Despicable by Rory Miles

BELLATRIX

The guys are gone for a lot longer than we expect, so I keep Creed busy by suggesting we make lunch for them. I don’t know if any of us will actually be able to eat given what we witnessed this morning, but at least it keeps our minds occupied. We end up making chicken parmesan, because they had all the necessary ingredients and making a good sauce and fried filet takes time.

We’re finishing cooking the chicken when Dax and Ronan crash through the front door covered in dirt. I drop the spatula and rush to them, checking them both over. They’re not hurt, but they stink and their shoes and clothes are ruined.

“What happened?” I ask, eyes straying back to Creed.

The poor guy is staring at their shoes, clenching his jaw so tight I’m worried his teeth will crack. “They didn’t care, did they?”

I furrow my brow and glance at Dax, hoping he’ll clue me in as to what he means.

“No,” Dax answers. “Dean said an investigator will come in a few days.”

Creed scoffs. “Sure they will.”

I look between the men, piecing it together without them needing to say it out loud. They’re covered in dirt. No one came to investigate, which means no one took the body.

Shit.

“You had to bury the body.”

Dax gives me a sharp nod.

“Fuck.” I run my hands through my hair, but my fingers get stuck in the knots Creed put there last night, so it’s no use. “Why don’t you go clean up. Lunch is almost ready.”

“I’m not—”

“Shower. Clean clothes. Get back down here. Understood?” I give Ronan a stern look, daring him to try and argue again.

“Yeah, okay.” He ducks his head and leaves the room.

Dax lingers a second, going to Creed and speaking to him in a quiet voice. There’s something tender about the way Dax holds his elbow, and I feel like I’m intruding on a private moment. I escape to the bathroom down here to give them a minute, taking advantage of the time and fixing my hair and splashing cool water on my face.

By the time I get back to the kitchen, Creed is the only one there. I meet him at the counter and help spread marinara on the cooked chicken. He puts some parmesan on top, not the fancy kind from the deli, the old school green bottle shaker kind, and he puts the pan in the oven. Since there is limited energy, we set the heat high.

Surprisingly, my stomach grumbles when the timer goes off five minutes later. Creed gives me a little smile and grabs hot pads out of a drawer. The cheese is a glorious blanket of melted goodness on top of the marinara sauce covering the chicken.

“Man, that smells good.” Ronan comes in with a towel wrapped around his waist and his hair hanging in loose, wet waves. A few droplets of water skate over his abs and I think I see a hint of a tattoo creeping out of the edge of the towel.

“Oh my god,” I say without thinking.

“Trix,” Ronan says with a sigh. “I’ve told you to call me Ronan.”

“Shut up.” Creed throws a hot pad at his head. “Go put some clothes on, you big bastard.”

Ronan flexes, showing off biceps that have to be bigger than my thighs.

“Clothes! Now!” Creed launches another hot pad at him.

“Fine. Don’t eat all the food though.” Ronan throws the hot pad back at Creed who barely dodges it. “Fucker.”

Shaking my head, I raise my eyebrows at Creed once Ronan heads up the stairs.

“You live with him.”

He grimaces. “I know.”

We share a look, communicating everything without words, because we can’t talk about it with the guys in the house. Creed has been surrounded by Mr. Beefcake and the silver fox this entire time while hiding that he’s bisexual? He’s stronger than I am because I definitely would have tried to make Ronan mine, at least for a few nights, if I were in his place.

“What’s with the looks?” Dax asks, entering the kitchen and bringing the soapy scent of fresh rain with him. He’s wearing a black t-shirt and jeans, and the scruff covering his jaw should look sloppy, but something about three-day-old beard growth is so perfect on him.

“Nothing,” I chirp, grabbing plates from the cabinet and setting them on the counter.

Creed grabs the pasta from the strainer and portions it out. The food isn’t gourmet, but it’ll be delicious. Besides, a little bit of that green shaker parmesan on top will fix it right up.

Who needs fancy shaved cheese?

* * *

After lunch,Dax and Ronan clean the kitchen while Creed and I watch from the barstools. When they finish, we all stare at each other, not quite sure what to say to lighten the mood. Murder is a pretty heavy topic, and we’ll have to address it eventually, but for now, I think these guys need to loosen up.

“Do you have alcohol?”

“If you looked in the fridge while you were cooking, you know we do.” Dax gives me the side-eye. “Why?”

“What else are we going to do?” I give him a smile, which in all honesty is probably more salty than sweet, and bat my eyelashes.

“Don’t make that face,” he says, narrowing his gaze. “I forgot how manipulative women could be.”

“I’m not manipulative, just using what I was born with.”

“Manipulative tendencies?” He smirks.

“Good looks and a pretty smile.” I wink at him and hop off the barstool. “Come on, let’s drink a little?”

He shoots his gaze over my head, checking in with Creed. “Someone has to stay sober. There’s still a killer out there.”

“Solid point.” I wrinkle my nose. “Maybe a beer each?”

Sighing, he nods and juts his chin toward the fridge. “One apiece.”

“Deal,” I blurt before he can finish the last word.

Ronan meets me at the fridge, grabbing the door before I can and swinging it open. He hands me a beer, some average domestic kind, and tosses Creed and Dax theirs before grabbing his own. I crack mine, humming in appreciation when the cool lager hits my tongue.

