Fury on Fire (Devil's Rock #3)(19)

Serena lifted her head from the couch. He grimaced at the large drool stain she’d left on his cushion.

“North!” Her bleary gaze fastened on him. “C’mere! Why aren’t you naked yet!”

He approached the couch. “Shh. You don’t need to shout.”

Not that he had ever cared before. Suddenly he was very conscious of the woman living next door to him.

Serena popped up and started shrugging out of her clothes, her movements determined.

He grabbed hold of her hands. “Not tonight, Serena.”

She wrenched away and collided with the lamp on the side table, sending it crashing to the floor. She gawked at the wreckage for a moment before bursting into laughter.

“Shit,” he grumbled as he moved to pick it up and set it back on the table. It listed to the side, the shade mangled. This was stupid.

He glanced back to find Serena topless and squeezing her tits like she was working the stage at Joe’s Cabaret. “Come on, baby,” she called, her voice loud enough to be heard down the block. “You know you want to play with the girls.”

His gaze drifted to the wall as though he could see through it to the woman undoubtedly listening on the other side.

He sighed, feeling suddenly far older than his years. Serena was fine as long as she wasn’t drinking. Fortunately, this was only the second time he had to deal with her like this. But he was thinking two times was two too many.

He snatched up Serena’s shirt and pushed it at her to take. “C’mon. Get dressed.”

She grabbed the shirt and tossed it across the room with a cowgirl yell. Hopping to her feet, she wobbled unsteadily on the couch cushions, her arms jerking wildly at her sides in an effort to balance herself. Her lack of balance didn’t stop her from bouncing like it was a trampoline.

“You’re going to fall and break your neck,” he snapped.

She continued to bounce, her hand slapping the wall with every jump. “C’mon, North! This is fun!”

“I’m going to pass.”

Thump! Thump! “Keep it down!” Faith Walters’s voice carried through the wall, her agitation coming through loud and clear.

“Serena,” he snapped. He caught her hand and tugged her down from the couch. She decided to accommodate him by launching herself in his arms. He caught her neatly.

“Aren’t you strong? Like a f*cking tank,” she gushed, pushing her giant breasts against his chest, her hands snaking over his shoulders. “Speaking of f*cking, take me up upstairs.”

He sighed. There was no sense talking to her when she was in this condition. He’d let her down in the morning. Be as kind as he could, but there would be no confusion. They were done. Hopefully there wouldn’t be any drama. They weren’t a couple. This wasn’t a breakup, after all.

He carried her upstairs and deposited her on the bed. She rolled onto her back on his mattress, stretching like a cat. Her eyelids drooped to half-mast over her glassy gaze. She extended one hand up to him, inviting him to join her.

“I’ll be right back,” he lied.

Turning, he marched back downstairs and helped himself to a beer, confident that she was close to passing out. Leaning against the counter, he waited, staring hard at the living room wall, wondering what Faith Walters was doing now.

For some reason it bothered him that she thought he was in here banging a drunk woman. And that was senseless. Stupid even. Why should he care what she thought of him?

Whatever the case, it didn’t stop him from thinking about her. From wondering. Did she go back to bed? Did she sleep in that green mask? Did she f*ck wearing it, too? Shaking his head, he released a little laugh.

He didn’t think she was married. There hadn’t been any evidence of a husband or live-in boyfriend. She appeared to live alone. Meaning she wasn’t getting any. At least not recently.

Well, maybe she should. Maybe that would help loosen that stick up her ass. Maybe then she wouldn’t care about what sounds she heard coming from his house at night. He took a pull of beer and wondered why he was suddenly so interested in Faith Walters’s sex life.

He let another ten minutes pass before he headed back upstairs. As suspected, Serena was asleep, sprawled across his bed, fresh drool falling. Grabbing the top blanket on the bed, he gave it a yank and took it with him as he headed back downstairs. He didn’t feel like sharing a bed tonight.

He dropped down on the couch, rested an arm over his forehead and pulled the blanket up to his waist. Rolling his head sideways, he stared at the wall until he fell asleep.





SEVEN




Faith woke the next morning feeling resolved, if not rested.

A sudden shout from outside and the slam of a door didn’t even faze her.

Of course. Why wouldn’t last night’s drama carry over into the morning?

Bowl of cereal in hand, Faith moved to her kitchen window and watched the redhead storm out and jump in her car. Serena took off with tires squealing. Apparently last night’s fun didn’t extend into the morning hours. Shrugging, Faith moved back into the kitchen. She rinsed off her bowl, spoon, and set them inside the dishwasher.

She was done. She would leave no more notes asking North Callaghan for anything. She was a Walters. That meant she had resources. Normally, she didn’t like to pull strings, but it was time. Time to cast her principles aside for a greater purpose.