Fire & Brimstone (Neighbor from Hell #8) - R.L. Mathewson Page 0,78

down and kissed her stunned lips.

As he pulled away, she tried to form a coherent sentence, but the only thing that came out was the sound of choked rage. She was going to kick his ass!

He shifted his attention from her to their audience and narrowed his eyes on the terrified group. “Don’t you have work to do?” he asked in that cold tone that he was so well known for, managing to break through their shock and had them scurrying away as fast as humanly possibly while she stood there, absolutely amazed that the bastard had finally managed to beat her at her own game.

“Son of a bitch,” she said, shaking her head in awe as she found herself turning around and heading for the backstairs where the large bastard had disappeared thirty seconds after he’d fucked her over.

Chapter 38

“Son of a bitch!” he heard the lovely shout accompanied by the sound of what he assumed was his apartment door slamming shut.

“Wow, she sounds mad,” Melanie said from the next room.

“I can’t imagine why,” he drawled as he stole Rebecca’s pillow and shoved it behind his head, deciding that he might as well be comfortable during his last moments alive.

“What did you do?” the ever nosy woman asked with absolutely no shame, making him chuckle.

“Leveled the playing field,” he said, knowing that his partner in crime would understand.

“She’s going to kill you.”

“Probably,” he said, unconcerned over his impending doom.

“You!” Rebecca said, choking out that one word as she stood in her doorway, glaring at him in a way that told him that his balls might very well be in danger this very night.

“Yes, my love?” he said with a smile, simply to piss the woman off to return the favor.

“You,” she repeated, since that was obviously all she could manage at the moment.

“Is something amiss, my love?” he asked, copying that innocent expression that she’d used on him a hundred times over.

“You had no right,” she finally managed to get out.

“And what exactly didn’t I have a right to do, hmm?”

“You know what you did!” she snapped, quickly losing her temper once again and giving him such joy, because it was rather nice to see the tables turned on her for once.

“I don’t!” their audience yelled.

“The bastard just made sure that everyone downstairs knew that we were sleeping together!” Rebecca snapped with a glare to emphasize her words.

“Oh,” came the reply, which apparently wasn’t the reaction that Rebecca had expected.

“What the hell do you mean by ‘oh?’” she demanded, shifting her glare from him to the wall.

“I think they already knew,” Melanie said, making him frown, because there was no way in hell that anyone outside this little trio and his family knew about them. They’d been careful to keep a professional relationship when they were at work. There was no fucking way that anyone had found out about them.

None.

“Well,” Melanie said, suddenly appearing by Rebecca’s side in the doorway, “I believe they found out about a month ago when Patrick asked Jon to help some of the waitresses take out the trash. They spotted the two of you going at it in the truck like the sick perverts that you are,” she explained with a shrug.

“No freaking way!” Rebecca gasped, giving up on glaring at him to shoot her best friend a pleading look. “Please tell me that you’re kidding.”

“Sorry. Can’t do that,” Melanie said, shooting him a curious look while he sat there, digesting everything that she’d just said.

“And when were you going to tell me?” Rebecca demanded, reaching over to flick Melanie’s arm.

“Ow! What the hell? I just found out about it a few days ago!” Melanie snapped as she rubbed her sore arm.

They knew, had known for a little more than a month now, he realized, which meant…

“There goes your reason for quitting,” he said with a satisfied smile, because it looked like she wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

*-*-*-*

“Do you think that you could ask Mr. Bradford if I could have next weekend off?” Marcy asked instead of helping her fill the salt and peppershakers like she was supposed to be doing.

“Why can’t you ask him yourself?” she asked, pointedly placing an empty saltshaker in front of the woman, who was too busy standing there doing absolutely nothing.

“Figured that I would have a better chance of getting the time off if you asked,” she said with a shrug as she picked up the saltshaker and absently toyed with it instead of filing it up and

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