Page 50

“But you don’t,” she stated.

“No. I think you are more trustworthy than anyone here,” I responded.

I couldn’t quite read the expression she gave me, but it made my heart beat faster. I knew she was trustworthy. Because at her core, Ryan was filled with good intentions. And I was all too aware that good intentions were often achieved with sins.

I placed a chaste kiss on her lips before walking to my dresser to find shirts for both of us. I’d thought it was idiotic when men talked about loving women in their shirts, but now I got it. The thought of Ryan walking around wearing my shirt, covered in my scent…I would be rocking a hard-on the whole meeting.

“McGregor? What does that represent?” Her voice cut through my thoughts, and I stilled as her fingertips traced the tattoo on my tricep.

Closing my eyes, I attempted to shut out the memories the old tattoo brought. I should’ve covered it up entirely but could never bring myself to do that. So I had it worked in as an attempt to keep it hidden from sight. Of course Ryan’s perceptive eyes would find the cursive lettering camouflaged in the other artwork.

I swallowed, desperate to get moisture back in my throat. “It’s the name of someone I once knew. From an old life,” I responded, yanking a shirt over my head to hide the ink and end the line of questioning.

Ryan stared at me with a look of understanding and acceptance. Making my heart ache even more. We both had scars and stories better left unsaid. I wondered if she would still feel the same way about me if she could see all the skeletons in my closet. A chill ran down my spine at the thought that she someday might. But I couldn’t afford to go down that rabbit hole at the moment.

A knock at the door broke the moment.

“Freshly fucked friends, open up the door. I come bearing gifts for the good-looking one,” Dex yelled from the hallway.

Ryan arched an eyebrow and looked over at me. “I’m not entirely sure if he’s talking about you or me.”

Before I could answer, the asshole strode in.

“What the hell, Dex? What if we were naked?” I yelled.

“That’s honestly what I was hoping for,” he answered, wiggling his eyebrows.

A growl escaped my lips. The thought of him seeing Ryan naked pissed me off. Dex’s smile widened. The asshole knew exactly what he was doing. He winked at me as he placed a pair of black leggings and a sports bra in Ryan’s arms.

“What, no shirt?” Ryan asked, inspecting the stack.

“Caveman over there insists you wear his shirt so he can parade you in front of the other assholes and claim you. Basically, the modern version of pissing on you.” He paused his insane speech and dropped his voice to a whisper yell. “Unless you have a thing for being peed on. Is that why y’all were in the shower so long?” Dex asked.

Ryan’s mouth opened and closed a few times before words finally came out.

“No, I’m not into Gunner peeing on me,” she shrieked. “Dex, you’re lucky I’m not hiding a knife in this towel because I would stab you in the forearm.”

My crazy brother shrugged his shoulders like this was the most natural conversation. “Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it, chica,” he sing-songed.

Ryan’s head snapped to me, her eyes wide as saucers. Laughter erupted from my chest because the woman didn’t bat an eye at a knife fight, but Dex had put her in a stunned state.

“Oh, you haven’t been around long enough to know; that’s on the milder side of shit Dex says about sex. He once told me an Aussie girl asked him to pretend to be a magpie and ‘Dive bomb her pussy.’” I used finger quotes around the phrase because I still didn’t know what the fuck that meant.

“The worst part of that story was that it wasn’t a one-time hookup,” I added.

“I have so many questions, but I’m afraid of the answers. So I’ll go change now and try to erase all the mental images I’m currently experiencing,” Ryan responded.

Dex’s smirk fell the moment Ryan closed the bathroom door. It was scary how he could switch; he and Ryan had that in common.

“Well, the whole no fucking her plan is out the window. Do you know what you’re doing here, brother?” he questioned.

My fists clenched and unclenched at my sides. I was sure I was leaving indents in my palms. I didn’t like this line of questioning because the truth was that I had no answers.

“Don’t worry; the job will get done.” My tone was clipped as I responded.

Dex’s gaze felt like it was peeling away at my skin, searching for my soul. But I was beginning to think my soul was in the hands of another, which was a danger to our plans.

“I’m sure the job will get done, but are you going to be able to do it now?”