Crave (The Gibson Boys 3)

“All right. You sign this addendum and we—”

“We ain’t signing shit.” I stalk across the room. My breathing is eerily calm; my eyes narrowed on the dick in the suit.

I need to stay calm. I know that. I need to let this arrogant bastard get his rocks off however he does it and not fuck up my plans. But the longer his words echo in my brain, the lesser my grip on logic becomes.

“Don’t get testy.” He laughs. “And don’t let a girl like Hadley get to you like this, Machlan. Women always ruin a good man.”

“You think she ruins me?” I shake my head, the words getting jumbled in my mind. It’s almost a plea because something in his eyes, something right under the surface, tells me he’s going to press. And if he presses like I think he’s going to, it won’t end well. “You don’t know jack shit.”

“I know enough to know I was going to turn your offer down, but the fact that she knew you made me more comfortable. But seeing you now, all hyped up over her, makes me rethink your abilities.”

“This isn’t me hyped. I’ll assure you of that,” I say. “And what I do when people like you talk about her has nothing to do with the contract.”

He twirls his glasses in the air. “I disagree. If you get wound up so easily by me, how do you think you’ll survive a room full of teenagers?”

“Because they aren’t assholes.”

He drops his glasses; his thin lips pressed together. The wheels are turning in his peon brain. I’ve seen it a hundred times. I’m usually really good at ignoring it when a pussified motherfucker thinks they’ve found your weakness and chooses to push. Today might be different.

“Tell you what,” he says, his eyes twinkling. “I don’t really want to lose this sale. As you said, I’ll make more money off you than I would if I sold it outright. So, have your attorney look over the addendum, and if it’s manageable, it’s a deal. I’ll even knock off five thousand if you tell me how tight Hadley is.” He snickers, picking up his pen. “She probably has a sweet little cunt, doesn’t she?”

“You motherfucker,” I growl, my pulse hitting me so hard I can barely hear his cackle. “I’m gonna fucking kill you, you bastard.”

He grabs his phone and presses a few keys as I stalk around the corner of the table. I could hit him with one hand and end his fucking day, but I want to enjoy this one. I want him to feel every word he just spit at me. I want him to taste the blood on his lips. To remember it the next time he tries to open his mouth.

The table legs scratch across the floor as he shoves it around, trying to keep it between us.

“Look at you running like you were just running your mouth,” I say, my voice eerily calm.

I step right. So does he. I step forward. He steps back.

I laugh. “You do know how bad this is gonna hurt, right?”

“Let’s calm down,” he says, his voice trembling.

“Nah, you wanted this. Cause and effect, bitch.”

It’s only going to take one shot to knock him out, and that won’t feel nearly as good as seeing the fear in his eyes does.

Spencer looks over my shoulder, then back at me. “I hope Hadley is smart enough to stay away from you. It makes me sad for her that she’s gotten caught up with trash like you.”

Adrenaline rockets through me as I charge around the table. Spencer runs toward the back of the room.

The door swings open behind me. I glance over my shoulder before pursuing Spencer.

“What’s going on here?” Kip asks, taking off his sheriff’s hat. “We had a 911 call.”

I stop in my tracks; my teeth still pressed together so hard it hurts.

“Machlan?” he asks. My cousin raises his brows. “What’s going on?”

“Not a damn thing,” I say. “Just teaching this pudfuck some manners.”

Kip motions for me to come toward him. “Come here.”

“Give me five minutes. Nah, two,” I beg. “Just walk out of here for two minutes.”

Kip doesn’t blink. “You don’t want an assault charge. You’ll lose your license for the bar. Now come here before you lose everything you have.”

Looking over my shoulder at Spencer, I point a finger his way. “You have one coming.”

“That’s a threat,” Spencer says. “Did you hear that, Sheriff?”

Clenching my hands at my sides, my nostrils flaring as I try to rein in my fury, I head toward Kip.

“Did you hear that?” Spencer shouts again. “That’s clearly a threat.”

“I didn’t hear anything. Go get in your truck,” he says under his breath. “And go home. Got it?”

“Our contract is void,” Spencer shouts from the other side of the room.

I whirl around. “You think?”