Cruz (Dark and Dirty Sinners' MC #5) - Serena Akeroyd Page 0,2
treated me like I was fucking five.
“No, because if he’d thought you were a home invader, he’d have shot you first then registered what was going on second.”
I snorted. “Nyx’d never shoot first. You have met him, haven’t you?”
Cruz’s lips twisted. “Oh, I’ve met him. I’ve also seen him in action whereas you, I don’t think, have.”
“You’d be surprised.” If he was taken aback by that, he didn’t say anything, nor did he ask what I’d seen in particular.
Good thing, too. I wouldn’t have told him the truth anyway.
“You’re a treasure trove full of surprises, aren’t you, Indy?” he mused, his voice soft.
I scowled at him as I reached up again and rubbed my forehead. My hair was clinging to my temples, sticking to my cheeks too. I knew my cami was drenched down my back, and was probably plastered to my front as well. I was just grateful I was wearing a sports bra or he’d be getting a real show.
When had camis stopped being a covering and turned into a flimsy piece of fabric that facilitated a perv ogling someone’s chest, huh?
“I’m no one’s idea of a treasure,” I muttered under my breath.
“No? I think Stone would disagree.” He peered around the place. “I was in here today fitting the TV. It was a mess. And it reeked of sawdust. You did this all on your own?”
“See any Smurfs in the vicinity?” I retorted, sniffing at him. “Cruz, I’m busy. I still have the floor to do and then I can get back home and get some rest.”
His frown deepened, but he surprised me by shrugging, twisting around, and heading out the door as silently as he’d trudged in.
He’d given my lagging energy a kick in the butt though, so that was something. Whenever I thought about how he’d been looking at my tits, standing there as cool and as calm as anything, I’d scrub the floor harder and with more exertion than was technically necessary.
Those goddamn green eyes seemed to see everything. That dark mink hair made Loki’s look blond. I’d bet this month and last month’s rent that it felt like fucking silk against my fingers. And all that ink? He was exactly the kind of guy I tried to avoid.
I had an eye for men that were covered in tats. Especially good ones. I loved his hands too, which was inconvenient because I wanted no man’s hands on me. They were inked black, and negative space was used to create the image of finger bones.
It was creepy, but it spoke of the man.
Everything about his ink did. It was grungy, grimy, dark. But it contrasted with that silky brown hair that belonged to an angel, the eyes that were clear like glass, and the face of a man who would be able to grace the front page of GQ.
Agitation saw me through the rest of the floor, but when I’d finished for real, I was exhausted. Too tired to drive. Too wrecked to even take a shower, which was indicative of how damn tired I was because I showered three times a frickin’ day.
I felt bad, but there was still plastic on the mattress, so I tiptoed over the still-drying floor and plopped onto the bed. In my dirty cami and jeans, boots and all, I slept.
And slept.
And slept.
Only, when I woke up, there was a blanket by my feet that I’d shoved down while I rested, and I knew that was Cruz’s doing because I hated being covered while I slept.
Which meant he’d come back.
And hadn’t tried to hurt me.
Interesting.
Cruz
As I drove off the compound, I saluted Jaxson before I trundled down toward West Orange.
Only Jax and me were awake at this point, even Indy had fallen asleep because I’d checked in on her to make sure she was okay before I left to head to the warehouse district.
With her ride still parked, I’d been concerned. She’d looked a little frazzled. A lot on edge.
She was a puzzle I’d been trying to solve for a few years, ever since she’d come back to West Orange after a long time down in Louisiana.
I hated puzzles.
As much as I loved them.
Most of the mistakes I’d made in my life were thanks to a puzzle I just had to solve. Some of them were complex, some of them were chemical or structural, some of them were scientific, very few of them were human.
Which made her unusual.
I disliked the unusual as much as I disliked puzzles.