Morrison (Caldwell Brothers)

“Are you leaving?” She sits up and stretches.

“No, just need to do a few things.”

“Okay.” She gets up and stretches again, lifting the shirt so I am seeing little lacy bottoms.

“Hey, Slick”—she snaps her fingers—“eyes up here.”

“Busted.” I smirk.

“Yeah, well, thank you for last night, for yesterday, for helping us out.”

“My pleasure. Now go get in bed.” The way that comes out mirrors the nasty little thoughts traveling around in my head. I shrug and she rolls her eyes. “Sorry, babe. You just look so damn tasty right now. You need to go before I stop being such a damn gentleman and—”

“Morrison,” she stops me. “I really do appreciate it.”

“I know. Now go.”

The funny thing about appreciation is that it doesn’t get you laid.

I jump in the shower and look down at my dick. “Been a long time since the two of us have been intimate; years, actually. But here’s the drill”—I wrap my hand around myself—“that girl out there, the one who has you standing at attention and peeking out of my pants, begging to get inside of her . . . Well, she’s had it rough. Now simmer down. It’s not the kind of ‘rough’ you like. She sees you and me as a job.

“Now I know,” I say, stroking faster, “she didn’t act like that before, but with knowledge comes responsibility. So you and I are gonna get to know each other as well as we did at sixteen years old, ’cause the next time I’m up in that, and you’re seeing platinum up close and personal, Betty Badass out there is gonna have begged for it. She’s gonna know you and I are not a job, a payment, or an obligation, but a gift.” I close my eyes and think of that fine, fine ass I am going all crazy over and pump myself harder, faster. “I promise you this,” I grunt out. “There is no way in hell I’m letting go of platinum.”

“What do you mean, Detroit?”

I push her hand back at her. “Look at the tickets. We’re heading out in a couple hours, just for a little while, long enough for this to blow over.”

“There is a tournament this weekend, and I can win it, Morrison. I can win it and pay him off!”

“You need to think about that real hard.” I look over at Marisa, who is sitting on my leather couch with a bowl of grapes, wearing my wireless Bose headphones and singing along to some cartoon show.

“Do you like Sofia the Firs?” she yells when she sees me looking at her.

I smile and nod my head, even though I have no fucking clue what she is talking about. And I am sure she’s gonna spill those sticky-ass grapes all over my couch, but I’m okay with it. I am, dammit.

“Did you hear me?”

I look back at Hailey, who is scowling at me, and I shake my head. “Unless it’s ‘Morrison, I know you’re right, because last night I admitted nothing is more important than the little singing chick on your couch, and I am just so fucking st—’”

“Watch your mouth in front of her,” she scolds.

“She can’t hear me.” I laugh. “No more hustle, Hailey.”

“I have to keep her safe.”

“Well, that means you have to be safe. Who does she have without you?” Yes, I am laying it on thick, but that fucking wall of hers looks much better crumbled on the ground at her feet.

“You just want to own me, fuck me—”

“Watch your mouth in front of her,” I throw her words back at her, and she scowls again but says nothing. “Here’s another thing you need to stew about: I’m not gonna touch you, and I don’t want to own you. I want to do something right. I made a promise to a woman that I would do good in this fucked-up world, and I have been a selfish prick up until now. So, if you need to keep up this tit-for-tat shit with the checks and balances, add that to the I owe you side. Now get that fine little ass in there and pack up a couple suitcases so we don’t miss our flight.”

She doesn’t move.

“Little momma, don’t make me say it again.”

We pull up in front of Hendrix’s place in a cab, and Marisa looks out the window. “It’s green here.”

“It sure is.” I get out and snatch up the little chick because, honestly, I’m thinking Hailey might slam the door and lock it before telling the cabdriver to pull out and take her away from here.

I keep Marisa in one arm and grab bags out of the trunk with the cabbie. Then I pay him and watch as Hailey glances around skeptically.

“Look what the cat dragged in.” I look behind me as the garage door opens to see Hendrix, Jagger, and Livi walking toward us.