Unbeautifully (Undeniable, #2)(20)

“Asshole!” Tegen shrieked, running after him. “Give it back!”

“Language!” Dorothy chastised.

Still holding her backpack over his head, Cage grinned down at her. “Aw, Teacup, what’s the matter?”

“Don’t call me that!” she yelled, jumping up and down like a jackrabbit on crack, trying to reach her bag when it was obvious that unless she grew about six inches in the next five seconds, there was no way in hell she was going to even come close. “I’m not a little kid anymore!”

“No?” He laughed. “You finally grow outta that trainin’ bra?”

“Cage!” Dorothy snapped. “Inappropriate!”

Tegen’s pale, freckled face turned bright red with rage and just as Ripper thought she was about to blow, Cage faked left and then went right, darting around Tegen and back into the hallway.

Letting out a frustrated scream, Tegen went shrieking after him.

“Dammit,” Dorothy muttered, following them. Just before she left, she shot a glaring look in Hawk’s direction that promised all sorts of pain in the genital region.

“In case you forgot,” Dirty said. “That’s Jase’s woman.”

“No,” Hawk growled, “she’s Jase’s whore. He’s never gonna leave Chrissy.”

Dirty shook his head. “Brother, don’t go there. Not with Jase, not over D. He ain’t gonna give her up.”

Hawk’s hard brown eyes bored into Dirty. “Dude,” he muttered, smiling grimly, “you’re a couple years too late with that bullshit.”

Surprised, Dirty glanced at Ripper and he shrugged in return. He hadn’t seen that shit coming either, but the truth of the matter was that Dorothy wasn’t Jase’s old lady, she was club ass, always had been. So if Hawk wanted to go toe-to-toe with Jase over the little redheaded bitch, he didn’t give a f*ck.

“So, I’m guessin’ that means no * to go,” Dirty said dryly.

“Yeah,” Hawk muttered. “Not really feelin’ it.”

Dirty turned to him. “Ripper?”

He looked down at his bottle. If he were being honest, he really didn’t want any *. Except the one he wasn’t supposed to want. The one in the pink bikini with the firm little ass and perfect tits and tight, sweet *.

Internally, he groaned. He had to stop this shit.

Then, as if the entire motherf*cking universe was against him and setting out to make his life as miserable as possible, Danny chose that very moment to walk into the kitchen. She took one look at him, turned bright red, and walked right back out.

Sighing, he glanced up at Dirty.

“Naw, dude,” he muttered. “I got a hot date with a dead worm.”

CHAPTER EIGHT
Deuce pulled up to the house on his bike and cut his engine. His truck was here, meaning Eva was here, something he’d been hoping to avoid. He hadn’t seen her since she’d shown up at the club with Ivy, and that had been weeks ago.

Sighing, he climbed off the bike and headed for the door. He didn’t have much of a choice. He had to make a run to Manhattan; Preacher wanted proof that business was going bad on the west coast, that his boys out there were double dipping off his profits. Audio proof that ZZ had recorded on a disposable cell phone he’d been keeping in his bedroom safe.

Upon entering the house, he found the downstairs dark and the house quiet. Relief filled him. Maybe she wasn’t home. Maybe Kami had picked her up, maybe—

At the top of the stairs, he found Eva laying Ivy down in her crib. Leaning over the railing, softly stroking her hair, she kissed their daughter good night and whispered, “I love you.”

Watching them, his woman and his daughter, Deuce’s chest started to ache. He missed them both. He missed all of it. Coming home to his family, watching his kids interact with each other, the laughter, the bickering, even the yelling, just taking it all in and enjoying everything he hadn’t had growing up. Then later, after Ivy was asleep, Danny in her room on her phone and Cage gone for the night, he would take Eva upstairs, strip her naked, and f*ck the hell out of her.

“You’re home.”

His eyes flew open.

“So are you,” he said, hating that his words came out sounding like an accusation.

“For some reason Danny hasn’t been going to the club at all lately,” she said softly, nodding toward Danny’s closed bedroom door. “And like you said, she shouldn’t be home all alone.”

Guilt swamped him. He’d said that and yet he’d done nothing about it.

“Are you leaving?”

He glanced back at Eva.

“Yeah,” he muttered. “Demon delivery.”

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah.”

She waited a moment, expecting him to offer up more information, and when he didn’t, she nodded and turned away. He followed her down the hallway and into their room, watching as she bent down to pull open her bottom dresser drawer. She emerged with a pair of ratty sweatpants and an old T-shirt, both his, tossed them on the bed, and started undressing.

He kept watching until she was naked, taking it all in. The flower tattoos down her arm, the natural slope of her heavy breasts, the hills and valleys of a body he’d never tired of, the slight bow of her stomach, the ring through her belly button, the tattooed stars encircling it, her perfect, heart-shaped ass.