Pike (The Pawn Duet #1) - T.M. Frazier Page 0,60

to clear my imagination of her doing the very same thing to my cock.

I clear my throat, and Mickey looks up. She doesn’t seem to notice my discomfort. She’s looking elsewhere. I follow her attentions to front window where, outside, a couple who are obviously tourists with their hats and cameras are walking on the sidewalk, hand in hand with three little girls of varying heights.

I watch her expression turn from longing to something much deeper and sadder as her eyes glass over.

“This. This wasn’t a good idea.” She says suddenly, pushing back her stool. It drops to the floor. She jumps over it and races out the back door.

“Mic,” I yell, but she doesn’t stop. I follow her only to be cut off by Gregory, one of the biggest and most annoying bikers I know. “You got a way with the ladies, eh, Pike?” He slaps my shoulder, and my entire body tenses. I flex my fingers, itching to break his fucking nose. “She’s a pretty one. You tell her that I’ll do right by her if she’s done with you, and I promise she won’t be running from—”

I see nothing but red as my fist connects with Gregory’s face, knocking him into a table. The legs break, and the people sitting around it scatter as he falls along with the tabletop to the floor.

Stepping around the mess, I head for the back door.

“Usual cost for the table, Pike,” Sally calls out from behind the bar.

“I’ll send Thorne over,” I reply. In the alley the door to the pawn shop slams and this time when I’m stopped it’s not by Gregory, but by a sea of dirty mewing cats I have to step through like a furry obstacle course. “She’s been here for a hot minute, and you guys take her fucking side,” I mutter.

A fat black one hisses at me from the top of an overturned crate.

“Fuck you, too, asshole,” I respond, giving it a middle finger.

It turns and lifts its tail, making a big production of showing me it’s actual asshole. Traitors. This is my fucking alley. Not hers.

“Pike!” Thorne shouts, stepping out into the alley.

“Call an exterminator,” I tell her, pointing to the cats who are now all seated and watching us quietly like we’re preforming some sort of play for an army of eerie fucking cats all being puppeteered by the same master. “Why does anyone like these motherfuckers?”

“An exterminator?” She scrunches her nose. “For cats?”

“Or the humane society or that sketchy restaurant by the gas station. Anyone whose interested in getting rid of the fuckers.”

“Harsh,” she replies, closing the door as I push past her and head for the stairs. “I need to talk to you. And not about your odd if not emasculating issue with innocent alley cats.”

“Not now, Thorne.” I push past her and head for the stairs to find Mickey. “Got shit to take care of. Sally’s got a bill for you. Take care of it. Four chairs and a table.”

“Another one?” she huffs. “I’ll take care of it, but you have to listen to me right now.”

I ignore her, almost to the top of the stairs.

“Mickey’s fine. She’s up in the apartment. I’ll check on her in a minute, but I have to talk to you. Whatever caveman reason you have to follow her up there can wait. This is more important.” There’s an unease in her voice, a nervousness I’m not used to hearing, at least not from her.” She stomps her foot on the ground. “Pike! Stop and fucking listen to me, you big stubborn son of a bitch!”

I pause on the landing. Thorne doesn’t raise her voice to me. Ever. Irritation along with concern over her sudden outburst has me turning around. I growl and thud my way down, the sound of my heavy steps echoing in the narrow stairwell.

She doesn’t wait for me to reach the bottom before launching into the reason behind her outburst, besides me being an asshole as usual. “It’s the hurricane,” she starts. She chews on the side of her thumbnail, the other forearm wrapped around her waist, clutching at the fabric of her shirt. “It’s coming to Logan’s Beach. They’re talking about a direct hit on the news.”

I shrug. “We’ve been through hurricanes before. We’ll handle it.”

She shakes her head. “Not like this one. It’s bigger and faster than they thought. It’ll be here…”

The lights flicker like an ominous kick to the balls. “Soon,” she finishes, as the lights buzz back