Fight Dirty (Black Rose Kisses 1)

“Rory’s a pain in the ass,” I mutter. “What did you find?”

“He’s done some fighting before. Like your dad, but not as serious, it looks like. Sloan’s apparently the son of the current leader of the Black Roses. Some guy named Gavin Kennedy. He’s next in line to take over.”

That makes sense. I remember the man who seemed to be in charge last night, and the resemblance between him and Sloan. Shit. That means the leader of the Black Roses himself is involved in whatever’s going on with my dad. That can’t be good.

So they’re skilled, these assholes who I have to live with for the next… however long. Rory’s built like a fighter, muscular and quick under all that teasing, so that makes sense, and Sloan’s ruthless and probably good in a fight himself if he was raised by the leader of the Black Rose gang. They’re hot and badass on top of it, the kind of men I definitely would go after if I saw them in a club or at a fight and didn’t know who they were.

But I hate them anyway.

Because I do know who they are.

Nothing I hear from Scarlett changes the things they’ve done to my dad, and I have to stay focused on that.

“Thanks for looking into it,” I tell Scarlett. “I’ll just have to figure out more about them while I’m here.”

I don’t tell her about my plan to find out enough about the Black Roses to give myself some kind of bargaining chip if it comes down to that. I’m not sure it’s a good idea to talk about that anywhere in this house, including my new bedroom. I highly doubt the room is bugged or anything like that, but it would be stupid to get complacent.

“Keep me posted,” Scar replies. I can hear the worry in her voice. “And like I said, be careful.”

“I will,” I promise. “On both counts. Take care of yourself.”

“Always, babe.”

I feel better when we hang up. Bolstered by the extra bit of confidence, I finally creep out of my room. The house is quiet, and I wander around downstairs for a bit, poking around here and there. The living room is neater than I would’ve expected with three dudes in their twenties all sharing the space, and I peek at their collection of DVDs

and games, not surprised to see it’s all action movies and shooters.

Like they don’t get enough violence in their real lives?

The couch is leather and plush as hell, but I resist the temptation to sit down on it. I don’t want to be comfortable here, and I definitely don’t want one of them to come in and see me making myself at home. With my luck, it’ll be Rory, ready to make some stupid jokes about what he’d like to do on the couch with me, and the calm I’ve managed to hold on to will be shattered.

Bored with my exploration, I head back upstairs and follow the sound of music to a closed door that’s a little way down the hall from my bedroom. I remember Levi pointing it out as Rory’s room, and I smirk, getting an idea.

It’s stupid.

Fucking with any of these guys is like playing with fire.

But clearly, he needs someone to show him what it feels like to be barged in on. If I’m going to be living with these three assholes for who-knows-how-long, they all need to learn to have a bit more respect for other people’s personal space.

So, just like he did to my room earlier, I open the door wide and step inside.

And then I freeze, my eyes almost popping out of my head. The snarky comment I was about to make dies on my lips.

Standing in the middle of the room, fresh from the shower and wearing only a towel slung low around his waist, is Rory.

For a second, all I can do is gape at him. Everything is on display, from his damp golden brown hair to the thickness of his arms and the tattoos that wind their way up both arms, over his biceps and shoulders in two full sleeves.

I’ve got a half sleeve on my right arm, colorful swirls of ink that I saved up for months to get done. I can admit I’ve got an affinity for tattoos, and his are fucking stunning.

His pecs are well defined, just like his abs, and it all leads down to his hips and the cut lines at his hips that point like a damn arrow to his crotch, barely covered by the towel around his waist. A thin trail of brown hair forms a path leading right to what is probably a big ass dick if the rest of him is any indication.

My mouth literally waters before I can do anything to stop it, and I’m definitely frozen in place, staring like a fucking idiot.

Rory’s surprised expression melts into a smug smirk in a matter of seconds, and he puts one hand on his hip, drawing my gaze right back down to his crotch again. Dammit.

“If you’re starting a tit for tat, you better be prepared for the tat,” he says, one eyebrow lifted and mischief sparkling in his bright green eyes.

“I can handle you any day of the week. You’re really not that impressive,” I retort, not even sure what I’m saying as I slam the door closed and lean against it for a second, trying to catch my breath.