Page 61

“You done or you want to keep playing?” I direct the question to Gaufre but keep a close eye on Desmond and the way he’s sagging in his restraints.

Gaufre shrugs like he hasn’t just flayed open a man’s thighs. “I could keep at it. Got nothing else to do today.”

I nod and retreat a step. “You do what makes you happy. I’m going home to my hummingbird. Hibou send drugs in case you need to revive him?”

“Yeah. Didn’t look too happy when he saw my worktable and this fucker strung up ready to be gutted. I’d watch him if I were you.”

I file that away and stalk to the door, kicking at the steel with the toe of my boot since my hands are fucking useless.

“Teague?” Desmond croaks weakly. “When I get out of here⁠—”

“You’re not leaving, not in one piece, a body bag, though, if there are enough pieces to warrant one.”

“But eye for an eye. I didn’t kill you or the little bitch.”

Is he really trying to negotiate with me? Now? Hanging from a chain with the skin falling off his thighs?

“That rule was for the courts, Des, not individuals. You should have paid closer attention.”

The steel door swings shut behind me, dropping us into a perfect silence that is fucking beautiful.

“You clean up after yourself?” Eddie barks from the depths of Christophe’s office.

I bend my elbows and hold my pristine bandaged hands up in front of me like I’m a surgeon who’s just scrubbed in. “We hire that shit done.”

“Fucking asshole,” he mumbles. “You gonna have Jess there for hours cleaning up after you.”

“Not my problem, man.” I drop my hands and pop my shoulder up. “You finally gonna tap that? That why you’re pissy?”

Eddie grumbles some more about the mess that needs to be cleaned, but I tune him out and stalk down the hallway, erasing the space between Truie and me.

Now that I finally have her, I can’t get enough. Doesn’t matter how bad my hands ache or my back burns, the best balm for my ailments is hummingbird kisses.

And I’m going up to lose myself in her.

Chapter 25

Dirty

TRUIE

I drop to my knees, landing with an oof to the soft ground. Moisture seeps through the knees of my deep berry overalls, chilling my skin and sending a shiver up my spine.

I dig my fingers deep into the rich brown soil and push it to the side.

The warm breeze stills for a moment and as a shadow moves across me, casting me into darkness the calming scent swirls around me.

“Love seeing you dirty and on your knees, hummingbird.”

I rock back, sitting on my heels with my hands folded on top of my thighs. They’re filthy, dirt etched into my skin and packed under my nails from digging in my hummingbird garden. I spent the cold months of winter planning the flowers, the varieties, the ones that have the sweetest nectar and draw the tiny birds in, the ones that nourish them and make them strong. I couldn’t be happier.

I tilt my head back, gazing up, up, up until all I see is the sun streaming through Teague’s hair, haloing the auburn waves in an angelic glow. His face is in shadow. I can’t see his smile, but I know it’s there.

He takes one step closer, then another until the tips of his boots bracket my knees. I shift to the left and forward, my forehead resting on his muscular thigh. And when he drops his warm palm to the back of my head, another shiver trails down my spine.

Teague spent a full month recovering from the damage done to his hands. There wasn’t a lot to keep him occupied and there were times he was more of a caged tiger than a man. The skin on his back healed quickly enough, though the scars that streak the broad planes of muscle rival my own. But there wasn’t a lot that held his attention during the dark days of winter. Other than me.

“You’re home earlier than I thought you’d be.”