Unthinkable (Unstoppable 2)

“Still waiting,” Leon murmured, strumming a beat across the desk with the blunt edges of his fingers.

“Better get comfortable, Pretty Boy. You’ll be waiting a very long time.”

He exhaled and dropped back in his chair. “Would it kill you to show some gratitude, Alissa?”

I shrugged. “I’d rather not find out.”

His mouth formed a reluctant grin as he pushed back, the front legs of his chair leaving the ground. “You’re an ungrateful brat, you know tha

t?”

“And you’re a cocky asshole. Guess we all have our flaws.” I hit him with a pointed look. “Do you remember sticking your size ten in that giant trap you call a mouth and making Riley feel like an even bigger jerk than she already did? Want me to thank you for that as well, jackass?”

The chair legs hit the ground with a clatter and Leon scratched at his whiskered jaw, his expression contrite. “Yeah, I feel like shit about that. I didn’t think.”

I rolled my eyes. “Do you ever?”

“Sheath your claws, Snow Queen. You already strung me up by the ball sack for it once. Can’t a guy make a mistake?”

A snorted breath left my lips. “In your case, yeah… seventeen years’ worth.” When he opened his mouth to respond, I added, “None quite as big as the one your mom made nine months before you were born, though.”

Leon’s eyes narrowed. “You’re fucking cold.”

“I’d say the nickname you bestowed on me gives it away.”

Tipping his head to the side, he studied me, his sea-blue eyes unusually serious. “Do you hate all men? Or is it just me?”

The unexpected question drew a sudden breath from my chest, and I averted my gaze.

No, I didn’t hate all men. Just most of them.

Because most of them made decisions with the head between their legs instead of the one on their shoulders and wouldn’t recognize fidelity if it slapped them around the face with a wet vagina.

Leon Bradshaw fell into that category.

For years, he’d claimed to be in love (whatever the hell that word meant; from what I could gather, it was open to interpretation) with Riley, yet it had never stopped his dick from wandering into other girl’s open mouths. Amongst other holes. The fact he and Ri were never officially together meant nothing; he’d said the words, then shat all over them. Lies poured from his gilded tongue like every other playboy I’d ever met—including the one who’d fathered me.

“Miss Bedford, why are you still here?”

My disoriented gaze snapped up to find a pot-holed face glaring down at me. “Just leaving,” I mumbled. Thoughts of my dad always left a bitter taste in my mouth, dredging up old memories I’d rather keep buried.

“Do it faster,” Pickman barked, tiny droplets of saliva peppering the surrounding air. I eased back to avoid the spray. The guy was renowned for spit-showers; anywhere within a two-foot radius was too close.

As I walked backward toward the exit, I caught Leon’s gaze and offered him a middle finger salute. Then I swivelled and strolled through the open doorway.

That’s about as close to an apology as you’re ever gonna get from me, Pretty Boy.

I didn’t owe Leon Bradshaw a thing. And I never would.

THREE

LISS

The screen on my phone lit up, catching my eye as I lay sprawled out on my bed watching Gossip Girl re-runs on Netflix. I paused the TV and picked up the phone. My brows lifted with a light snort when I saw the name flashing across the screen, and I dropped the cell back down on the comforter.

Not today, Pretty Boy.

Thirty seconds later, it blared to life again. With an irritated growl, I pulled my body up into a sitting position and crossed my legs over each other, swiping the screen to answer Leon’s call.