It’s no craft beer, but it still hits the spot.

Dax sips his, watching me as I head over to sit next to Creed again. His eyes are knowing, but I’m not embarrassed by what happened between us. I had a lot of fun, and so did Creed. I don’t know Dax well enough, but I think I see a tiny flash of envy in his gaze when Creed grins at me and we bump our cans together like we actually have something to celebrate.

“You guys aren’t worried about the shops?”

“They’ll be okay for a little while,” Ronan says, rubbing his lips against the rim of the can. “Mostly people keep to themselves. George was really the one we had to worry about taking more than his fair share… but now he’s dead.”

And just like that the mood is dreary again.

“What are the others like?” I ask to distract them. “As weird as Dax and Creep here?”

Creed scoffs and gives me a slow once-over. “You didn’t think I was weird last night.”

Biting my lip, I wink at him. “You were pretty all right.”

“Is that why you screamed my name?”

“You’re ridiculous.” I laugh and take a drink, checking to see how the other two are taking the news.

Ronan tips his head to the side, lost in thought, but Dax is staring at me with less than subtle desire flaring across his features.

“The other guys here are introverted and pretty much avoid us unless they have to come to the shops. Harlow is, well, a handful.” Creed shakes his head.

“Tell me more about that.” I rest my elbow on the counter and drop my chin on my hand, studying Dax while he processes my sleeping with Creed.

I don’t think he’s mad about it. I’m pretty sure he’s trying to figure out how he can accomplish the same thing, and I’m definitely not opposed to a little silver fox loving. I ignore the little voice in my head that tells me I can’t fuck my emotions away because that voice is clearly deluded. Good sex can fix just about anything.

“Harlow punched Ronan.”

I swing my gaze to the burly man, eyes widening in disbelief. “How’d she get one in on you?”

“She’s fast,” he says, shrugging his shoulders. “And she was pissed because I wouldn’t let her take an extra box of earl grey tea.”

“She didn’t want to follow the rules.” Dax comes to my other side, scooting the barstool a little closer before sitting down. Our thighs brush, and I pointedly ignore the flutter in my lower stomach.

“It’s the principle of the matter.” Ronan rolls his head back, trying to work the tension from his neck. “No one else gets to take extra, so why should she?”

“So, no one else drinks tea but her?”

Creed nods. “She’s the only one.”

Maybe that’s what’s wrong with her. Too much snobby leaf water makes her grumpy.

“Tell me why you’re rationing tea when it clearly doesn’t matter to anyone else?”

Ronan shoots his gaze to Dax, who sighs and takes another sip of his beer.

“Because, there are rules.”

So strict, he is.

“Do they have to be so rigid?” I turn slightly so I can watch his reaction when I drop my hand onto his thigh.

His nostrils flare a little, and his muscles tense under my fingers, but he doesn’t push me away.

Called it. Silver Fox wants some.

“For the sake of peace, I think it’s best to stick to the plan. Otherwise people will get mad when we won’t let them take more than their share.”

I move my hand slightly up his leg, watching as his eyes drop to my hand, and he clenches his teeth together.

“Sometimes it’s fun to break the rules.”

Creed laughs into his beer, and I picture him shaking his head at me, but I refuse to look away from Dax because he slowly lifts his hooded gaze to meet mine, and what I see there calls to my inner promiscuous bitch. Moons, do I love her.

He puts his hand on top of mine, stopping it before I can get too far and gives me a stern, fatherly look. I’m sure he means to deter me, but if anything, it makes me all the more determined.

“I should go make sure the shops are okay.” He lifts my hand, holding on to it as he stands, gripping my fingers for a smidge longer than necessary. “Be nice to my friends.”

“Creep and I are tight now. I think I still have to win Ronan over, but something tells me once I kick his ass at poker he’ll be a goner too.”

“That easy, huh?” Dax says, standing over me.

I tip my head back and chuckle. “They’re always easy.”

His husky laugh makes my spine tingle, and he lowers his face, stopping mere inches from me. “I like to be chased.”

“Is that a request?”

“It’s a fact.”

“Okay, Old Man. I hear you.”

His lips brush over my cheek when he moves to whisper in my ear. “I’m fast, baby girl. Can you keep up?”

Oh. My. Rejected. Mates. Who the hell let this man go? His game is on fire.

“Don’t worry about me,” I say, fisting his shirt in my hands. “I’m a grown woman.”

“I’m counting on it,” he says, then draws back, eyes skating to Creed who is sitting quietly behind me.

I don’t look away from Dax, but I can feel Creed and Ronan staring at me. When he looks at me again, Dax grips my chin between his thumb and forefinger. My body flushes under their collective attention, and all kinds of scenarios of the three of us together flash through my mind.

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” he says before stepping away and leaving me with a strange sense of loss.

“Me too,” I mutter, turning back to my beer while he leaves.

Ronan comes to the counter, putting his hands on the bar and leaning forward, pinning me with a serious look.

“I’m good at poker.”

“I’ve only played a little,” I lie. “Go easy on me?”

He tsks and shakes his head. “You wanted the pain, and I do hate to disappoint. Get your ass in the chair.” He points to the desks behind us, and with a demand like that, how can I not comply?

Anything to keep their minds off the murder for a little while longer.