Derk wheeled around to the territory manager. "Get lost," he quietly growled. "If I see you fucking near either one of them again, I'll personally slit your throat while you're sleeping."
The man grew upright, only taking him to five feet ten inches. "How dare‒"
"Find another fucking time to talk business." Derk pegged him with his forefinger. "Get the fuck gone."
"Problem, Derk?" Jack asked, appearing next to him, his tone threatening.
"Yeah, your buddy here doesn't understand to leave the Murphys be while Mrs. M grieves the loss of her father," Derk said. "I have an issue with that."
"Let's talk," Jack said, tossing an arm around the man and escorting him outside.
That little display went unnoticed by most at the funeral home. They were all used to little scuttles here and there. Nothing truly fazed these men and women.
Spinning around, he found Courtney and Derrick eying him closely.
"Thank you," Courtney mouthed to him.
For a fleeting moment, he felt himself melt for her appreciation. Aaannnd then he came to his senses. Fucking women were messing with his head. Damn it, he needed a cigarette.
16
Stirring out of one of the best rests she'd had in an extremely long time, Mackenzie stretched her sore body, a loud moan escaping. She blinked her eyes open. Naked and displayed in Derk's bed, a cold shiver swept over her. She'd never slept on silk sheets before and couldn't say she'd invest in a set. At least they cooled her flushed hot body after her lascivious bed antics with Derk.
Slowly, she crawled out of bed, went to the bathroom to relieve herself, then searched for her clothes. She found her torn panties under the blanket, her yoga pants on the stairs, her bra on the floor next to the front door, but her tee remained MIA. Well, she'd just have to borrow one of Derk's.
Mackenzie rummaged through his dresser. She found his tee shirts in the next to bottom drawer along with some items that caused a brow raise. A large wad of cash placed in each corner of the drawer, several different hand guns, and knives in different lengths and sizes peeked her curiosity. She decided to research every drawer in the dresser, then proceeded to the chest of drawers on the other side of the room. The amount of weaponry and cash was astounding. Didn't he use a bank? And why the hell did he need an arsenal? All sorts of deadly weapons that could be used hand-to-hand or from a distance. She found a rifle with a scope half-hazard covered by jeans in the bottom drawer of the chest of drawers.
Okay, they lived in Western Pennsylvania and men there took their firearms seriously. They hunted and fished. But they didn't keep thousands of dollars in cash and guns stashed into drawers unless they were drug dealers or into other illegal activities. Right? Guns were kept locked in cabinets. Money was put in the bank or safes. This wasn’t normal.
Slumping back onto her heels, certain circumstances started to click. Derk's flexible work hours. His souped up truck. Smith. What single man owns a four-bedroom home complete with a six-person hot tub, three full bathrooms, a three car garage, and a game room with a tournament size pool table? Not to mention the night he saved her, those unsavory boys knew who Derk was, and they stepped back as if some detrimental harm would come to them if they didn't move out of his way. Plus there was the fact that he got away with whatever he wanted at her bar without being tossed out like any other patron would who broke the rules. He knew too much about her and she knew practically nothing of him. How could he possibly find out intimate details about her unless he had some sort of hidden agenda and connections?
Clarity smacked her upside the head. Shit, she'd done it again. She'd picked a guy she should have run from.
All right, so she'd already known that, but she hadn't exactly rushed away from him like a smart woman would have done. Rationally, there couldn't be a conceivable legal explanation for everything laid out before her. If he was military, he’d utilize a better way to stash his money. If he was a hunter, he’d store his weapons safely.
Jumping up from the floor, Mackenzie rushed downstairs to find her shoes and purse. In the process, on the kitchen counter she found a set of car keys and a note. Ignoring them, she pulled out her cell and dialed a grumpy Kayla to retrieve her.
Now would be the best time to stick to her newfound mantra of starting in the right direction. She had a bed-rolling good time with Derk last night, got her itch scratched, but didn't need anything further. At least, nothing that he offered. Time to end this before she became another victim to yet another less-than-stellar man.
Without a backward glance, Mackenzie left Derk's home, slamming the door shut behind her.
17