on the same zigzag pattern across eight yards of overturned tires, tricky crisscrossed wires meant to trip us up, and the final jump across a murky, dugout ravine.

“Nah. But I think that Shiloh of yours wants to be.” Brodie catapulted his sandbags across the lot until they hit the fence.

“Whatever with the books.” Shudder. “But it’s not like that with Shy and me. Known her since forever. She’s friends with my sister.”

My estranged sister.

“Shiloh’s fucking hot.” Coletrane came out to shred some weights, catching the tail end of our conversation.

“And that’s somethin’ I never wanna hear come out of your mouth again.” I turned my snarl on him.

“Riiiight.” Brodie chuckled, wiping a towel down his face. “All about the brotherly love, Handsome?”

“I’ve had enough of you jackasses.” I’d already spent way too much time since Shy stepped back into my life thinking about the consequences of all the shit I’d pulled in the past.

No matter what, I wasn’t about to let any blowback from those bad old days touch her. “I’m done here.”

“Why? ’Cause you’re already Maxed Out.”

Jesus Fucking Christ. This shit with my name was already getting tired.

Slinging my shirt around my neck, I grabbed a bottle of water and drained it. Three-pointed it into the recycling bin and started toward the MC for a quick shower when Tail swung his head out the back door.

“Your lady is in the hiz-ouse, Handsome!” He called out.

Shit.

That could only mean one thing.

Shy was back.





Chapter Five


Babe Fever





BRODIE PERKED RIGHT UP, quickly wiping his body down. Cole peered over with interest, too.

“Where?” I asked.

“The front. That is one fucking helluva hot ride she’s got.”

“You better not be talking about her ass,” I grumbled.

“That too.”

I nailed Tail with my dark glare.

Brodie cleared his throat as I stalked past the other man. “He has very brotherly feelings for Shiloh.”

Bastard was rolling his eyes. I knew it.

And dogging my heels. I practically felt him breathing down my neck.

No time for a quick rinse off, not if I wanted to get to Shy before drooling dickheads salivated all over her, apparently.

What the fuck was it with these guys and new cherries?

Strike that. No way in hell was Shy becoming the latest cherry on the block. No fucking way. Rayce and Sadie had been the last two, and they’d been snatched up by Retribution dudes. Not that there was anything wrong with the matches they’d made with Boomer and Kinkaid, respectively.

But a sassy, sweet, super smart South of Broad woman—my childhood pal—was not gonna become jerk-off material for a bunch of roughnecks.

Ripped and ready, I cut through the dim, cool interior of the MC.

Sweaty, half naked, with my shorts riding low, I stomped past the pool tables.

My tats gleaming, my muscles charged, I barged out the front door. Brodie trailed me, grinning like an evil ape when I swung my head back to—yup—sling about my fifth glare of the day c/o Shiloh Lockhart.

I was usually a pretty easygoing guy.

Something about having her hanging around turned me into a snarling animal.

Then I saw her helluva hot ride—a fucking white Hennessey Hellcat with a black racing stripe.