Rook’s actions shouldn’t affect her like this.
They shouldn’t.
But, damn it, they did.
Rook worked his way through the dark, his mind on Crazy Pete’s last night instead of where it needed to be, on where he was headed.
He needed to concentrate on what he was currently doing. Not who he wanted to do. He needed to scrape Jet Bryson out of his fucking brain. Even if it was with a rusty spoon.
He was fucking pissed at himself. He had planned on fucking that woman—he didn’t even know her damn name—last night, but once he got her up into Dodge’s apartment, he no longer had any desire to.
Instead, he sat in a chair and watched Dodge fuck her.
But most of the time he was lost in his own damn head. Everything Dodge was doing to that chick, Rook was picturing doing the exact same thing to Jet.
Jet on her hands and knees, with him behind her, fisting her long, almost black hair so tightly that her neck couldn’t arch back any farther, the cries and pleas coming out of her mouth, encouraging him to fuck her harder, to smack her ass, to pull her hair.
To make her submit.
By the time Dodge was done with the woman, Rook’s hard-on was raging to the point of pain. But he still turned down the offer she gave him to fuck her once Dodge was done and headed back downstairs to finish his shift. She’d been disappointed and annoyed, but Rook didn’t give a fuck.
But he did give a fuck about the reason he couldn’t take what she so freely offered.
That Bryson bitch.
He hated her before. Now he hated her even more.
She fucked up his night and his plans on getting laid. All by simply showing up at Crazy Pete’s and putting her nose where it didn’t belong.
If Jet thought he’d ever work with her, she was goddamn wrong. He didn’t want to be anywhere near her. Not while she wore a badge, a uniform and that tool belt of torture.
Fuck. Her.
He knew the path he took through the woods like the back of his hand now. The one he and Easy had worn down with all the times they’d climbed that mountain. First searching for Shade, then taking over the Clan Plan after he was found. Or, actually, after he returned home.
Rook had been tempted to head up Hillbilly Hill last night after he left the naked woman in Dodge’s bed, still whining about not getting the threesome she hoped for.
When he’d slipped out the rear door of Pete’s, he was relieved to find the stool Jet had been sitting on empty. He was even more relieved to not find her waiting out back for him by his sled.
That could’ve been bad. Really fucking bad.
Especially in the mood he’d been in.
He figured a trip up the mountain to bag himself a Shirley might relieve some of the frustration that had been building. To the point he was ready to fucking blow.
And if he did, it might get ugly.
Concentrate, asshole.
His warning came too late when the tip of his boot caught on something under the carpet of leaves and, before he could catch his balance, he keeled over and face-planted in the dirt with a grunt and an abrupt loss of air.
He searched for his breath, waiting for his lungs to refill, before pushing himself back up to his knees. “Fucking stupid ass. Always doing stupid shit. Got stupid ideas. Fucking up everything.”
He allowed himself a few seconds more to berate himself. Then he got over it, like he always did. Wallowing in his bad luck or a shitty situation had never helped.
He pushed to his feet, wiped his muddy hands on his black cargo pants and stared up the dark path.
He should just head back down. He was too fucking distracted tonight. He could easily fuck up, which could end up being his final fuck-up.
Would anyone even care if he was gone?
Yeah, maybe someone might care. Maybe.
He hadn’t been a good enough son for his mother.
For years, he had disappointed his father.
He and his brother were always on uneasy terms.
The only one who accepted him completely was Cage’s daughter Dyna. That was because she was too young to know better. The baby held no expectations for her uncle. At least not yet. That day would come, though. It always did.
He skirted the main clan compound and took the left fork in the path to head higher up the mountain. Shade had told him about a cabin that was more remote and the male Shirley living in it was on the younger side. He’d be easy to overpower, especially if he didn’t know what hit him.
That was the preferred way for Rook to hunt. He preferred not to be seen at all. Go up, do what he had to do and get out in one piece.