Blood & Bones: Rook (Blood Fury MC 7)

“Uh…”

He tucked it in between his lips, pulled a Bic lighter from the same tin and lit it.

“Are you fucking serious?” He couldn’t be serious.

“Whataya gonna do? Arrest me? Whataya gonna put in that little box where you fill in the location for the arrest? Jet’s bed? Bet your pig brethren would love that shit. Bet they would love to know whose cum’s fillin’ your pussy right now.”

She pulled herself up to a seat next to him and watched in disbelief as the smoke he’d pulled into his lungs escaped his lips and drifted toward her ceiling.

“First of all, my lease doesn’t allow smoking. And that’s the legal shit. Second of all, unless the law changed since the time I went to sleep earlier, what you’re doing is not only illegal but breaking your parole.”

“You sure like to remind me about my parole, darlin’.”

“It’s probably something you should keep in mind every time you do something to break it. Unless you don’t mind finishing your sentence behind bars.”

“I do.”

“Then that’s a good reason to be aware of not only what you’re doing, but who you’re doing it in front of.”

Without even the slightest concern, he took another long drag from the joint, held it for a few seconds and this time when he let the smoke roll out of his mouth, he sucked it back up into his nostrils.

What a useful skill that was.

After one more long hit, he pinched out the end and tucked the lighter and joint back in his little tin, setting it on her nightstand like he did it every night.

“Shit should be legal,” he finally said.

“I’m not going to argue that, but until it is, it isn’t.”

“When’s the last time you popped someone for smoking a little weed?”

“Never.”

“You just look the other way?”

“No, for personal use, I just issue a citation and let them pay the fine. If it’s enough for distribution, then I’d have cause for an arrest.”

He jerked his chin toward the tin. “Issue me a citation then.”

“You’d just rip it up and throw it away. Or smoke it.”

He twisted his head toward her and smirked.

God, that damn smirk! She couldn’t decide whether she should punch him in the mouth or kiss him.

“Doesn’t your PO drug test you?”

He shrugged. “Sure.”

“And you’ve never pissed hot?”

“Nope.”

“He hasn’t taken hair samples?”

Rook pursed his very skilled lips and considered her. “Keep my hair really fuckin’ short.”

He certainly did. It was much shorter than most of the guys in his MC. Shaved on the side and short on the top. “That’s why?”

“One reason.”

“They could pull any hair. Even pubic.”

“My PO wants to get on his knees and stick his face in my dick, he’s welcome to. But, if you haven’t noticed, I trim my shit down there, too.”

She’d noticed. It wasn’t shaved clean but it was short. “You shave your pubes before you have an appointment with your PO,” she concluded.

“Yeah.” Another damn cocky grin.

She grabbed his arm and lifted it. His pits were bare. So was his chest. But he had a light fuzz on his legs. She tugged at a few strands of his leg hairs and shook her head. “Doesn’t mean he won’t show up at the garage at any time for a surprise test.”

“Doubt he will. He’s pretty fuckin’ overworked.”

She sighed.

“Why’d you wanna become a pig?”

What now? “Why do you want to know that?”

“Wanna know why you’d do somethin’ so dumb.”

She snorted. “Dumb? Like going to prison?” She took a deep breath. “Are you serious with that question?”

“Yeah.”

Was he trying to get to know her better? Like actually get to know her instead of only her body?

Why she became a cop wasn’t a secret so, in truth, no reason existed not to tell him. “Why not? It’s in the blood. My dad was a Marine and a cop. I saw how proud he was of his career. Saw how proud he was when Adam enlisted and then went on to earn his badge. I wanted to make my dad proud, too, by serving my country and then serving my community.”

“You were a Marine?”

She was surprised he didn’t know that. Maybe he’d forgotten or when he had learned that fact he hadn’t cared at the time.

“Still am. Once a Marine, always a Marine. Oorah.” The last was whispered and not shouted like normal. “Both my father and uncle followed in my grandfather’s footsteps. They encouraged their sons to do the same.”

He stared at her. “But not you.” He grabbed her left hand, which had been fisted on her thigh, used his fingers to spread out hers and planted her hand onto his chest, keeping it pinned there with his own.

“Not me,” she whispered.

What the hell was he doing? Trying to be intimate?

What the hell was going on with him?

“You did anyway.”

He was confusing the hell out of her. This type of touching. These types of questions. “Yes.”