The Deputy and His Enforcer (Kincaid Pack #3) - Kiki Clark Page 0,10

I got a bad vibe from him.”

A throat clearing in the kitchen doorway had Robson sitting up and looking around quickly. Patrick stood awkwardly just in the room, two empty glasses in his hands. “Sorry to interrupt,” he said roughly, then headed for the large punch bowl on the kitchen counter.

Robson watched him with narrowed eyes until Hector kicked him under the table, causing him to jerk back and knock his knee into the underside. “Son of a bitch.”

Finished with the glasses, Patrick gave them a tight smile, then left the room.

Hector shot a glare at Robson and got to his feet, going to the doorway and peeking into the other room before coming back to the table. “Yeah, the guy who just refilled our mom’s and sister’s glasses and is now rubbing Reesa’s feet is a hardened criminal alright.”

“Anyone can pretend to be nice,” Robson muttered, but there was no heat behind his words. So accusing Patrick of being involved in something illegal might have been a stretch, but it wasn’t like he’d heard Robson whispering to Hector from across the room.

“Yeah, except you apparently.” Hector went back to making his half of the leafy jars.

“Cabrón,” Robson said, chuckling and throwing a bit of hard glue at Hector’s head, hitting his temple.

“Gilipollas.”

They both went back to working silently, but Robson’s mind was still turning over all the information he’d learned from his short conversation with Marcus Rivera. He shivered when he remembered how cornered he’d felt in the office with Marcus blocking the door, like he was prey to Marcus’s predator.

Which was hilarious.

Marcus might have been taller, but Robson would put his money on his training and muscles any day. In comparison, Marcus looked like a weed.

He had learned something valuable about the other man in that room though. While Marcus had remarkable control over his face and body, giving away very little information about his thoughts or feelings, his eyes were a different story. Robson had thought they were light green, but when he had accused Marcus and his friends of covering up a murder, they’d darkened so quickly it had been a little startling.

Still waters ran deep indeed.

The part of his brain that had teased and tormented his siblings for their entire childhood wanted to poke and prod at Marcus until he broke his control and got a real reaction. With that red hair and those expressive eyes, Robson bet it would be a beautiful fucking sight.

Wait… what?

His hands froze on a half-finished jar and his glue gun. Where the fuck had that thought come from? Rivera was no doubt part of a criminal organization that had threatened his sister! Robson couldn’t be… attracted to him.

Right?

“Fuck,” he groaned, head hanging. His dick always had gotten him into trouble, so why would now be any different?

“What’s wrong with you?” Hector asked, eyes not leaving the jar he was carefully applying glue to.

“Nothing. Let’s just… Let’s change the subject.”

“Okay.” Hector dragged the word out and side-eyed Robson. “How’s the job going? You still hate it?”

His hands tightened involuntarily at the question, hot glue oozing out of his gun and hitting the newspaper their mom had insisted on putting down before they started working. “I don’t… hate it. I just don’t necessarily enjoy it. Which is fine. Not everyone loves their job. As long as it pays the bills, that’s all that matters.”

Of course, he’d had to take a little money out of his savings the day before because his check had been so pitiful. He’d cashed his check and drawn out the extra before giving his mom the cash like he always did so she was none the wiser. Luckily. She always thanked him and called him her sweet boy when he gave her the money, but he knew she’d scold him in a second if she found out he was using his savings on the bills.

“You served your country for over a decade,” Hector was saying, carefully not looking at Robson as he spoke. “You shouldn’t have to be unhappy with your job and your life because you’re the oldest. Shannon and I were talking, and we’d like to help more.”

Robson stared at the side of Hector’s face. “No.”

Hector sighed and set his things down, turning to face Robson fully. “You don’t get to just say no, Robito. You aren’t Dad. It’s not your job to take care of everything and everyone. Mom wouldn’t want—”

“Stop.” Robson’s voice was hard. He pointed at Hector as he whispered harshly, “We’re