Remy (Golden Glades Henchmen MC 4)

“I am talking about how female dogs in fighting rings get strapped to a rape stand and forced to take it over and over from the male dogs so they get all riled up enough to rip each other’s throats out in the ring. That is what I am talking about. So, you just turn right around and walk away or I am going to get all ball-stabby on you.”

“Ball-stabby,” he repeated, and those nice lips of his started to twitch a bit at my choice of words.

“Well, not stabby. But kicky. I will get all ball-kicky on you,” I told him. “Don’t underestimate my flats. They can still do damage,” I warned him with a confident nod, even though I was faking the hell out of it.

“I’m sure they could. Luckily, you won’t need to kick my balls,” he told me with an all-together too nice smile, all perfectly straight white teeth that made me make a mental note to schedule my next whitening appointment.

“That remains to be seen,” I informed him.

“I’m not from the fight ring,” he said, shaking his head. “I saw you prancing around like a cartoon criminal and I got curious. That was all.”

“I thought I looked more like a criminal in a home security commercial, but okay. I stole this dog,” I told him. “I’m a terrible criminal,” I added, shrugging. “I wouldn’t last a second in the clink.”

“Clink?” he repeated, that boyish smile tugging at his lips again.

“Hey, people call it that.”

“In gangster movies, maybe,” he agreed.

“It’s a weird term. I mean, where does it even come from?”

“The sound the doors and chains make,” he told me.

“Oh, well, that makes sense then. But, yeah, I would be a terrible prisoner. Can’t keep my mouth shut for shit.”

“I noticed,” he said, chuckling.

“I’m saving this dog,” I told him. “You can’t stop me.”

“I wouldn’t want to.”

“I wanted to save the others, but they padlocked the cages.”

“You couldn’t have carried more than one dog this size anyway,” he said, reaching his hand out toward her.

I stiffened, but she seemed to like what she smelled.

I’m right there with you girl, I told her silently. He smelled like the beach and a hint of that after sun lotion that kind of smells a bit like banana and coconut mixed together. In a world full of spicy cologne, it was actually really refreshing.

I did not want to lean forward, press my face into his neck, and take a deep breath.

Because that would be crazy.

“That’s a good girl. You have a shot at a good life now. Do you have a plan for her?”

“A big steak and lots of head scratches,” I told him. “In the short-term. The long term is yet to be seen.”

“Can you have dogs where you live?”

“Yes. But if she somehow doesn’t like me, I will find someone she loves. She is never going to go back to anything like that.”

“Good for you,” he said, nodding. “Good for you…” he tried again, exaggerating the end, making it clear he wanted a name.

“Lark,” I told him.

“Lark. Nice to meet you. I’m Remy. I have a bunch of rescues. One of my cats was destined to be a bait cat.”

“That’s horrible. I hate people.”