He closed his eyes in an attempt to wipe that image away.
It didn’t work.
He preferred not to pop a boner sitting next to Easy. In his desperate attempt to avoid that, he blew out a breath and took another long draw of the Jack. He glanced down when Cujo appeared next to him and put his two tiny front feet up on the bench. He wanted up in Rook’s lap.
Spoiled motherfucker.
Easy eyed up Cujo. “He likes you.”
“You think?” Rook asked, the sarcasm thick.
E laughed and took another swig of tequila. “Not sure why he does since you’re such a dick.”
“‘Cause he’s a dick, too. Us dicks gotta stick together.”
“Like a bag of dicks,” Easy joked.
Rook reached down, scooped up the damn dog and peeled off the tiny sweater Reilly insisted he buy for the tiny rat bastard.
Easy held out his hand for the joint and almost lost a finger when Cujo lunged for it. He shook his head. “Never pictured you with a dog you gotta dress up. Gonna buy it a damn tutu?”
“Dog don’t have enough hair to keep it warm. Reilly said it’ll freeze to death without a coat or sweater.” Jet had also mentioned it but he couldn’t tell Easy that.
“You always listen to Reilly?”
Rook shrugged one shoulder. “Only sometimes when I want her to shut the fuck up.”
Easy grinned and turned back to stare into the fire. “Woman knows how to run her damn mouth.”
“Have you seen her around the bunkhouse lately?”
Easy pursed his lips and tilted his head. After a few seconds, he said, “Only when shit’s goin’ on and she needs to be here. Or wants to get in the middle of shit she don’t belong in.”
“Notice if she’s been hangin’ with anyone in particular?”
Easy glanced at him, his brown eyes narrowing. “What d’ya mean? Like with one of the ol’ ladies?”
“No.”
His brow shot up. “Oh, shit. Someone doin’ her?”
“Don’t know. She’s hard to read since she flirts with just about anyone with a functionin’ dick.” Rook snorted. “Well, except for Dutch.”
“Why d’you care?”
“Just tryin’ to avoid drama. We don’t need another blanket party.”
“Yeah, your brother was fucked up for a bit after his.”
Rook stroked the short black-and-tan hair and Cujo circled a few times on his lap before curling up with a groan. “Yeah, well… Figurin’ Reese will be the one wieldin’ the club, instead of Judge, on whoever touches her.”
Easy grinned. “I’d be more scared of Reese clubbin’ me than the big man.”
“Yeah,” Rook breathed. “She’d probably go for the nut sac.”
Easy’s grin turned into a grimace and his hand automatically covered his crotch.
Rook had considered breaking the no-touch rule with Reilly a few times in the beginning. She touched everyone near her as much as she talked, and while it might be innocent on her part, having a hot, young blonde doing a lot of handsy shit tended to send a man’s thoughts into the damn gutter. With a hard-on.
But now, having worked with her as long as he had and dealing with her smart-ass attitude, getting involved with her might’ve driven him crazy enough for him to kill her instead of fuck her.
What he liked about Jet was the fact she was a tough bitch when she had to be, especially when it came to her job, but she dropped that masquerade in the bedroom when she gave him control.
Just how he liked it.
His blood began to rush and his dick twitched.
Yep, in bed that power was handed over without hesitation. And that was hot as fuck.
Strong but bendable, that was what she was. And definitely fucking flexible.
He groaned, forcing himself to keep from rubbing his dick.
He took another hit off the joint, offered it to Easy, who waved it away, and he put the roach back into the tin. He dislodged a comfortable Cujo from his lap and, as he was getting to his feet, he heard the front door of The Barn bang open behind them followed by a rush of cold air.
He turned his head and just about shit his fucking pants.
Chapter Nineteen
The bitter winter air wasn’t the only thing that rushed through the open doorway.
Rook’s heart completely seized when he saw Scar shoving someone inside. Someone who didn’t belong in The Barn, even on a good day.
The slam of the door behind the prospect restarted Rook’s heart with a bang.
Jesus H. Christ.
Someone just might die tonight. And it wouldn’t be him or Jet.
Rook forced himself not to rush over and rip the hands Scar had on Jet off of her. Especially the hand that was tightly gripping the back of her neck.
Nobody… Nobody put their hand on her neck. That neck belonged to him.
She belonged to him.
Every muscle on his body went as tight as a guitar string and his short fingernails dug into his palms. As difficult as it was to do, he managed to remain where he stood.