Tap Out (Reaper's Den Book One) - Nikki Mays Page 0,34

two women walking towards us. Both of whom look like they would prefer to be doing anything else.

I try for a small smile. “Hey Stace, hey Kealy, how’s it going?” I can do the whole casual talking to the woman that I want more than my next breath. Next to me Edge is a statue, if I couldn’t see his massive chest moving with each breath I would think that he was dead.

Stacey bites her lip while looking between Edge and myself. “Hi.”

She keeps eyeing Edge suspiciously. I nod my head in his direction. “This is my buddy Edge. He owns the tattoo shop in town.”

Recognition lights her eyes before they go squinty and she crosses her arms over her chest. “You were the one who called me and asked me to check on Danny because his wound didn’t look good.” She drawls through her pursed plump lips.

He gives her a charming smile that I want to knock off of his face. “Just wanted to make sure that my buddy was well taken care of. I’m a good friend like that.”

“Uh-huh.” Not in the least bit phased by his smile. I won’t lie, that makes me extremely happy, I just will never admit that out loud. “I bet you are.”

“I’m the best friend that a guy can have.” He tells her, making me chuckle. He looks over at me in fake indignation. “What? Are you saying that I’m not?”

I raise my good arm in surrender. “Nope, you are definitely a great friend to have.”

“Especially since I’ll be bailing your ass out of jail.”

Both women look at me with a frown but it’s Stacey who asks. “Why would he need to bail you out of jail? What did you do?” Her eyes sharp like a fierce lioness.

“Nothing.” I lift my good hand to my mouth in a fist. “Yet.” I cough. “So, what brings you ladies in here today?” I try to direct the conversation away from my possible jail time making Edge chuckle, the fucker.

“Oh, umm, well Kealy,” who looks about two seconds away from hightailing it out of here. “She was wondering if she could sign up for some self-defense lessons and I’m here for moral support I guess.” She says sheepishly.

One of the young trainers here, Jim, happens to be walking by and overhears her. “I’d be more than happy to help you ladies with that.”

“NO!” Edge and I bark at the same time making the other three jump in surprise.

“Don’t worry Jimmy,” Does he hate that nickname? Possibly. Am I an asshole for using? Definitely. But fuck him and his beady ass eyes right now. “Edge and I will handle this. Why don’t you go find someone else to help.” My tone and the death stare that I’m giving him leave no room for argument.

He holds up both of his hands while walking backwards. “You got it Reaper.”

Stacey gives me a look that I can’t completely identify. “Since when does Edge work here?” She asks sweetly, too sweetly.

“He doesn’t.” I reply truthfully.

She taps her index finger against her bubblegum pink lips. “Hmm, then why would he be helping you handle this?” You bet your ass she uses finger quotes for those last two words. Damn I’ve missed how feisty she is at times. “And more importantly, if he doesn’t work here, why would he want to waste his time?”

I’m like a deer in headlights, no reasonable explanation coming to mind that wouldn’t give away my friend’s infatuation we’ll call it. Luckily Edge answers before I can start sputtering out stupid shit.

“It’s never a waste of time helping a woman be able to protect herself. There are a lot of sick bastards in this world. Weak men always like to prey on those that they believe to be weaker than they are. I have no problem making sure that a woman isn’t weak and can kick his stupid ass into the ICU.”

We just stand here staring at him. Looks can really be deceiving at times. Looking at Edge you wouldn’t realize right away that he’s a great guy who is also highly intelligent. Most people take one look in his direction and make sure that their paths don’t cross. Funny thing is, he’d be the first one to help a person in need. But you would never realize that by just looking at him. All most people see are his tattoos, height, muscle, dark looks, and the vest or cut as he calls it for his motorcycle club

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