tried to tune him out. “I just need to know so I can save up my pennies for next time. Or do you charge per sexual act? Do you do special offers? Buy two hand jobs get one free? Can I give the free one to a friend?”
“Shut up, Maverick,” I snarled, failing at ignoring him as he talked continuously in my ear.
“Rogue’s really clocking up the hours, huh? She must owe you a fortune,” he said and I knew he was baiting me but I couldn’t rise to it right now. Shawn could show up at any second and I couldn’t be busy beating Maverick’s head in when he did. “I suppose her pussy is payment enough though. It’s so fucking tight, isn’t it? Do you think we could both fit inside her at the same time?”
“Maverick,” I snapped in as quiet a voice as I could manage. “If you don’t shut your mouth, I’ll shut it permanently.”
“Like with a needle and thread? That’d take some time. Shawn might show up by then, and you wouldn’t wanna be distracted.” He chuckled and my hand tightened on my gun.
“If I’m distracted and Shawn manages to get past us because of it, that’s on you. And Rogue is at the clubhouse, so if you care about her at all then stop talking,” I demanded and he fell quiet. At least he did for two seconds, then he started talking again.
“I just need a date and time for the next fuck fest, I have a busy schedule so you might wanna book me in,” he whispered.
I said nothing so he took out my phone and started adding his contact information under the name Tyrannosaurus Cock. Then he flicked the camera on, wrapped an arm around my shoulders and tugged up his ski mask as he snapped a photo of us using the night vision. I lunged for the phone, but he held it away as he sent the photo to Fox with the caption Me and Rick are getting frisky in the woods. Wanna join? P.S. Bring the unicorn.
He passed my phone back to me and I sighed as it started blowing up with anxious messages from Fox. I sent him one back to say I had the situation under control then pocketed it, figuring there was nothing more I could do to calm him down right now. Fox hadn’t spoken about Maverick since we’d all worked to dig at The Dollhouse wreckage for day after day, hunting for Chase. Eventually, the police had forced us to leave and Maverick had looked as broken as I felt about that before getting on his motorbike and driving away. Fox and I had loaded Chase’s bike into his truck and driven it home; it had felt like carrying a coffin back to the house and I couldn’t bear seeing it every time I went down to the garage, but I hadn’t covered it up. The pain was a reminder of him, and I didn’t wanna forget him, so I just let it hurt.
Silence fell at last and we waited there in the dark as an owl hooted somewhere out in the trees and I listened intently for sounds of an approaching car.
“Would you rather be a dog with no legs or a bird with no wings?” Maverick whispered and it caught me so off guard I almost cracked a smile. But not quite.
I forced my lips to remain flat and didn’t answer, so he elbowed me and for a moment I was reminded of playing this game with him when we were kids. It was a favourite of all of ours and we’d try to come up with the most ludicrous ‘would you rather’ questions that we could to make each other laugh. I’d often played it with Chase whenever we’d been out on a job together and the memories of that had my heart tugging sharp enough to make it bleed.
“A bird with no wings,” I murmured. “A legless dog can’t go anywhere.”
“It can if you throw it hard enough,” he whispered and my head snapped around at those words as a surprised laugh escaped me.
He didn’t look at me, but I could see the smirk in his eyes. It was something of a catchphrase for us when playing this game, and whenever one of us had the chance to say it we’d always cracked up like it was the funniest thing in the world.
“Your turn,” he muttered and I wondered why he