“Right, coffee,” he gave in.
The sass went out of her smile and it got sweet as she turned into him and pressed her tits against his arm.
His cock jerked.
There it was, more indication of how things were going to be changing in a really good way now they both knew where they were at.
And Deke had a shit ton of indications that he’d be able to get beyond the fact she was rich as sin and famous to boot.
Christ, she took him hard last night, came through it and it was her that wanted his cum on her. Her eyes wild and hot, watching him jack off on her, her fingernails leaving red crescents in the skin of his thighs, she liked it so fucking much.
Biker bitches who knew how to live and long since lost any hang ups, drunk women who let the booze slide them to the place they needed to be would give that.
And then there was Jussy, sober as a judge, just drunk on him, and asking for it in a way he knew she’d give him anything he wanted. He could come on her again. She’d ride his face. She’d let him tie her up. She’d take his cock up her ass.
She fucked like she lived.
She wasn’t just open and out there and together in life.
She was open and out there and together with sex. She knew what she wanted, asked for it or just went for it and got off on it.
Made for him, yeah.
Shit, yeah.
Straight up, one hundred percent made for him.
So she wanted coffee?
He’d give it to her.
He’d give her fucking anything.
And not just because he got off on her getting off on him jacking on her.
Because she stood in front of a convenience store cashier with her man, holding his hand and buying fifty condoms and she did it blatantly happy she was soon going to get herself fucked and good, but he knew she was more happy because she was standing right there with him, holding his hand.
His gaze dropped to the bruise under her left eye and he finished what he had to say about their imminent trip to La-La Land, “But you better hang outside until I know Sunny’s not there.”
“She’s always there with Shambles. I should have worn sunglasses,” she muttered.
“That’ll be forty-three dollars,” the cashier said.
Deke dug for his wallet, let her go to pull out the bills, gave them to the guy and took the change and the bag filled with what was going to make a day already really fucking good get a whole lot better.
“Thanks. Later,” Deke muttered, using Jussy’s hand to pull her to the door.
“Later,” Jussy said to the cashier as they moved.
“Have fun you two,” the cashier called to their backs.
“We will!” Jussy assured him as he tugged her out the door.
She was practically skipping at his side while they moved down the sidewalk toward La-La Land.
He looked down at her, feeling his lips curving. “Happy?”
Her head tilted back and she gave him another beam, open, out there, not hiding shit.
Fuck yeah, she was happy.
Happy to be with him.
Christ, he wanted that for her every breath she took. Wanted it in a way he knew he’d break his back for it, kill anyone who took it away.
Fuck. He hadn’t felt like that for any woman, except his mother.
And he hadn’t even given his ma the second half of that.
She adjusted her position so the side of her tit glanced against his arm as they walked and she kept smiling as she said quietly, “Yeah, Deke. Happy.”
With a tug on her hand, he stopped them, turned into her and bent to her.
She got what he was offering, lifted up on her toes and he touched his mouth to hers.
Hers was still smiling.
He was pulling away when his phone started ringing.
“I’ll take that,” she said, reaching to the bag so he wouldn’t let her hand go to get the call.
He gave her the bag, dug out his phone, saw it was Decker and took the call.
“Hey, brother, all good?”
“Yes, and maybe yes or also maybe no,” Decker answered, sounding weird.
Deke turned eyes to Jussy. “Right, tell me the yes part.”
“We found our target a couple hours ago, it just wasn’t the primary target.”
Deke felt his brows draw together. “Come again?”
“Place we were told Bianca Constantine was holing up was where she was holing up. It’s also where we found the very dead body of Brendon Caswell.”
Deke lost eye contact with Jussy as he cut his to his boots.
“Right…come again?” he growled.
Jussy moved into his space at the front, her fingers spasming around his, but he kept his gaze lowered, eyes now to her shoulder as Decker spoke.
“Caswell’s dead, man. Shithole apartment building in LA. Women’s clothes left behind, other shit too, nice shit. Designer. Expensive. Cosmetics. Some jewelry, though nothing worth a lot. Still, we found him, called the local authorities and a female detective at the scene says it’s the good stuff. They’re dusting, already ran prints. They got a lot of ’em and some of them are Bianca’s.”