Despicable by Rory Miles
RONAN
Thunder rolls over the island about the time Creed bursts in the house and storms into the kitchen. Glancing over at him from my table in the dining room, I set the card down where I’d intended then lean back in my chair, pausing my game of solitaire.
“Why do you look pissed?” I ask, scanning his pinched face.
“I’m not.” He grabs a towel from the kitchen counter and scrubs it over his short blond hair.
“Right,” I drawl, tapping my fingers on the arms of the leather computer chair.
The room used to have a fancy twelve-seater table, but the guys and I decided it was a bit stuffy for our taste, so instead we pilfered some computer desks and killer ergonomic chairs from the other rooms. Whoever lived here before Wolfsbane became a home for rejects really cared about their lumbar support.
“We have a new person.”
Ah. That sort of explains the scowl.
“And?” I hedge, waiting for him to tell me everything about his interaction with the person. Something tells me it didn’t go well, either the newcomer is a jerk or a woman.
“She broke a guard’s nose.”
A woman, that explains it. Creed has been here the longest, around four years, and he’s sexually frustrated to say the least. The only other woman on the island is Harlow, but she’d be more likely to castrate us before taking any of us to bed, so it’s fair to say our grip strength has gotten really strong and our wrists can work overtime.
“What did the guard do?”
His lips twitch. “The other one tased her.”
“Of course he did. Sounds like quite the afternoon. Was she nice?” I scoot my chair back and go to the kitchen to grab a beer from the fridge. We lucked out with alcohol because this house had two beer coolers in the garage packed full of the cheap stuff. We use it sparingly, when the occasion calls for it, and I’d say this is one of those times.
“Want one?”
Creed shakes his head, so I shrug and screw the cap off and take a swig. “Was she nice?” I ask again, raising an eyebrow when he twists his mouth to the side.
“I didn’t stay to find out.”
“Damn, man. That’s cold.” I scratch my short beard, watching him work through his own frustration. “Even I wouldn’t do that and you always tell me I’m an asshole.”
“That’s because you are an asshole,” he says, hopping onto the counter and sitting. “We don’t know anything about her.”
Glancing at the clock on the stove, I notice the time. Dax will be home in an hour from his shift guarding the store, and then it’ll be my turn. The main island makes supply drops once a month and since there are no official police in Wolfsbane, the guys and I have taken up guarding things so no one gets any funny ideas about being in control.
I realize us guarding the food sounds like we might be trying to harness the power, but we don’t deny anyone the things they want. We simply keep an eye on what is brought in, what’s taken, and ensure no one hoards the supplies. We all need food. Wolfsbane used to be inhabited by ritzy shifters with ridiculous amounts of money and a somewhat surprising desire to use solar panels. Almost every house has them on the roof, and it keeps the electricity running. Granted, we have to use it more sparingly in the colder months, but it’s a hell of a lot better than it could be.
Before I ended up here, I heard rumors of islands with no infrastructure at all.
Shit luck for those rejects.
“We know she was hurt.” I point my beer at him. “She didn’t kill George. And her name?”
He shakes his head. “Didn’t hear it.” Ripping off his damp top, he tosses it on the floor.
Staring at it for a beat, I wait for him to realize he’s screwed up before freaking out. There are some things about living with other guys that drive me crazy. The general disregard for how messy they are is probably my biggest pet peeve.
“Chill, Ronan. I’ll pick it up in a second.” He groans and scrubs his face. “We don’t even know who killed George.”
“True, but there will be an investigation.”
“Don’t hold your breath,” Creed mutters.
He jumps off the counter, bends to grab his shirt, and shoots me a serious look.
“That woman is going to be trouble. We should stay away from her.”
“Should we?” I ask with a smile, aiming to piss him off. It works like a charm because he flips me off before storming out of the room and to the bathroom in the hall.
He slams the door shut like a petulant child, and I sigh and take another drink.
“Five minutes!” I shout, reminding him of the time limit on the hot water. We may have unlimited water, but the electric water heater uses a ton of our solar energy. Usually, we take cold showers, but Creed is soaked from the rain and probably cold.
The old pumping station is another responsibility we’ve taken on in our quest to make this place a home. Dax had to teach us a few things about maintenance, and we still need his help if something goes wrong, but at least we’re learning.
Going back to my game of solitaire, I stare at the rows of cards, but I can’t seem to focus on where to place the next one. All I can think about is the woman crazy enough to punch a guard in the face.
Trouble indeed.