Christine Feehan - Street Game

Kane wasn’t a man to mince words, or to be afraid to face her wrath. The whole incident had been too damn traumatic for all of them and he didn’t want it repeated. He hadn’t said a word in front of the others, but she was going to hear him-especially after Mack had enlightened him about his conversation with her. She wasn’t disappearing from their lives a second time.

Jaimie thought he was going to break every rib she had. He was squeezing the breath out of her as he emphasized his words.

It was Mack who came to her rescue, gently pulling her from Kane’s grasp, a grin softening the hard edge of his mouth. “Don’t kill her, Kane. I know we discussed it, but didn’t we just decide on severe punishment?”

“Something like that. You look great, honey, too good to be out on your own without protection. What the hell was the frying pan for?”

Jaimie groaned in exasperation. “I’ve had the lecture, thank you very much.” She threw a little glare toward Mack. “I was safer without a gun. And don’t start in on my alarm system. I’m just testing various systems and I don’t expect anyone but the average burglar to break in.”

“Well, just look how wrong you can be.” Kane’s vivid green gaze was taking in the wide-open space. “Wow. Again I say wow.”

“Admiration, I hope.” Jaimie’s hands went to her hips. “Respectful admiration. Mack didn’t give me any.”

“This place is out of sight.”

Mack rolled his eyes. “I should have known you’d be as dippy as she is. It’s a warehouse. Jaimie is living unprotected in a seamy part of town in a drafty old warehouse.” Mack indicated the far corner. “Take a look at that pint-sized bed.”

“Did you think you were going to take over my bed?” Jaimie demanded, her large eyes flashing a warning at him. He was not taking over her life or her bed.

“First order of business,” Kane said. “Tomorrow, Jaimie, we get a couple of decent beds in here. You have any beer?” He was already striding toward the refrigerator.

“Of course she doesn’t have any beer,” Mack scoffed. “She doesn’t drink. And where do you think you’re going? You can’t leave this stuff here.”

Kane was peering in the brand-new, very modern refrigerator. “Uh-oh, little Jaimie has some explaining to do.” He pulled out a bottle of Corona and popped off the top.

Mack’s eyebrows shot up. “Didn’t the doctors tell you not to drink alcohol, Jaimie?”

“Stop trying to sound like my father.”

She attempted to shove him, her hand flat on his heavily muscled chest, but shoving Mack never worked. He simply brought up his hand to cover hers, pressing her palm over his heart.

“You don’t have a father,” Kane reminded, swallowing half the bottle of beer in one gulp. “That’s our job.”

Jaimie tugged to get her hand free. She never discussed her past if she could help it, not even with the ones who had seen her through it all.

“And we’re good at it,” Mack pointed out smugly. His hand kept hers trapped against his chest. “Why would you have beer in the fridge?”

“Entertainment purposes, and stop ruffling my hair.” She ducked under Mack’s hand.

“You cut it.” Kane made it an accusation.

“It’s just the right length for ruffling,” Mack pointed out. “Entertaining who?”

“Whom,” Kane corrected, his head back in the refrigerator. He came out with a handful of turkey slices. “Thank God you’re over your vegetarian phase. I nearly starved.”

Mack hefted two bags over his shoulder and followed Jaimie across the carpeted floor to the bedroom wall. “Who’s she entertaining with beer?” he demanded. “Let’s get some answers here.”

“Stop harping.” Jaimie curled up on the bed, watching him stow the gear in the corner.

“It isn’t harping if I don’t get an answer.” Mack stood right in front of her, his dark, gleaming eyes on her face as he began to unbutton his shirt. Jaimie couldn’t tear her gaze away from his hair-roughened chest, the hard, defined muscles, his flat six-pack belly. She swallowed hard as his hands went to the waistband of his jeans. “Don’t you dare take your clothes off in my bedroom, Mack.”

He flashed a taunting grin. “You don’t have an over-abundance of walls, little darlin’. Where exactly am I supposed to get undressed?”

“Well, not right here, for heaven’s sake.” Her long lashes fluttered in shock. “The bathroom would be much more appropriate.”

Kane found a deep, comfortable armchair and sat down with a second beer and a sandwich. “Get away from that innocent little thing, you oversexed lout,” he said mildly.

“Tell her to answer the question.” Mack didn’t take his glinting black gaze from her startling blue one as he dared her.

“I did answer your question. Go ahead and change in the bathroom.” Jaimie’s chin lifted belligerently.

“The other question, the important question. Who’s the beer for, Jaimie?”

Her fist thumped the pillow. “You’re going to make me crazy, Mack. All right. It’s for my assistant, Joe Spagnola. Are you satisfied now?”

“Damn it, Jaimie,” Mack snapped, his eyes blazing.

Kane sat up straighter, a dark frown on his face.

“Well, I couldn’t do this alone,” Jaimie hastily defended. “There’s a lot of work and he’s been invaluable.”

Kane snorted derisively. “Invaluable.”

“She gives him beer to drink,” Mack muttered under his breath. “How old is your Joe Spagnola?”

Jaimie threw her hands in the air. “Look, he’s thirty-two or so, I don’t know. What difference does that make?”

“You got this guy up here drinking beer in your bedroom and you don’t know what difference it makes?” Mack said, taking a step closer to the bed. His hands were at his sides, fingers opening and closing ominously. “Is he single?”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake.”

Kane hitched himself closer in the chair. “You bring that guy up here alone with you?”

Jaimie made a T out of her hands. “Whoa, there, guys. Stop right there. Time out. I’m not a teenager anymore and you are not my guardians.” She glared up at Mack.

“I’m not yours. You got that? I’m not yours. I know what you’re thinking and you can just forget it. You aren’t going to do one single thing to Joe. Not one. In fact, you will be polite to him.”

Kane and Mack exchanged a long, wordless look. Mack turned away and stalked to the bathroom, every line in his body conveying pure outrage. Jaimie threw her pillow after him. The pillow hit the bathroom door just as he closed it. “Don’t egg him on, Kane,” she ordered. “You know how impossible he is.”

Mack called out to her from behind the bathroom door, his tone somewhere between a threat and suppressed rage. “Somehow I don’t think your Joe is going to get along too well with us. Drinking beer in your bedroom. What will you think of next?”

“He was not drinking beer in my bedroom,” Jaimie denied hotly. “Where do you come up with this stuff? And it wouldn’t be any of your business if he did,” she added furiously.

The bathroom door flew open so hard it slammed against the wall. Mack swept up the pillow, hardly breaking stride. He was wearing dove gray sweat bottoms, obviously a concession to her modesty, and nothing else. His body rippled with muscle, with pure strength, as he moved toward her with all the stalking grace of a predator.

“It’s my business, honey, anytime anyone is in your bedroom. Scoot over.” He tossed the pillow on the bed behind her.

“I’m not going to scoot over,” Jaimie argued. “Find your own bed.”

Mack sank down on the edge of the mattress, suppressing a grin as Jaimie automatically retreated. “It’s late, Kane. You aren’t going to sit up all night eating, are you?”